#stuck in the past and raw and reactive

[phlyaros]

i joked about simon plural but i feel like if i think about it for more than like five minutes we may very well split one

[kazerielle]

Luminous

Chapter 1

Keith Kogane x Original Character

Keith Kogane isn't unfamiliar with the existence of the reaper. Grievances from grim visited him a little too early for the comfort of his childhood to be savored. Despite his indifference, he held life with careful hands and held the yet to be reciprocated few close to catch before they get taken.

James and his so called entourage provoked the turmoil Keith tries to suppress, as per usual his temperament got the better of his jurisdiction and he started to throw a fist. At the moment, 1 vs 4 doesn't look too promising for triumph especially if the passerbys all turn blind.

The teachers choose to turn thier heads and cover their ears from his battered state. They validate their notion that such a re​cal​ci​trant child deserves that kind of treatment in order for him to be bended by their influence.

He narrowly squirmed out of their grasp and ran towards the suasive easement of the rooftop where anyone hardly took the leisure to stay idle and bask in the sun. He went there to relax, to let his newly earned bruises to set in, to take a breather, and surely the sight that greeted him took his breath away.

White socks soiled. Her milky brown hair danced along Zephyr, doused by the rose of noon, with determined furrowed brows, she is about to pull a crazy stunt to retrieve something dear: sausages cut as octopi, rice dressed with seaweed, a group of raw fish known as sushi, and soy sauce on the side to complete it.

A meal prepared by her father was taken by an audacious flying thief. She had to take it back. Moments prior, she had thrown her shoe at the bird but miserably missed and so she attempted with her remaining shoe. Trying to aim with precision and accuracy and she succeeded with doing so, the bird took a solid hit by her platform shoe. It decided to take a rest at the lower ledge of the building. Which led to an absurd looking rescue mission that can be interpreted the wrong way if you're on the ledge of a rooftop with no shoes on.

Before he could yell out his concerns that got stuck on the back of his throat for the past reactive minutes upon seeing the girl, his legs ushered him to sprint. She wasn't for him to hold but his hand tugged at the hem of her shirt with desperation like their history was something worth begging for.

Her mouth let go of a yelp, his actions startled her focus.

"Don't do it please." His voiced cracked under rigid breathing. He could hear the deafening pounding from his chest. The distance he ran from the doorstep didn't reach a two digit meter radius for him to feel this exhausted, for his knees to shake, and for his vision to become blurry.

Truth to be told, if it was any other, his adrenaline wouldn't have spiked as rapid as it did. He would've tried to talk them out of it first. Dumbfounded by the accord of his own body, he cannot fathom the reason as to why he's terrified. While she on the other hand is dumbfounded by his sudden interruption.

"I was just about to kebab that squawking nugget." She grumbles in disappointment, watching her prey flee along with her container, spooked by the commotion. She gazes longingly at her lunch as it flaps away, faltering on its way. She looks down at the beseeching form of the boy whose hand still clung to her shirt. She stared at him, her eyes demanding answers.

Regaining composure, he loosens his fingers one by one until he croaked out an apology. His eyes deters from the intense frustration of her magenta glare. Judging from her evident display of irritation his assumptions were incorrect, he took the scene as dire. It was indeed dire for her growling stomach which broke the awkward tension from building up further.

But before either one of them could address the starving matter the the sharp and repeating ringing of the school bell pained their ears.

"Just to set things straight, I wasn't gonna kill myself." A blunt reassurance from her before she ran off back to their classroom with only her socks gave Keith the yes to finally sigh in relief that he has been holding in.

Entering the boisterous room suggesting miss janet is yet to arrive for her classes after lunch, Keith immediately got halted on his tracks by a harsh pull from his collar to a violent push to the wall.

"Has your mother not taught you that ignoring others is extremely rude?" He brought out his condescending mockery for everyone to hear.

"Oh right.."

"You don't have one." His voice lowers before him along with his cronies obnoxiously guffawed. Everybody else was silent. They wanted to scold the brunette for all the harassments they'd put Keith through all this years but none of them dared defy him, they dreaded becoming his next punching bag. Their silence only fueled his conceit to keep looking down with arrogance.

Irritation brewed from her empty stomach and onto her senses of understanding and the thread that held her patience. Her ears taking in the aggravating existence of James, especially his laugh, her last will power to get it together snapped.

Eivryn sat in the first row, next to the window in front of Keith's seat so normally it would take some time for her to exit towards the door. But now, she couldn't careless about the disarrangement she caused. All that was in her mind was to sack james and ready a six feet burial for his followers to attend.

She didn't even take her chances with grabbing his collar, she immediately went and gripped at his neck. The sheer force caused his body to lose its balance and he stumbled on the ground. The swift pull on his marrow sent him paralyzed for a moment, he could move shortly after but the subconscious knowing of fear refused. Looking up with undilated pupils was all he could muster.

"And hasn't your father taught you that picking on the weak makes you look more pathetic?" Her voice low and cold. Although to portray the scorn he jeered earlier, her tone came more like a threat than a lighthearted joke. James' sidekicks were on the side along with their other classmates as they just watched the chaos unfold, they couldn't do anything due to shock.

His body stiffened, Keith knew he was incapable of fighting back for the time being but hearing that from her pained his pride more than Griffin's constant ridicule.

"Oh right..."

"You're doing this to get daddy's attention." She was looking down at him with disdain. James could see the hollows beneath her lashes as well as the faint red covered by a substance meant to conceal. He knows her for an ample amount of time to observe her usual docile demeanour and when it would expire. And he knows these past few days he has been obliviously testing her patience. Today was the last of it.

"All you do is squak your insecurities at others, keep that up and I'll be the one to personally kebab your mouth shut." Remembering the cackling crow, she couldn't help but let go of all self restraints she had on herself. And just in the nick of wrong timing, Miss Janet appears, appalled.

She expected Keith to be the one running errant as he usually does in her point of view. But no guesses were made that Eivryn, the kid who barely talks to anyone would go threatening others by their necks.

"Eivryn! We're going to the principal's office, now!"

[xbigxbadxmatsuix]

Look. I can barely explain the nutty adventure I had to get here- So I'm not going to. I don't wanna talk about it.

BASICS:

Name: Kotaro "Ko" Matsui

Age: 37

Occupation: Bouncer at Sinners

Species: Werewolf [Omega]

Hometown: San Francisco, CA

Current Residence: Downtown, Lunar Cove

Full Bio: [Click Here]

PERSONALITY:

Positive: Witty, Compassionate, Protective

Negative: Reactive, Resentful, Moody

SUMMARY:

Estranged eldest son of a disgraced family name, Kotaro Matsui has been dealt a bad hand of cards these past few years but is rolling with the punches. Kotaro left said family with the initial hopes of starting his own pharmaceutical company in Japan. When that crashed and burned, Kotaro vanished into the rural countryside and pursued several interests previously barred off by familial expectation such as gardening and taekwondo. All was well until a group of hunters knocked on his doorstep and started asking where his brother, Kenji Matsui, was. Of course, Kotaro had no fucking clue but apparently Ken landed himself in hot water with some vampires [oh yeah, vampires are real also?] and went off radar. Kotaro sold off everything and traveled back to America to search for Ken.

His search was cut short after Ko decided to help a delirious hitchhiker off the side of the road. Unfortunately for Kotaro, that hitchhiker was a particularly ungrateful werewolf and attacked him shortly after, inflicting the curse on him. He then spent the next three years traveling on foot and paw to Lunar Cove for help as well as answers regarding this affliction.

To make a long story short, Kotaro's pretty fucking tired...And his list of problems is just getting started.

EXTRA:

Kotaro is an athletic guy. Beyond his experience in taekwondo, Ko played countless sports growing up with mixed success. With few exception, name a sport and Kotaro has played it once.

Ko is still new to supernatural business as a whole and picking up on it as he goes. Upon first arriving, he's mostly going off of pop culture/the base level mortal knowledge.

Despite being a werewolf for three years, Kotaro still struggles with transforming. Turning into a wolf on the full moon is no problem but shifting back is. More often than not, he has been stuck in wolf form days to week after the fact and has literally done some pretty wild things to get by over the years like hunting/eating a rabbit raw...He doesn't like to talk about it.

Throughout his life, Kotaro has had one motto: Excellence in both body and mind.

[the-endless-traveler]

The World Outside

How long since I ever stepped outside that dome? Thirty years, and I counted them. It's a short lifespan for a Viera like me, but there was people on the other side that I wanted to see again. See if they remember me, or if they will be shocked by what I have become. After all, I spent thirty years in the strange new world I ended in...

It all started after I got my permit and headed to Shaaloani. Nothing too unusual for a Sage of Sharlayan that was looking for the history of her clan, even if two thousand years have passed from their exile from Tural to the deadly jungle of Golmore. I expected to find anything that would retrace the origins of my combat style to the Vipers of Tural, and Yyasulani was where the Shetona lived... Some of them at least. The last area I would scout out for my own goals... Then that thing happened.

The thing is that dome. It appeared out of nowhere while I was in a village to get some rest, and all of a sudden the entire world got warped into something different. It wasn't any form of Allagan technology, and it wasn't anything made by Sharlayan either, and many of the people I was with died during the sudden attack that followed our shift to this unknown place. Damned be those... things. Humanoid, soulless machines made entirely for war attacked us as soon as we appeared her, killing many villagers and exhausting my Aether to keep the rest alive and protect them with the other fighters who got caught. Others died by the sudden levinstorm that fell from the darkened sky, or because the area got destroyed enough they got claimed by nature itself. What a joke... and what was that weird place anyway?

I decided to explore the entire area on my own after a few days, trying to find a refuge for the few survivors under my care. I couldn't abandon them, not after I fought for them, after all. Of course, the ground decided to fall under me when I was exploring and I fell into a geyser of raw levin. The raw aether coursed through my body and I only remember falling to the ground after the surge of lightning only evoked pain beyond measure and a feminine voice.

Queen Sphene. A kindhearted woman who pulled me off the geyser and healed me with the curious technology they have in Solution Nine, the electrope. I wasn't dead, but they had to isolate my entire body for the sources of levin they used to mend my wounds, and according to the medical staff, my Aether was definitely imbalanced towards Lightning with no chances to recover it. This is where she offered me to easemy pain with a regulator, a headpiece that would help balance everything and ensured my chances of living. Did I consumed souls during my time recovery, I don't know, but I accepted her offer. I learned later what regulators could do and refused to use any souls... But they were an useful addition into a world I never knew. Then... the truth happened.

I learned to hunt and to work for my share of life with my new abilities. Electrope was a breeze to master, and my flow of Aether opened my body to new techniques. To hell with my legacy, if I was to be stuck here it would be better to defend myself and the people, rather than to seek a past that was probably taken by the dome. I made multiple weapons and finally, my trusted gunblade came through as the perfect addition to my new life. I knew those weapons would channel Aether into bullets, and I would channel Lightning instead, but that was serviceable for two years. I was with another hunter who died in the work and I brought them back to the Outskirts. The body was taken care of and I left to make a grave where he fell as a reminder when the regulator activated itself. I was wondering why I was here, and the half-grave I built had a name. The regulator reactivated but nothing would make me forget who my friend was. I had nothing but anger in my mind and I returned to Solution Nine, locking myself within the home I secured for one, single task: break the regulator.

I made it. I hacked this piece of hell and ripped it off its main functions, and it took me only three years. It was now a database, a way to never forget anything I ever live, and despite my obsession, I made a few friends in Solution Nine who would see me for my skills with electrope. I went from hunting at full time to hunting when I was needed, and making weapons for the hunters who needed help... And if someone wanted to have access to forbidden knowledge, I could help. Oblivion, the resistance, tried to rope me into their ideas, too. I didn't accepted, but I didn't refused to help them either... I just wanted to be by myself for a while.

I... wished I had a way to get out. Then the Vanguard happened and I saw my chances to leave. Not because I hated Solution Nine or Neo-Alexandria, but because I had friends outside the dome, people I cared about.

And thirty years passed.

[writefightandflightclub]

Clean-up in Aisle 4 (Will Miller x GN reader blurb)

Summary: a grocery store meet-cute with Will. Little bit of fluff, mainly angsty.

Author’s note: First time writing Will. Super quick one but hope you like it. Helps a lot if you know Will’s canon from the movie. You can read-up here if you wanna. Told you I was in Triple Frontier feels tonight!

Warnings: vague but thematic mentions of prior trauma related to military service and PTSD / anxiety themes, though nothing in-depth / graphic. Swearing. 

GIF: @will-grammer

The first thing you noticed about the man was the broadness of him. Wide shoulders, leading down to a nipped-in waist. You weren’t ogling. Really. It was simply hard to miss, since you nearly drove your cart into his back, the brick wall of a man coming to a sudden, dead halt in front of you as you each approached the grocery store.

The second thing you noticed, as you huffed out air and scooted your cart around him, was the way his hands white-knuckled as they wrapped -achingly tight- around the handle of his own cart, the tension extending into his forearms and along the veins of his straining biceps.

The third thing, causing you to fully abandon your intended pursuit of a passive aggressive side-eyeing, was his ashen expression; the way his gaze fixed unerringly on the sliding, automatic doors as though they were the gates to hell and he was deathly afraid to enter. You saw then that the tension extended all then way through the chords of his neck, into his chiselled jaw, which was covered in a scruff of blond beard.

You’d seen that look before. Seen it on others in the field; and out of it. Had seen it plenty when you looked in the mirror too. It looked like trauma, raw and exposed and bile-inducing, and the recognition had the words rising out of your throat before you could stop them.

“Hey, are you okay?” you had asked casually, in a cooling voice as you lined your cart up side-by-side with his.

It was reflex by now. You had seen too many comrades freeze in the face of danger - and in your experience, freezing near-always led to sub-optimal outcomes. Perhaps that’s why you felt a personal responsibilty to shock him back to life. He seemed stuck. He seemed like he needed a push, like that damn cart.

The man’s eyes - hazel centred and fringed with a piercing yet muted blue - flicked fiercely towards you, and the hint of volatility made you very suddenly take note of his size and latent strength, your body’s fight or flight response firing as he appeared to take a little unkindly to the interruption.

Of course, you stood your ground. You always do. It’s a bad habit of yours.

His eyes softened, however, just a little, as he clocked gentle concern rather than confrontation in your own, and he self-consciously shuffled from foot to foot, his heavy combat boots seeking surer-footing on the paving; quite literally grounding himself.

Oh, he’s definitely military this one. You recognised that too in the way he moved. In the habits ingrained in his body.

Still, you saw the rush of panic fleeting across his eyes as he ignored you and fixed his stare back on the threshold of the store. It might have looked like nothing -a simple line to cross- but you knew all too well how the smallest of lines could be something much bigger; a marker, a milestone, a hurdle.

It seemed hard for him. And if it seemed hard, and he was still here, trying, then you were damn sure it seemed important too.

You had noticed the ticks in his body then too. He tapped his boot and his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was counting. Counting-up or counting down to something, you were not sure.

“Afraid to go in?” you had asked him gently, devoid of any mocking.

“I had a bad experience here...” he had told you, his voice a deep, drawling, painfully empty baritone.

He told you this much, though he was not sure why or how he even began to speak. Why or how he looked at you. He was not sure either, why he was unable to continue speaking.

He was a speaker by profession, wasn’t he? He had repeated his story often enough as part of his motivational speeches, and yet, the words died in his throat now.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost... 

His hands tightened their grip on the cart, just like they had tightened...

“Hmm,” you acknowledged, chewing on your lip as you digested the new information.

“Well. Me too,” you admitted, as his eyes segued back to those double doors, bumping open and closed as his proximity continually reactivated the sensors. “It was bad. My shorts had split clean in half right down the ass-crack and no-one thought to tell me. Some of the clerks still call me Cheeky to this day.”

The incident you spoke of was painfully true, and at least mildly cheering, you thought, but the man barely registered it. At least, not initially. He took a moment, still staring, still counting, but then he looked at you with a reluctant and pained amusement that evidently took him by surprise.

Now, he saw you. His eyes gave you the once over.

You were not what he was expecting. That story wasn’t what he was expecting. He wasn’t expecting...

“Wait, what?”

Letting your mouth draw open into a smile, effortlessly holding his attention now, you had pressed on with your distraction.

“Split right up the ass-crack. Mortifying. So... I could use the company, if you’ll brave it with me?” You had nodded your head towards the double doors, and you had shifted your cart to casually bump his. “We could go together?”

The man had simply stared at you, and you had patiently waited for his response. The muscles in his jaw had twitched, tendons slipping over bone. He was frozen still; that is, until you had politely nodded and started to move away from him, with a sincere, “Take care of yourself, man.”

“Hey, wait up,” he had called as you moved ahead of him, and you threw your head over your shoulder to humourously inspect the seat of your pants.

“Shit, why, is my ass out again?” you had laughed, and Will tentatively laughed with you, following you into the store; crossing his personal boundary.

It was hard, and it was important.

You had waited for him to catch-up with a soft smile, proud of the man although you did not know him yet, and this time he had drawn his cart to a halt alongside yours.

“Your ass is not out,” he had promised. “Shit. Not that I was looking. I just, uh. Shit. I could actually use the company?”

“Sure,” you had nodded, without judgement, and you had stayed closely by his side on your usual, winding route around the store.

You had tried your best to cheer him and distract this stranger, and even earned a few smiles as you engaged him in meaningless conversation.

Then, the man had paused at the mouth of a particular aisle and stared turbulently into the vacant space there, face and body pulled taut as if replaying an unpleasant memory. He was about to abandon his cart, you thought. About to leave you with a hanging apology he in no way owed you about how he wasn’t ready for this.

It was important, but perhaps it was still too hard. 

However, instead, you had blitzed into the centre of the aisle and trampled over his ghosts, barraging all of his memories out of the way as you shifted armfuls of dog food into your cart with a clatter.

He had swallowed thickly, his hands stuffed into his pockets, until you shot him another soft smile.

“You have a dog,” he observed tentatively, consciously tearing himself away from the past. Counting the seconds; his breaths, his heartbeats, the cans of dog food. Moving forward.

“I do. He’s the goodest boi. He even has medals of honour.”

The man tips his mouth into a lop-sided smile. “What for? Can he walk on his hind legs?”

“Ugh, okay. I love it when smug fuckers underestimate my mutt.” You had added the last of your tins to the cart and gestured for Will to follow you into the next aisle. Away from his demons. He did follow. “No, actually,” you begin more softly, “he sniffed out IEDs when I was on my tour of duty.”

“Holy shit, you’re army?”

“Ex-Army,” you correct. “You too, I’m guessing?”

He had that look. That manner to his movements. The man looked like he had killed. It was a look you had learned to identify at ten paces. It was a look you saw in the mirror often enough.

“That obvious?” he says, sucking in air through his teeth.

“Oh yeah.”

He had smiled nervously at you. For the first time since meeting him, you noticed that he looked sweet.

“Yep, uh, I got out. Now I give motivational speeches where I relive my trauma and try ‘n’ convince recruits it’s all worth it.”

You had nodded, thin-lipped, as you moved towards the check-out.

You had wondered what happened to him out there, but something about the way his gaze had fallen on that spot in the aisle told you that what weighed heaviest wasn’t what he did while he was in, but what he did when he got out.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost...

That could happen. You had seen the pattern too many times amongst your buddies. Still, you had seen regret in this man’s eyes. That doesn’t always happen. Not everyone can pull back from the violence. Not everyone wants to.

You had peered into the man’s cart as he moved the items to be scanned. He had cola, lemons, and some sriracha in his cart, but... one step at a time. Coherent meals could come later.

This was hard. This was important.

“You should meet my floofy war hero. He’s outside in my truck,” you had offered, picking-up your bags, and the man picking up his... lemons etc..

“Oh yeah? Sure. Would be an honour,” he had smiled shyly, and you had tracked together over to your truck, thrown your bags in the back, and had let your boy out of the passenger seat.  

“Hey, buddy,” the man had cooed, kneeling down on the ground to deliver some quality scritches, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight.

“Aw, he loves you! Freddie, you slut!” you had laughed as this huge, burly man baby-talked to your mutt, your dog rolling on the floor and showing his belly like you didn’t feed and water him and take him for walkies.

You had watched the man for a moment. You had noticed a lot about him already, but now you noticed that, shit, he was handsome. That smile. That laugh. Blonde hair and beard and piercing eyes. His arms rippling beneath his pale blue t-shirt.

He had risen back to standing and leaned up against your truck, looking like soemthing out of a catalogue. And then, there it was again. That look. That raw, exposed, bile-inducing look.

“Listen,” he had said earnestly. “Thank you. I probably would still be standing out front if you hadn’t taken pity on me.” 

“No problem. Except, not pity. Not at all,” you had reassured. Affinity, maybe. Recognition.

He had huffed out a gentle, grateful breath.

“For real though, I was getting kinda tired of eating gas station noodle pots. Wouldn’t have my...” he had finally peered into the paper bag, registering the groceries he had panic bought. “Fuck. Wouldn’t have my lemons and sriracha without you.”

“Okay. Now maybe I’ll take pity on you,” you had smiled, gently teasing, and you shifted a few choice ingredient from your bags to his, despite his protests that you’d done enough for him already.

“You did it,” you had said firmly. “I just walked into a place where all the clerks accidently saw my ass cheeks. Whatever you did. It was hard and it was immportant. You did that. You should be proud.”

He had looked at you curiously and disbelievingly with those piercing eyes of his, like he didn’t deserve your words - even though they were merely the truth. So, you had bumped him on the arm, loaded Freddie back into the truck, and had thrown him a “Take care of yourself, man” as you clambered into the driver’s side.

“Wait.. I...”

The handsome, troubled man had motioned to you and you had wound down the window, leaning your arm out the side of the truck.

“Yeah?” you had asked, with a soft smile, but the man had simply shaken his head.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost... 

Nevermind.

He had looked apologetic, like maybe he wasn’t ready to subject himself to anyone just yet. As if he looked at you and saw the ghost of someone he let down standing over your shoulder. Maybe even in your face.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost... 

His brows had knitted together, and he had looked down at his boots, shifting and seeking sure-footing all over again. Grounding himself.

“Listen,” you had offered, starting your engine up. “I do my weekly shop at 2pm on Sundays. You know, if you ever need some company? Or,” you had added with a smile and a casual wink, “if you ever need an excuse to check-out a nice ass again.” 

He had nodded his head and pursed his lips together, before a broad grin split his features, his deep baritone now sounding full as a chuckle spills out of him.

“Good to know,” he had smiled, looking up at you shyly, and he had stepped back to let you swing the truck around and pull away, offering you a wave.

He never did tell you his name, but you had a feeling that you might be seeing him around.

Sometimes, things were simply better with company, after all.

[gingerwarrior]

With the Full Moon is in Cancer the focus will be on love, intimacy, communication, compassion, emotions, family, friendship, relationships and intuition. All signs will be affected but Cancer will be impacted more than others.

We will be feeing a deep desire to feel nourished, nurtured, cosy, protected, secure and safe. Especially as we will likely experience intense emotional tidal waves with sudden mood changes before, during and after this full moon.

Cancer is ruled by the moon, so when the moon is full and at home in her sign, we can expect our deep rooted feelings and sensitivities to surface and be amplified. The Full Moon always pushes and pulls emotions, but particularly so during a Cancer Full Moon.

Cancer corresponds with the 4th house, the house of childhood—correlating to the past, the beginning and the end of homely matters. Over this period we may be forced to look at our own role as a parent, or how we are/were parented, or both. Our parental instincts bring forth our defensive and fiercely protective reactions and we will awaken to overly possessive and controlling behaviors.

While the moon is shining a light on our feelings and evoking deep truths, we can work with the electrifying energy so our intuition and insight is magnified. We will be feeling more alert and have greater clarity about everything and everyone in our lives and this may bring breakthroughs and epiphanies, and we may not like what we are shown. If we witness sides to others that offend or shock us, we could easily become reactive and temporarily lose ourselves in anger or aggression.

Emotions can explode and raw “truths” and secrets may spill out as we are tempted to release our frustrations. However we will feel better in the long term if we try to show understanding , consideration and compassion rather than erupt in a dramatic and confrontational manner.

When we are triggered we may not react in a way that is true to our current circumstances. What we may think is an accurate response, quite often, is a delayed reaction to an accumulation of what has happened in the past, rather than what is happening in the present moment.

The Sun and Pluto in Capricorn are opposite the Full Moon, amplifying this potent energy. Pluto, the planet of transformation, is the most intense and perceptive planet in our solar system and will be encouraging us to let go of control, past trauma, irrational fears and insecurities. Pluto is a natural investigator and truth-seeker and will be showing us areas where we have been caught up in delusions and struggling between what is reality and fiction.

It also allows us to see where we have become entangled in power struggles and imbalances, particularly where there are obsessions or addictions to certain thoughts, patterns or people.

We are then able to understand which relationships or behaviors have been keeping us stuck and we can release our Cancer crab grip on all we have been clinging tightly to.

This is a time to communicate lovingly and respectfully and to think twice about how we have treated others, particularly those with whom we have held back emotions, played power games or used manipulation and silent treatment. If people are important to us it is the time to tell them, or if someone is unhealthy for us to be around, we can compassionately let go of dynamics that are out of alignment, whether with friends, family members or more intimate relationships.

This Full Moon will likely be a turning point for connections that are caught up in power struggles or where one person is putting in very little effort, bringing on a sense of rejection or abandonment. We will clearly see where it is vital that we, or others, show more affection and open up or realise it is time to release the hold, let go and finally receive closure where energies aren’t respectful or reciprocated.

Whatever we decide, this Full Moon opposite Pluto is supporting our evolution and bringing permanent transformation or endings to thoughts, habits, patterns, behaviors or possibly entire relationships.

[theawakenedstate]

This is the True Moment of Healing…

I can do this. 

But the criticism hold strong in my mind. 

I can do this. 

But my ego keeps telling me all the ways I’m a failure and it will never happen for me. 

I can do this. 

But my mind keeps guiding me to look for all the things that are actually wrong with me. 

I can do this. 

Because Actually I love my self so much that I Choose to Encourage myself, instead of constantly beat myself up for my choices. 

I choose to trust myself. 

I choose to focus on Believing I always make the right decisions because I am tuned into my intuition and my soul. 

My soul is guided by my alignment, my magnetism, How could that actually lead me astray, 

When i Know in my absolute CORE, My Alignment always guides me to activate my power in the path of least resistance – it can’t NOT. 

Once I activate it. 

I can do this. 

But who are you to have that? Who are you to teach that?  You’re still not doing it right?! Who are you to do that, you’re obviously just a beginner. 

Who are you, you’re just selfish anyway, a spoiled brat, 

A person who only things of herself. 

But I can do this. 

I’m actually doing a great job being me. 

I actually love and accept I am not Perfect. 

I actually accept my power today to choose. 

I choose to love my shadow and what it teaches me. 

I can do this. 

I am over shaming the voice of my past. 

I am over HATING, the voice of my past. 

Instead I choose. 

To walk in the face of duality. 

Instead I choose, 

I Can do this. 

I can let my encouragement be stronger than my criticism. 

I can do this. 

I can recognize a Life built on CRITICISM and JUDGMENT has been destroying my path of success, receiving and refusal to let go. 

But I can Love, Appreciate and Accept that encouragement CAN change my Life. 

And so the Mind fights for comfort, 

While the Soul soothes  us into Change. 

So the ego fights for safety,  while the Soul whispers us to change. 

So the mind fights for familiarity and stagnation, 

While the soul guides us to step into the unknown of present infinite possibilities and true self expansion. 

Liberation can only be found by holding the hand of shadow, while walking with duality into the light. 

Are you willing to walk with duality to recognize your own Emotional Liberation? 

Alignment occurs the moment we decide to Activate our Power in the Path of Least Resistance. 

Alignment is often the glue that is missing when we are looking for:

making our life easier Healing our negative emotions spiraling in our minds Receiving in our manifesting,  Managing our emotions so they are healthier,  Taming the Voice of the Ego so we can hear soul more clearly,   

This is the True Moment of healing…

How do I know?

Because what you see above, is exactly how I started healing YEARS of conditioned criticism and judgment, that constantly held me in a cycle of self-sabotage, emotional neglect, connection and keeping at arms length, healthy channels of true support. 

This work sometimes isn’t always easy, but it sure as hell is worth it. 

To diminish emotional meltdowns?  To have a Life you’re grateful to wake up to in the morning?  To have outstanding boundaries that you know who the fuck you are and you won’t allow people to eff with that.  To understand your worth sooo deeply, you stop settling across all areas of our lives. 

We can say spiritual concepts are fluffy and woohoo 

or we can start to realize that understanding the energetics that makes up the core foundation of reality, 

is inevitably how we Rise in our Personal Power and begin to take our Life back into our hands. 

mmm sooo beautiful to see the world in the true liberation of YOUR PATH OF LEAST RESISTANCE. 

It exists within you. 

And it becomes more accessible, 

when you learn to activate your own personal channels

of true Alignment 

inside of you, 

Ready to Join us? 

__

THE ALIGNMENT RESET IS NOW OPEN OFFICIALLY

 This for those of you who are feeling:

Are you Over Being constantly in “do mode” over-working, over-achieving & sacrificing as a result?

Are you feeling stuck, frozen or letting fear keep you in inaction? Do you find yourself being more reactive emotionally and seeking approval in your relationships? Are you obsessing about those damn hows and getting stopped on what to do next? Most importantly are you not following through and putting yourself last? And are you ready to end the self-sabotage for good?

If I am hearing a hell yes – then it’s time for an Alignment Reset 😘

This Challenge is designed to get you out of Misalignment and teach you over the course of 21 days the unique ways we can access our personal energetic alignment.

The challenge will also teach you some powerful techniques to Shift your Mindset & reprogram your mind so you can stop letting fear run the show.

This will be a 21 day Journey together with mini-coaching Lessons each day  where you will learn:

How to Cultivate More Awareness to Remove Resistance Patterns 

Manage your Energy to Shift your Mindset & environments 

Raise your Vibrations Naturally to Re-align with Higher Truth & work with your body 

And

Manifest with more ease by exercising your Co-creative Power from a place of Alignment.

How it Works: 

This challenge will be self-paced with a free fb support group to share your journey and engage with other members through the challenge.

Receive immediate access to the challenge and day 1 upon purchase so you can dive right in. receive day 2 the next day and so forth. 

You Receive: Each Day You receive a Video Lesson, Journal Prompt, Mantra, Action step or exercise as your challenge assignment. Also with the option of a fb mini assignment to share your journey and keep you in the excitment of the challenge. 

Potent Soul work:  Journal prompts, mantras, exercises & Action steps to get you pumped into applying this information immediately. 

Combining the Spiritual and Practical together. Keeping it real here with raw unedited video,  a couple of meditations thrown-in.

BONUS 2021 UPGRADE LIVE TRAININGS HOT SEAT Q&A COACHING CALLS ADDED: Receive Three Live Trainings  with me, on New Alignment Lessons i’ve learned since I last released this class.

Some of the Topics included: Activating our Power in the Path of Least Resistance,  How to Listen to Your Own Alignment to create more ease & flow in your life and Understanding Alignment in terms of Being Magnetically You and attracting from this space.

Lots of fun new topics to cover as my understanding of Alignment has grown. (If you’re previous alumni of the program, you receive this upgrade automatically & can attend the live training, because why not! )  

One thing i’ve learned with challenges & community is a challenge helps us stay on our toes, it keeps us accountable to keep going, and when we stray we lean on community, pick ourselves up and just keep going! 

Also I just love to mention this is literally my best-selling program and I haven’t launched it officially since June of last year. So many people have been telling me about it lately, so I decided it was the perfect time to relaunch it. 

If you’d love to take the challenge, 

Learn more about all of this Below: 

The Alignment Reset 21 Day Challenge >>> https://theawakenedstate.net/

(Also I gotta say I love the new branding style I picked out for the challenge, I was drawn to pictures of a sunset and this happened,  check it out 😘 )

Challenge closes on Sunday

July 18th at midnight CST  (or until i get the sales page down :P) 

We start Officially on Monday July 19th. 

Sending love, good health and abundance your way, Blessings! 

Any Questions about the Alignment Reset contact me or comment below.  

https://theawakenedstate.net/soul-unleashed-activations-this-is-the-true-moment-of-healing/

Soul Unleashed Activations: This is the True Moment of Healing...

This is the True Moment of Healing… I can do this.  But the criticism hold strong in my mind.  I can do this.  But my ego keeps telling me all the ways I’m a failure and it will never happen for me.  I can do this.  But my mind keeps guiding me to look for all the things that are […]

[annerbhp]

So I'm reading chapter 5 of the changling. Wouldn't be sooooo funny if like Ginny went to find Ron to congratulate him. But overheard hermione talking about Felix felicies and like Harry sees her listening and they just argue in front of everyone. Cause Harry's gets her fired up everyone hears about the liquid luck. It turns into a ass whole situation

Look what you made me do. I futzed with the original HPB scene a bit to fit Ginny in, but I hope you’ll allow me that. :) Not so much a missing scene from The Changeling as much as a ‘well that would have gone a bit different if that happened’. Off the cuff and un-beta’d. Enjoy!

Lucky

Having said goodbye to Fred and George, commiserated with her team over the loss, and had a quick shower and change, Ginny can no longer put off congratulating Ron on his win. And his frankly surprisingly impressive show as Keeper. She’s only a little mad at him for that.

She could probably wait until morning, but she figures if she goes now, Ron will probably be so distracted that he won’t be a complete git about the whole thing. And then she won’t have to deal with it tomorrow.

And so she climbs the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, the noise only getting louder and louder as she gets closer, and those prats are either even louder than normal or they’ve spilled out of their common room into the halls. How they get away with half of the stunts they pull off, she will never know.

She’s finally in sight of the round portrait hole when it swings open, Harry stepping out into the hall, or being shoved rather, by an irate-looking Hermione. Her cheeks are flushed as she hisses something at Harry, but it’s not until the portrait hole closes behind them that she can make out any of the words.

“--you shouldn’t have done that, Harry! It’s illegal!”

Harry looks equally annoyed, face still a bit red and flush with victory, hair a wild mess. “Done what exactly?” he says in a tone seemingly perfectly designed to nettle Hermione.

“I saw you do it, Harry! I saw you put felix felicis in Ron’s pumpkin juice this morning!” 

Ginny freezes, feeling like she’s just taken a quaffle to the solar plexus.

But rather than denying it, Harry just lets out a bark of laughter, turning around to face Hermione, but stopping as his eyes fall on Ginny standing motionless on the stairs. “Ginny,” he says, his face seeming to pale.

She turns on her heel, heading back down the stairs. Her head should be a riot of thoughts, of cheating and filthy rotten Gryffindor hyprocrites, and how awful Harry must think Ron is to do something like that, to his best sodding friend, and all the ways she is going to get back at them for this. For taking a victory from her like that after how hard she’s worked. How hard her team has worked.

But instead all she feels is this sickly swooping feeling in her stomach like she’s swallowed a writhing ocean, like gravity dragging her down roughly. It feels way, way, way too familiar, and she hates it.

You fool.

“Ginny, wait!” Harry calls out after her, his feet pounding down the stairs as he follows her.

Somehow she manages to speak, still not looking back at him as she continues down the stairs. “Don’t worry. I’m not a tattler, remember?”

Tomorrow, when she has a calmer head, that is when she’ll decide exactly how to respond. Because she is going to do something about this. Oh, yes, she is. But telling Madam Hooch or McGonagall is not on her list.

“That’s not--” Harry sputters, still following her.

“I should have known you weren’t just being that helpful,” she says, more mad at herself for actually trusting, for actually believing--but she should know better than that. That he believed she could be a good captain, that he really wanted to help, when all along he was never going to give her a fair chance to try to prove it. “What an idiot I am.”

“Would you just stop?” Harry says, grabbing her arm.

Ginny spins around, pulling her wand, feeling red hot rage surge through her body, and she tells herself that is what is causing the humiliating prick of tears in her eyes. She is better than this, better than letting her temper push her into mindless, reactive revenge.

Harry’s eyes dart to her wand and back up to her face, but he doesn’t back away either, or look scared, and why can’t he find her terrifying at least once when it would be most convenient?

“I didn’t do it,” he says, slightly out of breath. Over his shoulder, Ginny can see that Hermione has followed them, looking between them with wide eyes.

“Oh, really,” Ginny says, not putting away her wand.

“I saw you do it, Harry,” Hermione says, apparently not above throwing him to the wolves.

“You think you did,” Harry says, shooting an annoyed glare back at her. “And so did Ron. That was the whole bloody point.”

Hermione frowns. “I don’t understand.”

But Harry doesn’t seem all that concerned with her understanding, turning back to Ginny. “Just let me show you,” he says, hand reaching into his pocket.

He pulls out a small glass vial full of golden liquid. He offers it, palm held out to Ginny.

“Take it,” he says, shoving it closer.

Stowing her wand, she reaches out and picks it up. It’s very obviously still sealed and full of liquid.

“I just...wanted Ron to stop stressing out so much for once, so he could see how good he is all on his own when he’s not being completely mental.”

Realization slowly dawns. “So you pretended to put it in when you knew he was watching,” Ginny says. 

“Yeah.”

A perfectly executed gambit.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione says, looking miserable and wringing her hands. “I’m sorry.” Ginny supposes she had threatened to go to McGonagall.

Harry doesn’t look at Hermione, still waiting for Ginny’s response. Only she isn’t at all sure what she feels.

Ginny swallows to clear her throat. “You’d better tell Ron. Or he’ll just end up feeling even worse about himself.” She looks over at Hermione, finding that easier to do at the moment. “I came to tell him congratulations.” 

Hermione nods. “I’ll go get him, okay? Okay, Harry?”

She waits for him to nod his agreement, and with that, she turns, heading back up.

Ginny is left standing on the stairs with Harry, still feeling like an idiot, but maybe for an entirely different reason now. She hadn’t been wrong to be mad, when she thought it was true. To be mad at him for cheating.

Though that didn’t explain the yawning feeling of betrayal that had more to do with it being Harry who had done it than anything else.

For lack of anything else to do, she starts walking back towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry lets out a breath of what sounds like relief. Probably that she isn’t threatening to hex him anymore.

"I’m sorry,” he says, walking up next to her.

She shakes her head. “Clearly you didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have--” She stops, not really sure what she shouldn’t have done. Jumped to conclusions? Been stupid enough to trust someone in the first place?

“I know how hard you’ve worked,” he says. “And you nearly got us as it was--”

She lifts her hand. “Let’s not with the platitudes right now.” The loss is still too raw.

“It’s not a--” He breaks off as Hermione comes darting past them down the stairs.

Ginny barely catches a glimpse of her face beneath the riot of bushy hair framing her face, but it’s enough to see the tears in her eyes.

“Hermione?” she asks.

She doesn’t stop or respond, Ginny sharing a worried glance with Harry. They both turn to look towards the open doorway just in time to see Ron wrapped around Lavender Brown in the middle of the common room, their faces stuck together. The door swings shut.

Harry has a bemused look of shock on his face at seeing his best mate sucking face with one of his housemates, only then he looks down the stairs after Hermione. “Oh, bollocks,” he says.

Oh, bollocks, indeed. Stupid, stupid Ron. “You’d better go after her,” Ginny says. She and Hermione are not all that close, besides which, a Weasley is probably the last thing she wants to see right now.

“Yeah,” Harry says, sounding pained. He starts down the stairs only to pause, looking back up at her. “Ginny.”

“Yeah?” she asks, prepared for him to try to pawn the unsavory task off on her.

His hand bumps against the railing. “I meant it, you know. I really did want to help.”

“Oh,” Ginny says, feeling warmth working up her neck as she realizes what she’d said earlier in her agitation. “It’s fine.”

He opens his mouth, like he wants to say more but isn’t really sure what to, or doesn’t have time to. He glances back down the stairs, looking cross and torn.

“Harry,” she says. “Just go. We can talk later.” Or hopefully just forget all about it.

He seems to perk up at this. “Can we?”

“Of course,” she says, her stomach feeling a bit funny at the thought.  

He grins. “Okay. I’ll come find you. Tomorrow?”

Ginny hadn’t been expecting something so certain, or so soon. “Sure,” she says, feeling her heart pounding a little too strongly in her chest. “Tomorrow.”

“Great,” he says, nodding with a wide grin on his face. “Excellent.”

She’s beginning to feel a little like an emotional whirlwind at this point, finding herself rolling her eyes at him as he keeps standing there, but also with an answering smile on her face. “Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She points down the stairs. “Hermione?”

“Right. Bollocks. Gotta go.” And with that, he turns, finally thundering down the stairs in search of a heart-broken Hermione.

In a bit of a daze, Ginny wanders her way back down to her common room, trying not to think too hard on what tomorrow might bring.

[gotmetalkinginmysleep]

Neon Glow

Genre: Smut with Hoseok x Female Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (be safe folks), begging, edging, fingering, Daddy Kink, a bit of fluff at the end.

Summary: Hobi needs you for a booty call.

Reference: Suncity (feat. Empress Of) by Khalid

Word count: 3635 words

Big thanks to resident Hobi expert Edie from @sweet-teeth-mfs. Thank you for allowing me to ask you many, MANY Hobi related questions over the past few weeks. I wanted to get this just right and I didn’t want to let Hobi fans down. Enjoy x

- - -

Just a message from Hobi and you’re on the next flight out to him. There was no context. No emoji like he’d normally sign off with so you knew he was dead serious. While sat in the last minute airplane seat, with just one hour to go before landing you read the message over and over, trying to figure out what he had in store for you.

Hobi: I didn’t get to see you before I left.

Hobi: Get on a plane.

Hobi: I need you.

Hobi: Now.

A car was waiting for you on arrival, so as soon as you landed you were whizzing through neon-lit streets straight to the hotel. The wet tarmac reflecting the ambient colours into the sky. The lights blurring through the rain that beads on the window, noticing them trail past your eyes.

He had never done this before. When he was away you’d put your filthy mind to great use and it was no different over these past few days. Texting him your most intimate thoughts whenever the moment arose. Normally bombarding him until he’d return home, normally resulting in the most intense sessions and a few days of working from home, but something was different this time. Absence certainly made something grow stronger.

Thankfully, you’re not having to explain who you are at reception, Hobi having already arranged everything. An envelope at the check-in desk is handed over as soon as you present your ID. Anticipation starts to set in as the lift ascends the building, unconsciously tapping your feet as the floor level counter increases.

As soon as the doors ping open, you’re out of the lift clutching your handbag tight, it being the only luggage you brought with you. Approaching the hotel room, you’re eager to find out what he had in store. You’re tapping the door, “Hobi?” There’s no reply. You fumble with the card key to let yourself in the room.

Upon entering, the room is in darkness, the curtains open and the neon glow from the streets below being the only light reflecting into the room. His suitcases piled in the corner, his clothing hung up so neatly and his mobile studio set up on a section of the desk.

“Hobi? Are you here?” Again, no answer. Removing your shoes, you pad into the room to find it empty, just a box and note on the bed. Placing your handbag on the desk you pull out your phone, sending one more text hoping it would buzz somewhere in the room.

Y/N: Hobi, where are you? I’m in your room.

Yet no ringtone or vibration in the silence. He’s not here.

Intrigued by the box, you edge closer. A black box, around the same size as a shoe box, with a folded note on top complete with your name. You look around, checking he’s not hiding somewhere in the room as you unfurl the paper to read it.

My Darling. This is for you. I’ll be back tonight. Your Hope x

Gingerly, you remove the lid on the box to find pressed tissue paper hiding items underneath it. Peeling it back you’re surprised to see a gorgeous set of underwear. In the neon light, it’s hard to make out the colour but you assume black intricate lace. Your phone buzzes.

Hobi: Sorry baby. On my way. Stuck in traffic.

Hobi: IMG.

Chuckling at the cuteness, you head to the bathroom with your new attire and hop in the shower. Thinking about all the things you sent to him over the past few days as you wash away work and plane from your body. ‘He must really miss me already’ you smirk.

“Sweet-One. Are you still here?”

“Just in the bathroom. Will be out in a sec”

Considering you went straight to the airport from work, carrying just a handbag for supplies, you’re pleased with what you’ve been able to achieve. A fresh bit of makeup, used some of Hobi’s supplies to freshen your skin and this new underwear fits you perfectly. The black lace offers a peek of your skin through the sheer material, something he loves. You look and feel great. Putting on heels to complete the look, making your legs look longer. A quick tousle adds a bit of volume to your freshly washed locks, before switching off the light and opening the door.

The room was still lit with pink hues and complete silence as you leave the bathroom. His soaked shoes neatly placed by the door so you knew he was still here. Quietly closing the door, you walk into the room, where Hobi is sat on the edge of the bed, legs outstretched and looking damn fine. His wet black hair framing his gorgeous face, the white tee he wears glowing pink from the neon, contrasting with his leather jacket and black jeans.

He looks to you, lust filled as he sees how the underwear accentuates your curves. How the sheer offers a sneak peek of skin. How the heels make you confident and the light reflecting pink and purple highlights on your moisturised skin. You always look beautiful to him, but all this effort just for him is mind-blowing.

“Did you run here?” you ask, noticing his jacket covered in raindrops, his jeans sticking to his skin and his tee covered in translucent spots where the water was trying to make it see through.

“The taxi was taking too long. Come here,” he beckons wanting to feel you and you don’t deny him. “I’m sorry to make you do this Kitten. I just needed you tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whisper standing between his now spread legs, your navel right in his eye-line. Tempting enough to bring his lips to the sensitive skin below, sending sparks through your body.

Your hands meet his as he grips your hips tugging slightly to imply for you to kneel, your face coming to meet his. Running your hands up his wet thighs as you reach the ground, adding your first touch on his eager body. You watch him intently as his breathing starts to exaggerate.

“So, what is it that you need… Daddy?” your eyes flicking to his lap and back again. His vision glazes at the mention of his name. Beads of water from his hair run down his face, dripping onto his white tee. His lips subconsciously pout, as though to say ‘oooh’ but it makes no sound. He grazes his hand along your shoulder until it reaches the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair as he pulls you into his lips. He starts off tender but you latch onto his bottom lip with your teeth, pulling away slightly to cause a slight sting. Swiping your tongue along his lip before releasing it, his eyes widening at the implied rawness while you bite your bottom lip reactively. This sends him slamming into your lips, kissing so hard it causes your lips to swell. Your hands fumbling with his jeans while he moves to your neck, his movements sending tingles through your body.

Pulling him to stand by his waistband, you release him from the confines of his jeans. You pump him a few times, smearing the pre-cum at the tip to lube your hand movements. A few groans from his lips make you look up at him. He looks divine, watching you intently as his cock is so close to your face with every stroke. The pink glow illuminating his face, making his darkened eyes appear jet black. He removes his leather jacket, not once breaking his attention from you leaving him in his white tee, stood at the end of the bed with you kneeling before him. Hobi places a hand to the back of your head, not to push you onto him but to give you the nod to go ahead.

Starting from the base you lay him flat on your tongue making sure to maintain eye contact, moving painfully slow up his cock until the tip reaches your lips, pressing the lightest of kisses to coat your lips in his precum. He’s pouting again so you know you have him just where you need him. Wrapping your hands pumping him onto your tongue, making sure he’s watching your every move as more pre-cum leaks, pooling in your mouth. When he starts to glaze over, you inch down to this base covering him in a mix of pre-cum and your drool.

He rolls his head slowly as he lets groans leave his throat, like his body is forcing them out but he’s keen to keep watching you take him in your mouth. Brushing his hand through his wet locks, ensuring his hair isn’t in his eyes. He’s obviously been thinking about this all day as he’s getting firmer in your mouth by the second. Flicking your tongue over him and sucking a little when he needs it. You begin to swallow around him to prevent drool from leaving your lips. Hobi’s breathing increases when he starts to hit the back of your throat, pushing him closer to his climax.

“No, not yet Kitten,” he pleads making you pull off with a pop, pouting your lips at him in disapproval as he sits back on the bed. He already knows you miss his taste.

“I’m not ready for that yet,” he says before pulling you up to him in a kiss, making you straddle his lap. Hobi’s kissing you like a man starved, desperate to be as close to you as possible. His hands roaming your back, pulling you into his chest. He leans back falling onto the bed and rolls over. You’re both half off the bed as he rolls on top of you, his legs between yours as his hair drips cold beads of water.

Hobi finds the soft spots on your neck, working his way down your body. His hands roaming your skin as they find your hardened nipples through the lace bra, making him smirk at you. He knows how you love him roaming your body and the soft material allows him to see this. He bites your nipple through the fabric causing you to cry out and buck your hips up into him.

“Oh, you like that?” he smirks at you, already knowing the answer, but awaits your reply anyway.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter between your increased breathing.

“Yeah, what?” he smirks at you, running his nimble fingers delicately along the scalloped edges of the bra cup, teasing your exposed flesh.

“Yes, Daddy. I like it.”

“That’s better.” He pulls the lace down to expose your breast to the air before he’s wrapping his lips around the hardened peak. Tongue flicking as he gently sucks on it, sending electric through your veins reaching your core with a bang. Instinctively writhing under him searching for friction where you ache. His other hand cupping your other breast, thumb teasing the nipple through the lace.

“M-m...more,” you beg.

“Hmmm?” Not once stopping his movements on your chest.

“H-Hobi!” Crying lowly.

“What’s that Sweet-one? What do you need?” Not once being phased by your requests, teasing you with his words as well as his touch, continuing his light nipping and flicking on your chest.

“More!” You beg.

Hobi bites down on your nipple, pulling it between his teeth once more. You’re shooting your hips up into the air, arching yourself to meet his body, desperate for friction. His other hand reaching the small of your back to hold you against him. His lips trailing over your stomach, past your navel and along the sensitive skin sparking excitement wherever he places them. His hands sliding behind you across your tantalised flesh down to where the waistband of your briefs lies, hooking his fingers under. His face inspecting the lace detailing as he slides off the end of the bed to his knees.

“Oh Kitten, I buy you new underwear…” Hobi pauses as he teases, his tongue running along the wet sheer lace, offering glimpses of your sticky core underneath, noting how wet you are. He grips the waistband with his teeth, watching your face intently as you prop yourself on your elbows. He’s peeling your briefs from you with his teeth, hands assisting at your hips, removing them completely before lifting them to his face. He breathes in the scent while you watch him, eyes latched on his,“...and you go and ruin these already.” You’re left agape, shocked at his actions but they’re thrilling. Discarding the briefs, he’s running his hands up your thighs to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. His touch is so sensual that it verges between a tickle and desire.

Fingers continue to trace over your skin, grazing the softness at the tops of your legs before running down them and twisting inwards, encouraging you to open your legs for him. His hands settling at the apex of your thighs, squeezing lightly as whimpers leave you.

“Perhaps I should punish you,” Hobi teases as he traces his fingers over your soaked core, dipping his index into you a little before removing it. Rolling your wetness between his index and thumb watching it string between them, making sure you see just how wet you are for him. Your cheeks flushed red as he continues to tease with his fingers, your mouth open as though it’s the only way to breathe. Your breathing hitches as he taunts with a single digit parting your folds to enter you, a welcome relief yet not enough. You sigh at the slightness, desperate to feel stretched and he knows that’s what you really want. He’s smirking as you groan at the absence, making it known that this is your punishment.

He places the pad of his thumb against your clit, adding pressure before circling it, building tension within you. It’s so gentle that it shouldn’t feel so good, his nimble finger stroking your walls finding that spot far too quickly. His movements increasing, tightening the coil within you. It’s too soon for you to cum. Too soon, you keep telling yourself, yet you can start to feel yourself clench around his finger. Your head falls back to the bed unable to hold yourself up any longer. Your gasps and moans fill the room as you’re nearing your high, temptingly close, when he stops and removes himself from you.

You groan as you lift your head to look down at him, his eyebrows raised suggestively as though he’s telepathically telling you, ‘you knew this was coming’. He’s still kneeling between your thighs, hands caressing your body as it comes down from the peak it almost reached, he’s feeling for your breathing to settle before he begins again. This time, tempting you with two fingers, stretching you ever so slightly, yet it’s still not enough. He repeats his mission, bringing you close to your high and stopping just as you’re about to throb all over his fingers.

“Hobi!” you groan.

“What’s up Sweet-one?”

“Stop teasing me, p-please?”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want”

“How about you ask me nicely?”

You sigh, your body slick with a neon pink sweat sheen.

“D-Daddy, please?”

“Please, what?”

“P-please fill me. Please?”

He rests back on his heels, still on the floor at the end of the bed fully dressed. A devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Let me think about it”

That’s when he’s latching his lips to your clit while he delves three fingers into you. You’re wet enough that the room fills with the sounds from his movements as well as your gasps. You’re temptingly close to cumming all over his fingers, his tongue flicking back and forth over your clit while his fingers curl to hit that spot within you. Already clenching, pleas leaving your lips between whimpers, begging Hobi not to stop. You’re desperate to finally cum, wishing and hoping that he’ll let you this time. Before you know it, you’re beginning to throb.

“C-close” your mouth so dry from trying to breathe that your voice is barely audible. But he doesn’t stop, only starts to suck on your clit allowing the tension to build. Your stomach is so tight from your previous closeness that it’s ready to snap. Then it does, your body awash with pleasure as you jolt from the sensation of your release. You’re so in the throws of it that you don’t notice Hobi stops his movements to suck his fingers, removing his clothes and kneeling behind you on the bed. You glance up at him, a satisfied grin across your face when you see just how hard he is.

“Up.” He commands. When he uses this tone, you know not to delay so you shakily get up still recovering from your high.

“All fours.” He asks as you maneuver yourself on the bed into the position he wants. He unclasps your bra, allowing it to come undone so you can simply toss it to the side. He brushes his hair back once more, encouraging the black strands away from his face.

“Closer.” You shuffle backward so your legs are either side of him. He’s stroking himself, pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“Good.” Stroking the skin on your thighs and ass with his other hand before going in to bite it, leaving a mark.

Before you can screech at the sudden attack on your cheek, he’s brushing his tongue on it to soothe the mark before his hand is reaching between your legs cupping your soaking cunt. He shuffles to rub the head of his cock between your folds.

“Are you ready for me baby? Your pussy says so,” his pre-cum smearing into your wetness, covering his cock as you nod a reply. He groans at the feeling of your cum on his cock. His hands trace your ass cheeks as they reach to grip your hips, before pulling you onto him, thrusting deep in one swift movement. The sting of the stretch making you gasp out, hissing through your teeth at the welcomed intrusion. You love feeling stretched around him. He stalls for a second, getting comfortable with his girth as he pushes your shoulders down, sliding his hands up your shining body encouraging you to be face down and ass up. Perfecting the angle before he begins thrusting into you, hands tight on your hips as he’s brushing and hitting your spot every time.

The once spent coil within you begins tightening again as he continues his onslaught, skin slapping against skin as he ruts into you. Pushing all the right buttons and sending you into a groaning mess.  

“What do you need Sweet-one?” he questions between thrusts.

“Y-You Hobi. I need you,” he reaches around, pulling you up so you’re riding him. Legs spread across his lap as you lean into him, giving him the perfect view down over your shoulder. He’s watching you intently while you’re grinding on him as he thrusts up into you. Your mouth’s agape as you seek air with whimpers leaving you on the out breath, all while your chest bounces with each of his thrusts. Your back against his bare chest as both of your sweat covered bodies glimmer in pink hues. His black hair in strands sticking to his forehead as his jet black eyes feast on you.

“Good...” he groans against your ear, lips tantalising your neck and shoulder as his hands reach around your front. Hobi’s actions sending flows of electric to where you need it, making you ache. His left hand moves on your breast, rolling the hardened peak between his thumb and finger. His right hand reaches down to your clit, toying it with his fingers as he helps you find a second release. “...I need you too.”

His admittance sends you clenching around him, groans leaving both of your lips as you both near your high. Your circular motions mimicking the rhythm of his cock, almost like it’s a dance to an imaginary Latin beat. Hobi’s lips are all over your neck, biting down and marking shades of purple while the pressure he’s adding to your clit has the familiar feeling returning as you start to throb. He stops his work on your breast to reach to your shoulder, holding you down on his cock as he cums up into you. The feeling of him coating your walls sending you over the edge, clenching around him as you cum, head thrown over his shoulder calling his name. A white blinding light sending you into a heavy-lidded darkness as the feeling overwhelms.

He lays you on the bed as you become vulnerable, wrapping you in the duvet and kisses your forehead. You’re tired and it’s been a long day. You had extra hours at work, then travelling until late to come and see him on his beck and call. He loves you dearly, and you know it. He holds you, smoothing your hair as your body succumbs to exhaustion.

A while later, you’re being carried to the bathroom his lips on your forehead as he peppers you with kisses. A tepid bath run and filled with bubbles as he gently lowers you in, before getting in behind you so you’re laying on his chest. Reaching over to grab the sponge to wash your body. He brushes the sponge on your body as you wake to his luxurious aftercare.

“Wait,” you sigh. Hobi stopping in his tracks, sponge lightly squeezed in his hand and dripping into the bath questioning his actions. You turn your head to place your lips against his, a long loving sweet kiss to remind him just how much you love him. You gush at each other when you stop, beaming smiles and chuckling a little when you say, “Ok, carry on”.

Read more on the Masterlist.

[sylvctica]

trying to write headcanons and dive into it on a foggy brain sucks cause im still trying to sort out how sylvie feels emotions. they’re loud, reactive and they are definitely emotional; not empathetic, more sympathetic. they feel their emotions in the moment, and when that emotional high wears off (may it be negative, positive, or just strong in general), they go back to ... a neutral stance.

it kinda becomes a thing over the years that they’ve notice that they finally have emotions that stay, concepts that have stuck to them, memories and thoughts that revive emotions that they thought they already processed so it becomes the equivalent of: “why am i still stuck on this? why? i’ve already sorted out my feelings on this. isn't it support to go away?”

which you know, is a big fat lie if they’re still feeling it even now, cause they never truly let themselves go through that entire wave of emotion because they’re scared of how overwhelming it is. it’s one thing to exprerience something in the moment and be reactive, it’s another to relive something you’ve already experienced, especially when they’re a person that doesn’t want to live in the past anymore.

they also don’t know how to handle it, or reach out in particular to anyone because they’ve never really had to up till now for emotional support. they reach out for companionship, yes, or if they do feel alone or just want to bug someone for fun -- but they’ve never felt comfortable enough to talk to anyone about those sort of things.

it comes with the mentality of being a god, which although they’ve broken some good parts of it, some others have stuck. being seen as a god means you must be strong, you must be self-sufficient, you must be self-supportive, you have people that rely on you so you cannot be weak -- at least that’s what sylvie still has engrained in their brain which is still hard to detach from even after 2k years of not being duty bound anymore.

there’s three primary unresolved things that sylvie still needs to process:

i’ve already said this one enough times on my blog but conceptualizing the loss of friends on their reawakening which caused a deep fear of loneliness to come out of it

the raw anger and hatred towards celestia for khaenri’ah which although they have partially resolved, it still lingers and will push them towards decisions in support of demolishing it (by extension, some unresolved anger towards the role of the archons in it)

guilt of abandoning their duty, they will, for the most part, feel like they have failed in being the guardian they were meant to be, since they left their village in a time of need [for unknown reasons yet]

they will most likely avoid the topics mentioned, and if they slip up a little bit into revealing something they will immediately reroute the conversation somewhere else.

i guess TL;DR sylvie needs to learn to be vulnerable but they’re scared of it and by extension are still in their mentality of ‘i am a god i need to be strong’ so ... they dont tell anyone about it even if it bugs them

[maisieseaman]

10th December 2020

Experimental drawing/ illustration workshop

In todays lesson we made drawing and stitch pieces. We had to make 4 simple collage + stitch pieces based on 4 quotes from our books, to create disjointed narratives, stitching together different time lines/moments/thoughts. We then photocopied our outcomes creating further compositions which we will develop more at home. At the start of the lesson we looked at 5 artists who inspired our work...

Debbie Smyth

Smyth is a textile artist well known for her detailed and intricate stitched art. She creates these contemporary artworks by stretching thread between plotted nails that result in a beautiful picture. Each image is carefully plotted out before being filled out with thread and Smyth tends to use only black thread which makes for a minimal but effective piece. The sharp angles contrast nicely with the floating ends of the thread that Smyth leaves in sight, creating a sense of movement and free flow, suggesting that she doesn’t mind imperfections within her art. Although the process is rather complex and time consuming, Smyth tries to create a lighthearted feeling of energy and spontaneity with each piece being very thoughtful and considered. The majority of her work is large-scale pieces, drawing the viewer in with an eye-catching and impressive effect. Debbie has worked with many famous brands such as Adidas and Sony which has helped her to create a platform for herself and to boost her career. Her work is versatile and suits any environment that it is put in such as home, work, shops etc, which is why i think her work is so popular. Sewing is not a new skill to Smyth, as she learnt it at a very young age, but it wasn’t until school that she really discovered the potential for textiles and how much you could do with it. Artists that have inspired Smyth throughout her career are Michael Raedecker, Thomas Raschke, Anne Wilson, Laura Thomas, Chiharu Shiota and Hilary Ellis, because of their unusual way of using textiles/thread/line that draws her to them. Her artworks are also inspired by memories from her life. She loves drawing or photographing situations/events and bringing memories back to life in a piece of art and she likes to allow people to admire the overlooked/unappreciated things in life. I love her art as it is beautifully deceiving. At first glance it looks like 2D pieces with the thread stuck down flat to the canvas, however, as you move closer you realise it’s they're 3D pieces, drawing the viewer in, looking almost mesmerising.

Rossana Taormina

Taorimina is an Italian artist whose work is very similar to Anzeri’s with the concept of stitching onto old photographs from the past. However, unlike Anzeri, Rosanna tends to use photos of multiple people such as family/group pictures. She does stitched geometric shapes on top of the photos using simple coloured thread like white, to keep her art minimal and to fit with the antique theme, as i think bright colours would become overwhelming, and i believe Rossana wants both the original pictures and her additional stitching to be equally appreciated. Her art looks almost otherworldly, with the stitched elements connecting the people together, implying/leading us to assume that they all have a good relationship/bond. Taormina’s contemporary art regenerates and repurposes found photographs, maps, nautical charts, books and fabric, bringing them to life using various techniques, most of which involve textiles and stitching. She was inspired to incorporate stitching into her art as her grandmother was an embroiderer and so she wanted to carry on her legacy, which makes her work unique and has a personal connection to her and her family. For each photograph, she sees imaginary connections and imagines the life that the strangers may have once had, creating her own narratives for them, giving the abandoned and forgotten photos the attention and appreciation they deserve. Rossana once said, “My art is a loving collection of objects, an anthology of remains of forgotten existence. The object becomes a pretext to reactivate memories.” I like her work for its simplicity and antique look, bringing life to old photos, however i feel that her work is rather repetitive and uninteresting, not making it very memorable.

Maurizio Anzeri

Anzeri is an Italian artist whose works combines stitching with found imagery, usually of people, using the stitching as a way to hide their identity. He uses colourful thread to show their personalities, almost like an aura and sews irregular shapes and odd patterns, making each piece unique. I think the stitching elevates his work, adding texture and emotion, giving the images a whole new meaning. He gets all of his photos from places like flea markets whilst he is travelling, later turning them into beautiful art work. I love the fact that he uses photographs with history behind them, although their story is unknown, it allows the viewer to create their own narrative. The overall vintage and antique look combined with bright thread adds a modern twist to a dated image. These mixed media pieces look almost like portals to different dimensions where the past and future intersect. Anzeri gains his inspiration from places, books, moments, songs, nature etc suggesting that he is easily influenced by things in everyday life. He reveals their thoughts and feelings through colour and shape, capturing their natural beauty and emotions. He usually sews onto their faces, leaving just their eyes as a centre piece to the dense layers of thread, almost like they're watching you with beady eyes, adding a sense of intimidation and eeriness. I love Maurizio’s work for its rawness and contemporary style, inspiring our stitched work in class and encouraging us to experiment with patterns and colour to compliment our collages nicely.

Annegret Soltau

Soltau is a German artist whose work combines random faces with geometric over stitchings and odd cut up pictures of her as she once said,”I am using myself as a model because I can go the farthest with me.” A lot of her art looks unsettling with her self portraits stitched back together in unusual places/shapes consisting of animals and other peoples faces. Soltau almost creates new creatures, playing around with symmetry/asymmetry making for eerie and unnatural pieces. The way she has stitched each piece looks like they've had surgery that has gone wrong and all different facial features have been stitched back together, almost like Frankenstein, which adds to the uncanniness. Her work covers themes of identity, loss and transformation and her geometric over stitchings look like connections/wires wrapping around her face. She is very experimental artist whose harsh tearing and mismatched faces have been influenced by traumatic experiences in her early life. Her work has also been inspired by her own life as well as personal surroundings and society. I find her work very inspiring due to it’s pure honesty and rawness and i love it for its disturbing imagery, shocking the viewer and drawing them in.

John Stezaker

Stezaker is a British artist whose collages portray passageways through space and time, combining old black and white images of people with places/different people creating an unsettling atmosphere. His work is highly considered and simple but very effective, almost like portals/ wormholes to different worlds. This links in with our theme of multiverse and the idea of there being many different universes, Stezaker managing to capture this beautifully within his art. He gets his images from books, magazines and postcards, the ‘secondhand’ images adding to the overall dated and worn look to his work. He focuses on history and identity, overlapping shots of various famous stars creating a sense of unfamiliarity and uncanniness from something that was originally so normal. Stezaker’s work explores themes of surrealism and is unique to him, each piece creating a new narrative, open to interpretation by the viewer. John also combines images of men and women to add contrast and to reiterate that even though the images are different, they still complement each other nicely, detracting from the piece as a whole, allowing the characters to be admired. He influenced my classwork greatly as i kept my collages straightforward and simple, whereas, i would usually fill the whole page with colourful images, i stuck to a muted colour palette. I personally think his work is very charming and comforting, with a sense of familiarity to it, as he brings life back into old forgotten images. I love how minimal it is, not overcomplicating things, letting the images speak for themselves. 

My own stitched pieces:

I used magazine cut outs to do collaged pieces based on words from our books. Next i used various coloured thread and sewed geometric/ patterns on the collages to forms connections between the images. Then we used the photocopier to change the colours of the images. My personal favourite is the black and blue because it makes the thread really stand out makes the images look really cool.

[perfectirishgifts]

Leading Through Transition, Do You Slow Down? Wait And See? Yes And No

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/leading-through-transition-do-you-slow-down-wait-and-see-yes-and-no/

Leading Through Transition, Do You Slow Down? Wait And See? Yes And No

A woman wearing a facemask to prevent the spread of coronavirus walks past a boarded up storefront … [] at the intersection of Hill Street and 5th Street in downtown Los Angeles, California, November 5, 2020 as the country awaits the result of the November 3 US presidential election. – Businesses in major US cities were boarded up in anticipation of unrest. The nail-biting US election was on the cusp of finally producing a winner Thursday, with Democrat Joe Biden declaring “no doubt” he would beat President Donald Trump and all eyes on the decisive state of Pennsylvania. (Photo by Robyn Beck / AFP) (Photo by ROBYN BECK/AFP via Getty Images)

As 2020 hurls itself to an end, we are in a time of wild transition. Throughout the United States, spiking Covid-19 cases stagger our healthcare systems, even as hopeful vaccines are on the horizon. Downtowns are decimated from months of protests and Covid-closed restaurants, even as a spirit of rebuilding emerges from behind boarded up windows. Businesses large and small, as well as schools and governments, struggle to find new ways of working and remaining solvent, even as their froth of activity accelerates innovation and digitalization. Highlighting the chaos is a presidential transition adding daily drama.

This time of transition can feel like a muddle. When waters are so choppy, it’s easy to get caught up in reactiveness, lurching this way and that. We sense a whirlwind of activity, but it’s not clear what will come of it, which way it will go. In such times, it may be natural for us as leaders to slow down and take a wait-and-see attitude. The slowing down, I would argue, is helpful, but the wait-and-see is a mistake. For it’s exactly when gears are shifting that a skillful leader can find a new gear. That’s the opportunity in front of us right now.

Zen leadership and the principles of resonance can guide us in how to use it.

What is Zen leadership and why would it be so helpful right now? If we think of leadership, not as a position, but ala Kevin Cashman as authentic self-expression that creates value, Zen radically reframes the authentic self. Rather than regarding ourselves as separate, corpuscular entities, we’re invited by Zen training into a direct experience of self as a resonating energetic system that is part of the whole and whole in its part. Even if we can only imagine this experience, we can acknowledge the physical fact that we resonate with energy through our senses, we transform those signals into perceptions, emotions, and thoughts, and we radiate our energy and actions back into the field around us, for better and worse. If we are sincere in wanting our authentic self-expression to create value for others, we tune ourselves to discern signals that support our intent amidst the noise of transitional times and become a signal that is a beacon for others.  

Both our ability to shape conditions and serve as a beacon are hampered by a wait-and-see attitude that is too passive. That’s not to say wait-and-see is always wrong; I’ve worked with leaders in companies who build their entire strategy around waiting to see what industry trends emerge and then being a fast follower. I had a colleague who was in a position of receiving a buy-out package when his company was acquired, and the longer he waited to see what package was being offered, the sweeter it became.

But in times like these where so many people are facing grief, confusion and exhaustion, the clarifying role of leadership is particularly important. As a recent McKinsey report on the Covid-19 implications for business suggests, leaders “can help people see this time as a quest toward something new, not as a restitution of bygone days, and not as chaos to be muddled through.” Clarifying priorities, reducing busyness, setting clear boundaries around work from home, and rethinking meetings from a zero base are among the leadership moves suggested by their research.

In order to discern the “something new” that becomes a worthy quest, slowing down is genuinely useful. In our speediest mode, our nervous system enters a pattern called the Driver, which is laser-beam focused on hitting a particular goal, but is not good at sensing or listening. When we slow down, which we can do literally by slowing down our physical rate of movement and slowing down our exhale, our senses open up again. You can experience this for yourself by stimulating the Driver pattern in your nervous system. A quick way to do this is by pressing your hands together with your index fingers extended and intensely sighting down your fingers. You’ll notice that this sharp, frontal focus comes at the expense of peripheral vision. Quit pushing and you’ll sense a wider view returning.

Another way to experience the widening of senses as you slow down is to shake out superficial tension in your body and breathe out the longest, slowest exhale that is comfortable. Take in a breath and do it again, even slower. And a third time, slower yet. Individual results may vary, but when I’ve done this with leaders, they report an increasing sense of calm and quiet, as if they could hear a pin drop. That quietude is the opening of greater listening. We become more sensitive, which is another way of saying we resonate with a wider ranger of energy. Moreover, with curiosity-infused listening, we filter less, and are more open to taking things in raw, rather than jumping to conclusions based on our habits and experience. This is a crucial skill for sensing where we might go in transitional times, rather than where we’ve been.

Another way Zen Leadership can help us find forward strategies in transitional times is by a flip of mindset from coping with problems to co-creating with opportunities. This is not a matter of putting on rose-colored glasses, but a pivot point where real leadership begins. A person in coping mode is stuck, which may manifest as victimization, depression, denial, anger, indignation, gossip, or any number of ways, all of which are characterized by a self stuck to a situation it does not like. Without movement or direction, one cannot lead others.

By contrast, a person in co-creating mode is finding a way to flow and harmonize with surrounding conditions. Because such a leader creates movement, it’s possible to capture others in the wake of progress. And because such a leader is harmonizing with the bigger picture, others can sense it, too, especially when it’s pointed out to them by a leader who saw it first.

The crucial pivot point between the negativity of coping mode and the positivity of co-creating is the zero point of acceptance. Acceptance does not mean that we like what’s going on or that we won’t work to change it. Quite the opposite, it means we take it as it is—clearly, honestly, unflinchingly—and let our creativity go to work, changing our thinking, our priorities, how we work with others, and even our best-laid plans.

A practice for this flip in thinking is to start on the problem side of things and consider what problems this time is presenting for you, your team or your business. You can brainstorm several restatements of the problem, getting to the bottom of it and why it’s a real issue for you. The flip the comes in shifting into a posture of complete, unflinching acceptance: it is what it is and, in a sense, the conditions shaping these problems are exactly your pallet to paint with. You can then go back to your problem statements and flip them around in terms of what opportunity each one presents. Do this to enough statements of the problem and themes almost certainly emerge that suggest a promising way forward. In this spirit, you co-create with conditions to shape what happens next.

This is a potent time where we as leaders have an opportunity to shape the world we want to re-enter post Covid-19. For you that might be a world of less racism and resource consumption. It might be a world that reaffirms love over hate or facts over falsehoods. Don’t let a wait-and-see attitude let others define it for you. Slow down, sense the opportunities, and co-create what this transition becomes for you and all who look to you for leadership.

From Leadership Strategy in Perfectirishgifts

[toadrakua]

Lost Causes: Draft

This was the story I submitted to Written In Light, a Fanzine based around the game “Destiny.” After having slacked off for most of the time allotted, I only just managed to “complete” it after asking for an extension on the deadline. However, this proved to not be enough, and it was rejected due to not quite fitting in with the theme of the Fanzine. So instead I have decided to post it here, all fourteen-hundred and ninety-five words of it, so that I may share anyway, even if it did not manage to completely tell the story I wished it to tell in the 1500 word limit I was given. I hope all enjoy it, and remember:

Eyes up Guardian.

“Guardian, I’ve located the distress beacon,” The ghost said as it fizzled into existence in Draco-66’s face. “But are you sure we should be boarding a Fallen Ketch? Alone?”

Shoving the baseball-sized AI away with a well-armored hand, the Exo Titan returned to the controls of his jumpship. With swift metal figures dancing across the console, he input the command codes necessary to initiate interplanetary travel.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Norm. There’s no need for us to bother another Fireteam with what’ll likely amount to tagging salvage,” Draco replied to his long-time companion, just before hitting the launch key. After a moment of pregnant silence, the Fangs of Nyx’s jump drive whirred to life, sputtering and groaning as it hesitantly obeyed its pilot. As the Titan stared out at the stars through the cockpit glass, the vessel leapt forward, rendering that very image a blur as time and space were ripped asunder in its wake.

A half hour later, and the jumpship lurched back into real-space, the Guardian and his Ghost found themselves staring down the bow of one of the largest ships still operating in the solar system: a derelict Fallen Ketch. As he brought the ship about to face the alien vessel, Draco couldn’t help but marvel at the shear size of the warship before him. Even halfway obscured by the darkness of space, the rotting hulk made his favored jumpship seem like a meager pebble lying against a boulder in a large, empty abyss. It was said by the Warlocks back home that these behemoths having been transporting the four-armed Eliksni—known to most as “The Fallen”—about the universe since the fall of their empire hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. Not that they had thought he’d been listening. In their eyes, a Titan like him should have no interest in these things. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. The Fallen had always intrigued him. To him, at least, these interstellar nomads had never come to humanity’s shores with the intention to rule, like some, nor were they here to destroy it all, like others. From what he’d read from Cryptarchy’s archives and the Warlocks’ tomes, they may have just been fleeing the same darkness that had also nearly consumed humanity. Were either species not so stubborn and territorial, maybe there could have been peace?

Either way, here was one of their ships to explore, and this guardian was not about to pass up the chance. As Fangs of Nyx approached the lurking vessel, Norm set to work breaking in. Patching in through the jumpship’s communications array, the crafty little cuboid weaved its essence deep into the tangled, fractured corridors of the Ketch’s subsystems, sniffing out any form of working code it could find. It’ll take ages for me just to cobble together a program to open a simple door, let alone reactivate an airlock, Norm mused. Heh, ages for me. Somehow I don’t think it’ll be more than a few nanoseconds for my guardian. The Ghost noted the irony of that statement just as it finished compiling the data. Not even a second after it had started, it chirped a word of accomplishment to its peer, and relinquished control of the ship to Draco for final approach on the hangar.

Steering the craft towards the shuttered orifice, the Titan nodded to his long-time companion to pop the hatch, and so it was. WHOOSH! Immediately, debris came pouring out from the opening into open space—and slamming into the view-screen was the distinctive many-limbed silhouette of a Fallen Vandal; the bloated corpse of one, at the very least. It only stuck around for little bit, leaving behind a trail sticky bodily fluid against the portion of hull it had impacted. As his ghost replicated the sound of gagging behind him, Draco brought their ship in for landing, and disembarked. As soon as the magnetic soles of his boots hit the steel flooring, the Guardian was guns up, the barrel pointing at whatever dark corners an Eliksni could have been hiding in.

“Looks like no-one’s home,” he told nobody in particular. His ghost scoffed in response.

“What was your first clue? The lights being off, the corpses littering the floor? Or was it the lack of a welcoming party that tipped you off?”

If Norm’s Guardian was glaring, he couldn’t tell through the helmet. Never-the-less, the duo set off down the winding corridors of the defunct warship, Norm lighting the way, and Draco scanning every approaching fork in the road for a possible ambush. Each hallway they passed through opened up to another, each littered from floor to ceiling with grime and scraps of emptied ether sups, scraped dry of the nourishing substance the Fallen used to survive. Every so often they’d come another body; emaciated skeletons of what was once a proud Fallen warrior, their bellies bloated from rot, the life drained from now soulless eye sockets. For what seemed like the millionth time their career together, both Guardian and ghost were glad they couldn’t smell the no-doubt toxic fumes that meandered about these halls. After about an hour or so of walking, the two found themselves in a larger, more well lit space. He’d seen this type of set-up before back on Venus; a large, tiered open plan lined wall-to-wall with glowing displays and headed by an enormous throne at its back wall. Normally, the cathedral-esque command deck was just one of many areas on the ship that could be used to pilot the mammoth vessel, yet Draco and Norm had just hit the jackpot by coming across it first. Norm spared no time getting to work sifting through data logs as its guardian began scanning for any signs of movement.

His head on a swivel, Draco found himself following the trails of sticky liquids and wasted sup caps back to their deceased origin. Just like every room before it, this one was littered with the bodies starving Fallen who had become far too weak to carry on. There was a difference, however, between these Fallen and the ones who’d come before. From the looks of it, most of those who died here did not do so of their own accord. A surprising number bore wounds from shock weapons found not too far from other Eliksni across the floor. Some, it would appear, died from self afflicted injury, their own pistols still grasped in their claws. Of all the death that permeated from within this room, none were as pitiful as what sat displayed upon the once proud throne. Slouched over the empty vial of ether still clutched in it claws was but a lowly Dreg, poised as though praying to some deity that would never come.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Draco found himself caught off guard by the loud crash on metal coming from beyond the only other open passageway. After repeating himself, he called for his ghost to follow as he rushed in, gun at the ready and gearing for a fight. When he was certain the perpetrator behind the noise has stopped running, he slowed his paced to near a crawl and began his search. Tip-toeing past bits and pieces of shattered Servitors, the Titan took aim at every nook and cranny that looked large enough to hide a Dreg. As he turned the corner, an erratically blinking light caught his eye. There, at the end of the corridor, sat a malfunctioning Servitor, raw ether still dripping from its mismatched carapace. Behind it, he could just make out a series of four tiny eyes, staring, unblinking, back at him. Lowering his weapon, his ghost reemerged behind him, its metaphorical jaw hitting the floor.

“Is that an… Infant?” For once, Norm didn’t have anything snarky to say, and just floated there as its Guardian proceeded to approach the juvenile Eliksni, silently setting aside his firearm and gently cooing. Chittering with fear, the child seemed unable to decide whether to run and hide, or try and fight a battle it could not win. Realizing that himself, Draco brought his eyes from the malnourished youth, and down to the still dripping ether from its broken protector.

“Ghost… Norm. You think you can fix this Servitor’s ether processors? Maybe boost the signal of the distress beacon?” He asked the floundering AI still questioning the existence of the creature before it.

“What—I— yes, I... probably can,” Norm managed to sputter. “But the question is, why do you want to me to help feed a future killer of Guardians?”

“Because we can’t take it with us to the tower, and I can’t simple drop it off at the nearest Fallen orphanage, now can I?” Draco replied as he got to feet, being careful to quickly stow his weapon before the child saw him holding it. “Besides, isn’t that what being a Guardian is all about?”

Norm sighed. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that logic.”

[chocolate-brownies]

When I was in college, I went off to the mountains for a weekend of hiking with an older, wiser friend of twenty-two. After setting up our tent, we sat by a stream, watching the water swirl around rocks, talking about our lives. At one point she described how she was learning to be “her own best friend.” A wave of sadness came over me, and I broke down sobbing. I was the furthest thing from my own best friend. I was continually harassed by an inner judge who was merciless, nit-picking, demanding, always on the job. My guiding assumption was, “Something is fundamentally wrong with me,” as I struggled to control and fix what felt like a basically flawed self.

Over the last several decades, through my work with tens of thousands of clients and meditation students, I’ve come to see the pain of perceived deficiency as epidemic. It’s like we’re in a trance that causes us to see ourselves as unworthy. Yet, I have seen in my own life, and with countless others, that we can awaken from this trance through practicing mindfulness and self-compassion. We can come to trust the goodness and purity of our hearts.

In order to flower, self-compassion depends on honest, direct contact with our own vulnerability. Compassion fully blossoms when we actively offer care to ourselves. To help people address feelings of insecurity and unworthiness, I often introduce mindfulness and compassion through a meditation I call the RAIN of Self-Compassion. The acronym RAIN, first coined about 20 years ago by Michele McDonald, is an easy-to-remember tool for practicing mindfulness. It has four steps:

Recognize what is going on

Allow the experience to be there, just as it is

Investigate with kindness

Natural awareness, which comes from not identifying with the experience.

You can take your time and explore RAIN as a stand-alone meditation or move through the steps in a more abbreviated way whenever challenging feelings arise.

R—Recognize What’s Going On

Recognizing means consciously acknowledging, in any given moment, the thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that are affecting us. Like awakening from a dream, the first step out of the trance of unworthiness is simply to recognize that we are stuck, subject to painfully constricting beliefs, emotions, and physical sensations. Common signs of the trance include a critical inner voice, feelings of shame or fear, the squeeze of anxiety or the weight of depression in the body.

Different people respond to the sense of unworthiness in different ways. Some might stay busy, trying to prove themselves valuable; others, fearful of failure, may become discouraged or even paralyzed. Still others may resort to addictive behaviors to avoid facing their shame and fear. Any of these strategies can lead to either defensive or aggressive behavior with others, or unhealthy attachment.

Some of us are at war with ourselves for decades, never realizing how our self-judgment and self-aversion keep us from finding genuine intimacy with others or enjoying our lives. One palliative caregiver reports that a key regret of the dying is not having been true to themselves. Rather than listening to and trusting our inner life, most of us try to live according to the expectations of others, which we internalize. When we inevitably fall short of the mark, we condemn ourselves.

Though it may sound depressing or overwhelming, learning to recognize that we are at war with ourselves is quite empowering. One meditation student described the trance of unworthiness as “…the invisible and toxic gas I am always breathing.” As he became increasingly mindful of his incessant self-judgment and feelings of inadequacy, his aspiration to free himself from his painful inner prison grew.

A—Allowing: Taking a Life-Giving Pause

Allowing means letting the thoughts, emotions, feelings, or sensations we have recognized simply be there. Typically when we have an unpleasant experience, we react in one of three ways: by piling on the judgment; by numbing ourselves to our feelings; or by focusing our attention elsewhere. For example, we might have the sinking, shameful feeling of having been too harsh in correcting our child. But rather than allowing that feeling, we might blame our partner for not doing his or her part, worry about something completely different, or decide it’s time for a nap. We’re resisting the rawness and unpleasantness of the feeling by withdrawing from the present moment.

We allow by simply pausing with the intention to relax our resistance and let the experience be just as it is. Allowing our thoughts, emotions, or bodily sensations simply to be doesn’t mean we agree with our conviction that we’re unworthy. Rather, we honestly acknowledge the presence of our judgment, as well as the painful feelings underneath. Many students I work with support their resolve to let it be by silently offering an encouraging word or phrase to themselves. For instance, you might feel the grip of fear and mentally whisper yes in order to acknowledge and accept the reality of your experience in this moment.

Allowing creates a space that enables us to see more deeply into our own being, which, in turn, awakens our caring and helps us make wiser choices in life.

Victor Frankel writes, “Between the stimulus and the response there is a space, and in this space lies our power and our freedom.” Allowing creates a space that enables us to see more deeply into our own being, which, in turn, awakens our caring and helps us make wiser choices in life. For one student, the space of allowing gave her more freedom in the face of urges to binge eat. In the past, whenever she felt restless or anxious at night, she’d start thinking of her favorite food—trail mix—then mindlessly consume a half pound of it before going to bed, disgusted with herself. Learning to recognize the cues and taking a pause interrupted the pattern. While pausing, she would allow herself to feel the tension in her body, her racing heart, the craving. Soon, she began to contact a poignant sense of loneliness buried beneath her anxiety. She found that if she could stay with the loneliness and be gentle with herself, the craving passed.

I—Investigating with Kindness

Investigating means calling on our natural curiosity—the desire to know truth—and directing a more focused attention to our present experience. Simply pausing to ask, what is happening inside me?, can initiate recognition, but investigation adds a more active and pointed kind of inquiry. You might ask yourself: What most wants attention? How am I experiencing this in my body? Or What am I believing? What does this feeling want from me? You might notice hollowness or shakiness, then discover a sense of unworthiness and shame masked by those feelings. Unless you bring them into awareness, your unconscious beliefs and emotions will control your experience and perpetuate your identification with a limited, deficient self.

Poet Dorothy Hunt says that we need a “…heartspace where everything that is, is welcome.” Without such an attitude of unconditional care, there isn’t enough safety and openness for real investigation to take place. About ten years ago I entered a period of chronic illness. During one particularly challenging period of pain and fatigue, I became discouraged and unhappy. In my view I was terrible to be around—impatient, self-absorbed, irritable, gloomy. I began working with RAIN to recognize these feelings and judgments and to consciously allow the unpleasantness in my body and emotions to just be there. As I began to investigate, I heard an embittered voice: “I hate living like this.” And then a moment later, “I hate myself!” The full toxicity of self-aversion filled me.

Not only was I struggling with illness, I was at war with the self-centered, irritable person I believed I had become. Unknowingly, I had turned on myself and was held captive by the trance of unworthiness. But in that moment of recognizing and allowing the suffering of self-hatred, my heart began to soften with compassion.

Here’s a story that helps to describe the process I went through. Imagine while walking in the woods you see a small dog sitting by a tree. You bend down to pet it and it suddenly lunges at you, teeth bared. Initially you might be frightened and angry. But then you notice one of its legs is caught in a trap, buried under some leaves. Immediately your mood shifts from anger to concern. You see that the dog’s aggression sprang from vulnerability and pain.

This applies to all of us. When we behave in hurtful, reactive ways, it’s because we’re caught in some kind of painful trap. The more we investigate the source of our suffering, the more we cultivate a compassionate heart toward ourselves and others.

When I recognized how my leg was in a trap—sickness compounded with self aversion— my heart filled with sorrow and genuine self-care. The investigating deepened as I gently put my hand over my heart—a gesture of kindness— and invited whatever other feelings were there to surface. A swell of fear (uncertainty for my future) spread through my chest, followed by an upwelling of grief at losing my health. The sense of self-compassion unfurled fully as I mentally whispered, It’s all right, sweetheart, and consciously offered care to the depths of my vulnerability, just as I would to a dear friend.

When the intention to awaken self love and compassion is sincere, the smallest gesture—even if, initially, it feels awkward— will serve you well.

Compassion arises naturally when we mindfully contact our suffering and respond with care. As you practice the RAIN of Self-Compassion, experiment and see which intentional gesture of kindness most helps to soften or open your heart. Many people find healing by gently placing a hand on the heart or cheek; others, in a whispered message of care, or by envisioning being bathed in warm, radiant light. What matters is that once you have investigated and connected with your suffering, respond by offering care to your own heart. When the intention to awaken self love and compassion is sincere, the smallest gesture—even if, initially, it feels awkward— will serve you well.

N—Natural Loving Awareness

Natural loving awareness occurs when identification with the small self is loosened. This practice of non-identification means that our sense of who we are is not fused with any limiting emotions, sensations, or stories. We begin to intuit and live from the openness and love that express our natural awareness.

Though the first three steps of RAIN require some intentional activity, the N is the treasure: A liberating homecoming to our true nature. There’s nothing to do for this last part of RAIN; we simply rest in natural awareness.

The RAIN of Self-Compassion is not a one-shot meditation, nor is the realization of our natural awareness necessarily full, stable, or enduring. Rather, as you practice you may experience a sense of warmth and openness, a shift in perspective. You can trust this! RAIN is a practice for life—meeting our doubts and fears with a healing presence. Each time you are willing to slow down and recognize, oh, this is the trance of unworthiness… this is fear… this is hurt…this is judgment…, you are poised to de-condition the old habits and limiting self-beliefs that imprison your heart. Gradually, you’ll experience natural loving awareness as the truth of who you are, more than any story you ever told yourself about being “not good enough” or “basically flawed.”

A friend of mine was sitting with her dying mother while she was in a coma. At one point the mother opened her eyes, looked at her daughter with great lucidity, and said “You know, all my life I thought something was wrong with me.” She closed her eyes, sank back into a coma and died shortly thereafter. For my friend, her mother’s words were a parting gift. They inspired her to dedicate herself to the mindfulness and self-compassion that frees us.

We each have the conditioning to live for long stretches of time imprisoned by a sense of deficiency, cut off from realizing our intrinsic intelligence, aliveness, and love. The greatest blessing we can give ourselves is to recognize the pain of this trance, and regularly offer a cleansing rain of self-compassion to our awakening hearts.

This article also appeared in the August 2014 issue of Mindful magazine.

The post Feeling Overwhelmed? Remember “RAIN” appeared first on Mindful.

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/how-to-do-an-emotional-detox/

How to Do an Emotional Detox

Clearing toxins from your life—not just your diet—can help you find more peace and joy. Sherianna Boyle, author of Emotional Detox: 7 Steps to Release Toxicity and Energize Joy, shows us how.

Joy. It’s our most natural state. When we are in it, we feel light, effortless, smooth, confident, and free. What makes joy so powerful is its purity. It is an unfiltered state of unconditional love. Joy is abundantly and effortlessly alive, yet we let so many things—frustrations, mishaps, fears, anxieties, unhealthy relationships, and past experiences—taint it. These emotions are not toxic, but the way in which we have conditioned ourselves to respond to them is—that’s what I call reactivity.

Here is the thing: we are born with emotions; reactivity is what we learn. Raw emotions are like nutrients, reactivity like toxins. No one comes into this world with denial, expectations, the urge to gossip, guilt, doubt, and insecurity—these are reactions reinforced by how we interpret and respond to our feelings. Our spirits want to stay in sync with joy and avoid disconnection, but joy can be stripped from life at times when we most want to connect with it—like now, during the holidays.

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See also A Meditation Practice To Let In Joy + Happiness

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Like a food detox, an emotional detox leaves you feeling energized, clear, and fulfilled; it cleanses the pathway for new habits and behaviors, and lays the groundwork for connection, happiness, and love.

How to Do an Emotional Detox: 7 Simple Steps

These tips will help you let go of stress and tap into your own joy. The best part? You can do them all today.

1. Up your turmeric intake

Turmeric is a warm spice that’s high anti-inflammatory properties. Besides finding it in the spice aisle, you can also find it in the form of a supplement. It is used as a natural medicine for conditions such as headaches, arthritis, fibromyalgia, itchy skin, and more. Turmeric, to me, is an essential yet affordable way to support your detox. Try adding it to soothing herbal tea (non-caffeinated teas such as elderberry and peppermint ease digestion, while ginger and saffron can help ease tension and promote emotional balance), spicing up salads, or simply take it in the form of a supplement.

See also 10 Ways to Love Yourself (More) in the Modern World

2. Use your heating pad

By placing warmth on your abdomen or heart, you can help calm down and soften resistance of your emotions. Heat increases blood-oxygen and circulation, detoxifying the area being treated. I love to use aromatherapy heating pads for a bit of extra therapy. Try using one to detoxify your neck, feet, and hands, and even face and forehead.

3. Incorporate crystals into your practice

Crystals can be a conduit for healing because their properties can increase the flow of energy in your body as well as within your environment. Crystals can ward off negativity while promoting relaxation. If I know I am entering a heavy or possible toxic situation, I tend to put some crystals around my neck or in my pockets. A few essentials are selenite (for clearing negativity), rose quartz (the crystal of unconditional love), and kyanite (for decreasing our resistance). Meanwhile, crystal elixirs (made by infusing water with the healing energies of crystals) can help move you through stuck emotions and patterns. Stones work deeply and permanently in our subconscious level of being and have the capacity to move energy on many levels, even upgrade our DNA.

See also 6 Steps to Use Crystals in Your Daily Routine

4. Try sound therapy

Sound therapy is a form of vibrational medicine. It is often created with instruments such as tuning forks, singing bowls, and gongs and found in wellness and healing centers. Personally,

I prefer the healing sounds of crystals bowls. My husband and I have attended a few crystal bowl circles together. We both found it powerful to lie on our yoga mats next to each other, holding hands, as the vibrations penetrated our bodies.

5. Practice alternate nostril breathing

This technique helps you deepen your breath, reaching the depth of your lungs. Begin by sitting up tall, either crossed-legged on the floor or in a chair. Gently press your shoulders back and down. Place your chin parallel to the earth. Soften your eyes. Take the thumb of your right hand and close off your right nostril so that you’re exclusively breathing out of your left nostril. Breathing from your lower abdomen, begin to inhale slowly (inflating the sides of your waist) to the count of three. Pause at the top of the inhalation for one count, then exhale out of the same nostril, pulling in your navel to the count of of four. (Make sure your exhalation is one count longer than your inhalation.) Pause. Then using your right hand again, close off your left nostril with your ring finger. Repeat the same count on this side. Repeat this exercise three to four times, and notice how relaxed and open you become.

See also Looking for an Emotional Detox? Try This Sequence from C.L.E.A.N.S.E. Yoga

6. Change your pillow

Replacing your pillow can give you a surprisingly fresh start. When you sleep, you release the stress from the day. Your pillow and mattress are two places you discharge a ton of negative energy. I once had a client who tossed her entire mattress after getting a divorce to dispel old, trapped negative energy.

7. Exercise your olfactory system

Using essential oils in a diffuser or on your skin can help you relax and feel more balanced. So long as the oils are non-synthetic (organic), using scents is one of the quickest ways to activate the calming centers of your brain. Certain scents have been proven to calm organs such as your heart, liver, and intestinal tract. Lavender is known for its soothing properties, while the scent of sandalwood can help you get grounded.

See also 5 Essential Oils Combos That Smell Better Than Your Favorite Candles

Emotional Detox: 7 Steps to Release Toxicity and Energize Joy by Sherianna Boyle

Excerpted from Emotional Detox: 7 Steps to Release Toxicity and Energize Joy by Sherianna Boyle. Copyright © 2018 Adams Media, a division of Simon and Schuster. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

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[spookyknight]

VoltronFic: Torrent

Torrent

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Keith x Lance

Summary: Paladins red and blue find calm in the storm on a treacherous uninhabited planet.

my heartfelt thanks @skyestiel for your enthusiastic support and advice

Read on AO3

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Uotanea is loud. Not because of high winds or fauna or a bustling city. It’s hard to explain.

The high-and-low pitched whine reminds Lance of the server room back at the Garrison. He’d followed Pidge in there once. The noise drove him crazy after a while. It wasn’t particularly loud or grating. Just the inescapable droning of electric current. A constant oscillation that gets under his skin. It ripples through him, clashing with pulse and respiration; casting doubt on the body’s natural rhythm.

The reality is different from Coran’s convoluted explanation of the electromagnetic hum that inundates the planet’s atmosphere. Though, admittedly, Lance started tuning out the particulars once he discovered Hunk and Pidge would be attending an intellectually stimulating tech-engineer meeting between the Olkari and the Blade of Marmora while he and Keith were stuck on a fetch mission.

From what he does remember, the vibrations stem from ugulite, the highly reactive mineral they’ve been sent to collect. The metal element is formed underneath the planet’s crust. Lacking sophisticated mining equipment, the paladins are to access ugulite from a deposit in the Janesper Canyon—the jagged, rocky gorge they’re currently traversing.

The reactive field interferes with advanced electronics, so their Lions have to wait on the surface. Along with any useful Altean tech that would make their lives more comfortable. Just two dudes roughing it on a deadly, uninhabited alien planet.

Fun.

At least the electro-din limits the ability for conversation. Keith has a rudimentary Geiger-counter-thing that registers whatever magnetic waves the ugulite gives off. He blazes the trail based on the direction a little red arrow is pointing. Lance follows.

It’s a bit like their first adventure. Going out into the desert on Keith’s word and finding the first Lion. Only Blue was a more exciting prize than a fancy magnet. And Earth was a lot less dangerous than Uotanea. Probably.

They’ve lost sight of the surface. Rocky pillars, arches, and buttresses surround them, the terrain carved and forged in the likeness of some ancient temple. The descent into the gorge is gradual. It means more hiking than climbing, which is good. But walking is also tedious and that damn noise is incessant.

“Are we getting close?” Lance asks.

Keith doesn’t turn around, but his posture tenses. “Are you seriously asking me ‘are we there yet?’”

“I am asking,” Lance replies slowly, drawing it out, “if the uggo-lite-o-meter says we’re getting closer.”

“It’s a dial with an arrow.”

“So...no.”

“You wanna take over?” Keith holds up the instrument.

Lance waves him off. “No, no. You’re doing great. Must be your superior arrow-following skills. Good job, buddy.”

The hum starts to dissipate. Keith stops in his tracks, looking back at Lance. Right. That’s bad. It means the exposed ugulite deposit is preparing to discharge built-up electrostatic energy into the air. An electrical storm, complete with caustic rain, is imminent.

Basic rain, Coran explained, not acidic. Still corrosive. The precipitation would have a high pH dangerous to their skin and detrimental to their armor.

They’re prepared for this. At the base of a bowed pillar rock formation, the paladins unload their packs and start to make camp. Keith digs out stakes and tension rods and Lance unfolds a large sheet of plastic material. Inky black clouds gather in the sky. There’s a light breeze and a buzzing feeling in the air. Static and plunging pressure. It speeds their construction. The hum is almost gone. The resulting silence is deafening in its own way. There’s an awareness in the lack, like ears ringing after a rock concert.

Lance unrolls the groundsheet. Keith bangs stakes into the dry ground at a steep angle. They thread thin black poles through fabric channels. The sky is full on ‘Auntie Em! Auntie Em!’ dark, now. The ground rumbles. Lance’s hands start to shake.

It takes both of them to bend the tension rods and affix them in place. The tent is up. Keith sprays the rainfly with the protective coating Coran provided. A thin chemical shield promises to keep the shelter intact.

There’s an ear-splitting crackle—a quake sending lightning up from the ground.

Keith startles, eyes wide. “Get in. Hurry!”

They snatch their remaining gear and scramble into the tent.

Lance turns to zip the entrance closed. For a moment, everything is quiet except their harsh breathing. The rain begins a sporadic sprinkle, advances to a drizzle, then finally increases to a rhythmic pitter-patter.

The tent holds, showing no signs of leaking or corroding.

Keith exhales a relieved sigh. Lance looks over and he’s wearing a bashful little smile. They both chuckle, adrenaline fading into a grateful anticlimax.

They’re stuck, but they’re safe.

The tent is long and narrow, affording just enough room for two bodies to lie down with a comfortable gap between them. Fatigue sets into joints from the long hike. A respite sounds good. Lance unfastens the bulkier plates of his armor, placing them in a neat pile by his feet. Keith mirrors his movements, unburdening himself and settling down.

They lie parallel in silence, watching the tented ceiling and listening to the rain. It’s nice. Existing in the same space without squabbling. Maybe it’s something about braving the elements. In their training exercises, the paladins always did perform better against a common enemy.

Dangerous as it is, the rain is pleasant. Its cadence soothes just as the ugulite’s magnetic buzz irritates. Opposite forces. Discord and calm, red and blue, Keith and Lance. He’s getting maudlin. It’s just that the rainfall reminds him of home.

“I miss this sound so much,” Lance says.

He doesn’t mean to voice the thought out loud, but there it is. Keith hums thoughtfully. “You can play rain audio in your room.” “It's not the same.” Lance presses his hand up against the fabric to feel the percussive tap of each raindrop as it hits. “You can tell when it’s real. It feels so close.”

“You’re a pluviophile.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Lance lowers his hand and smirks, exhaling a laugh. Where Keith picked up that vocabulary gem is a mystery. They maintain soft voices; speaking without drowning out the rain, through some unspoken agreement.

“I read that it’s because it reminds you of the womb,” Lance murmurs. “Being safe inside but surrounded by the sound of water and everything. It feels like home.”

He looks over at his companion. Even in the dim light, Keith looked relaxed. His eyes are half-lidded. He, too, is entranced by the tempo of the rain and the freedom of seclusion. If they close their eyes, they can pretend they’re back on Earth. Homesick yearning seizes up in Lance’s chest. If only.

Keith reaches over and takes his hand. An act of empathy. Another bonding moment, he supposes. They connect over commonalities. Displacement, high expectations, mortal danger.

Lance feels mesmerized and sedate. The other paladin’s hand squeezing his should be a signal. But he’s so relaxed. The movement on the other side of the tent doesn’t register. Keith is rolling on his side, leaning in, and then—suddenly, it seems—Keith’s lips are on his.

Lance freezes. His brain kind of short-circuits.

Rain, quietude, a gentle kiss. Everything is soft and faded like a daydream. Like he’s just drifted off and his mind is wandering. He’s watching his dream-self, trying to shove him into action, but it’s not working. There’s a disconnect. “Shit.” Keith pulls away, lies on his back with an arm thrown over his face. “I misread that. Just—shit. Lance springs up. “Wait. Whoa, wait. Hold up.” He turns toward the red paladin. “I've been trying to get you to notice me for, like, going on three years. And just now...what the hell did I do?”

“What?”

Keith shifts his arm, peeking out one eye from under the crook of his elbow. It’s insanely endearing.

Lance makes a show of looking around the tent. “Is it the lighting? Have you been put off by the radiance of my devilish good looks?”

Keith scoffs. “What are you talking about? You’ve been fighting me ever since we met.”

“Yeah.” Lance throws his arms up as far as the tent will allow. “You’re a very frustrating person.”

“Right. You hate me.”

“No.” The blue paladin is adamant. “Dude, would we be able to form Voltron if I hated you?”

“But you don’t like me,” Keith mumbles, his voice small.

Lance sighs, his posture deflating. “I don’t know you. You don’t let anyone in.” Keith peels his arm away from his face, so at least Lance knows he’s listening. “Even at the Garrison. You were always so focused on being the best. In your own world, in some kind of zealous competition with yourself. You won’t let anyone help you.

“I wasn’t trying—I didn’t need to be the best.” Keith averts his eyes. “I never thought I was good enough.”

Lance leans down, getting in his teammate’s face, their foreheads nearly touching. He waits until Keith tears his gaze away from the wall of the tent. Even in the dark, he recognizes when their eyes connect. It sends a prickle up his spine.

“You are good enough.” He swallows to keep the schmaltzy waver out of his voice. “Better than.”

Keith’s features shift, his expression inscrutable. Something raw, intense. “You are too.”

And it breaks something inside Lance, hearing that. He gets misty-eyed and chokes a tiny sound back in his throat that he won’t call a sob. It’s everything his cadet self wanted to hear before all this started. He wishes he could reach back, tell past-Lance that someday he’ll be cowering from basic-rain on a faraway planet and Keith Kogane will finally tell him he’s worthy.

Lance lowers his head, brushing their noses together before capturing the red paladin’s lips. The contact is soft, but the spark of it jolts through him like thunder. Or it’s actual thunder. They are weathering a storm.

Keith hums, a tremor running through him. He slinks his arms around and pulls Lance closer. Fingers comb through hair. Mouths open and the kiss deepens. The air in the tent is hot and electric. The universe shrinks to the fervent slide of lips, the wandering of hands. The rain pit-a-pats on the tent.

Uotanea might be heaven.

Lance pulls back, just to get a breath of air between them. He takes in the flushed and disheveled paladin beneath him. It’s a vision he wants burned in his memory. Along with the needy sound Keith makes before kissing him again.

The drizzle peters out and the electromagnetic hum of the ugulite builds. Keith flinches away and Lance knows he hears it too.

“Quiznak,” Lance deadpans.

Keith laughs. It’s an enticing sound and Lance is helplessly charmed. The red paladin tips them over and Lance falls on his side with an oof. The stony ground is not forgiving. Their legs tangle together.

The hard knock is forgotten when Keith licks a line up his neck. Lance shudders, a traitorous whimper slipping out. Another slick glide of his paramour’s tongue, followed by suction. Desire washes over him, making his pulse race. It feels wanton and wicked and makes him seriously consider abandoning this stupid quest.

He doesn’t grasp the intention until Keith is finished, swiping his tongue over his handiwork one last time. There’ll be a mark, right beneath the blue paladin’s collar.

“This comes with us,” Keith says.

Lance nods, understanding. It would be easy to chalk this all up to the rain. They could go back to how things were before. Strained but familiar. Or they could move forward, into uncertainty. Lance votes for the latter.

He leans in, to seal the pact. And maybe to tempt his new flame into putting off their task a little longer. He doesn’t make it. There’s an incongruous clatter—this comical sproing—and the ceiling caves in.

Keith growls. “You didn’t secure the ridge pole in the grommet?”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Dammit, Lance.”

“How do you know it wasn’t your grommet?”

Keith untangles himself, flailing the fallen fabric out of his way to gather his gear. He finds the zipper and opens it. Grumbling to himself, he exits, leaving Lance alone in the collapsed tent. The electro-din is back with a vengeance.

Lance pouts. “Can’t we go back to the kissing part?”

Keith is making a racket outside, undoubtedly assessing what went wrong with their survival structure and preparing to move out. He huffs when his partner doesn’t follow.

“Help me take this down so we can get this over with,” the red paladin calls.

Lance dons his armor. Gathers his gear. Crawls out of the tent. And prays for rain.