#the damage to my psyche was significant but at least now i can heal by imagining arle being willing to throw hands for me 😌����

[shalomniscient]

sevchino req!!! wanna see protective arle to the children please,,,,,,father in action raahhhh

you and me BOTH anon 🥺🥺🥺 ......................

protective || sevchino

cw. none (?)

notes. yeah i like bullying pantalone (and not in a fun way like a bully rahu). sue me. also super self indulgent with no consistent pov dshjjdfhk

"My, my. What's a little girl like you doing in a place like this, hm?"

Estelle hugs the little bear closer to her chest. Her father had told her to stay in the office, but she was taking so long, and it was starting to get lonely...

She lifts her eyes up from the ground to look at the man crouched before her. He has long, dark hair that reminds her of her father's with how soft it looks. He has a polite smile on his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes. And his eyes—something about them made her nervous.

"I'm here with my father," she answers quietly, squeezing her toy. "I was supposed to stay in the office, but..."

The man clicks his tongue. "Tsk. Poor little thing, did your father leave you behind?"

Estelle bites her lip. Should she answer him? Father always told her not to speak with strangers, but it's been so long, and she wants to go home. She knows she'd begged her father to let her tag along, but now, all she wants to do is go home to her mother and Noé.

So she nods, looking back down at the ground. The man sighs, and rises back to his full height. He's tall, towering over her, and the way the lights backlight his form makes Estelle reflexively take a step back. He looks down at her down the bridge of his nose, the silver rim of his glasses glinting.

"Then how about I help you find her, hm?" he asks. "I think I know exactly who your father is."

Despite her apprehension, Estelle brightens. "Really?"

"Really," he nods. His white cloak parts, and he extends a gloved hand to her. But before he can take her smaller hand in his own, an arc of pure, blistering flame snakes around the girls feet, creating a protective, blazing wall. But around the girl, the fires cool, warm and comforting instead of threatening.

Footsteps echo like thunder down the hall, and the man tucks his hand back into his cloak, those dangerous eyes turning sharp, and a venomous grin creeping onto his face.

"We meet again, Knave," he sneers. Estelle turns, and standing behind her, expression twisted into a level of fury she's never seen before, is her father. A blood-red wing pulses over her left shoulder, flickering and shifting in the light. In her father's hand is a mean-looking red scythe, radiating a furious, hungry aura.

"Stay away from my daughter, Regrator," Arlecchino snarls, practically vibrating with rage. She keeps her eyes trained on the other Harbinger as she kneels down, and Estelle runs into her waiting arm. Pantalone watches it all with a deceptively placid smile.

"You know," he hums, "she has her eyes."

Arlecchino glares at him with enough fury to kill a normal man. But as much as she loathes the waste of breath before her, he is still a Harbinger, and Harbingers have always been far from normal.

"Do not speak of my wife," she says lowly, dangerously, cradling Estelle against her chest. Estelle tucks her head beneath her father's chin, one small hand winding tight in her father's jacket and the other clutching her bear plushie. The little thing's fur is slightly singed. Then, her father's gaze shifts from the man and to her, and her eyes soften. "Are you alright, starshine?"

Estelle nods, snuggling closer against her father's warmth. Arlecchino presses a soft kiss to her forehead, then turns back to Pantalone. She dispels her scythe, but it does not make her any less deadly. She considers, briefly, ripping the man before her to shreds; but Estelle takes priority, and she'd hate for her daughter to have to witness such violence, so she turns on her heel and walks away instead.

She will ensure the Regrator understands that her family is off limits in other ways.

[thelucyverse]

Part 1

Autumn and winter of 1980 were so busy for me, I barely had a moment of time to breathe. I heard that the order had destroyed several of Voldemorts' Horcruxes without him noticing- the diadem, the locket and the ring (the latter, sadly, without it destroying Dumbledore's hand and future)- and I was desperate to get my hands on one of the items myself to test several theories regarding soul-pieces, but Voldemort had yet to pass the diary to Lucius or the Cup to Bella, at least as far as I was aware. Did he only plan to part with them before moving in to kill the Potter boy, his predicted mortal enemy? Would he even part with them at all, if such an opportunity didn't come to pass?

I did more theoretical research on the topic while also wondering about the actual Horcruxes. Were they significant objects like the ones he used for his own? Objects that somehow showed his followers' status? Did that mean specific items or something like pebbles to show his superiority to them? Or, if the instances he created (or forced the respective followers to create?) the Horcrux were unplanned- and I was quite certain that he hadn't planned it with Bella, he had done it when she was asking about forming a union with me, which must have come as a sincere surprise to him- did he just use some random object in the room, or did he keep something prepared around?

So many questions, no way to answer them.

Instead, I focused on the theory of the research, on whether I would need the objects to bring both soul parts back together or just the person, or just the horcrux, and whether the soul piece within a person actually died if the person was killed or just became diacorporeal... I started to believe (still mere theory, of course) that while it might make it easier, I didn't necessary need the Horcrux if I managed to make the person want to fix their own soul (but I didn't know whether /regret/ would work as a stimulus if the person had never actually /decided/ to make the Horcrux in the first place), that usually someone would die and leave only the Horcrux part of the soul behind as that one can't be pulled from its object- unless the Horcrux partage was bigger than the killed part, which would make the pull stronger towards the Horcrux(es), keeping the last part on the mortal plane. Was that the reason why Voldemort had made so many Horcruxes, was he actually that clever, did he calculate the risk- or did he not understand souls at all and just thought the more the merrier?

Whenever I am alone with Bella, I try to talk to her, really connect to her again, and I believe that this connection to normalcy as well as any positive emotions I can make her feel seem to have a positive effect on at the very least her psyche if not also on her damaged soul.

A damaged soul would cloud someone's mind, making them unable or at the very least less able to feel things the way they used to, making them detached from humanity, less afraid to take human life, not hurt when killing or torturing others... Of course, Voldemort was already deranged before he made any Horcruxes, so I had no idea how much his influences him if at all... And I hadn't known Bella all that closely before she had had her soul split in two, so I couldn't really tell what was her and what was the Horcrux's influence, either. It disturbed me, to know that I didn't truly know the woman I was all but married to for over two years now at all.

In March of 1981, Voldemort handed Bellatrix Hufflepuff's Cup, to place in her vault in Gringotts and keep save there. Had I not been around, had Bellatrix been completely mad from her split soul, she would have done so without question. As it is, however, she went to Gringotts with the cup, placed it into her vault, left, went back immediately, took the cup, brought it to me and asked to be obliviated of all that happened after she first left the bank.

I hated having to do so to her, but I had also never been so proud.

Now, I have the cup, and I don't quite know what to do with it. While I can feel the evil ooze off of it, I can't tell it's shape or consistency, how it would react to tests. I have written Melodenia again with several inquiries about soul magic and how to feel, to /see/ it the way natural aura seers can. While I am afraid that she might have already started to question how theoretic the nature of my inquiries is, I hope she knows that I am genuinely trying to do good, I hope she understands some of my position here, even if I have never told her my full story, not even in enchanted parchment or the few times we have chatted via fireplace.

In May, I receive an invitation to a research Congress by MACUSA, with personal recommendation from one Professor and Master of magical theory, Melodenia of Ilvermorny- and without a name written on it, it is for myself to fill out. She must have known that I was operating under an alias, which of course won't work on such an official function. I decide almost immediately to attend, no matter the consequences: While I cannot wait to talk to her in person, away from prying eyes, I hate the attention it gains me from the Dark Lord and his followers. He knew, of course, that I had an interest in magical theory, but had thought it a little hobby of a Deatheater's wife. Now, however... I am being informed that after that Congress, which I am not to attend alone, I am to share all my findings with him, and use my skills to develop spells suitable for war if I haven't already done so.

I don't know how he managed, but I am accompanied to the States by Severus Snape. Professor Snape, now- twenty-one years old, a double spy for the two most powerful wizards currently alive in Britain, a teacher barely respected by the students in his own house and loathed by everyone else, trying to cling to what authority he has as a professor by being as strict as he possibly can. He is not a pleasant man to be around, still constantly afraid for the life of his friend Lily, whom he has barely seen in the past years. I don't know whether he loves her as a friend or is /in/ love with her, and I can't bring myself to care.

On our way- after making sure that there are no tracking- or monitoring spells by either of our masters left on us or our luggage- we share news on Deatheater and Order business before comparing our research in magical theory and spell-crafting, which is Severus' forte in theoretical magic. I don't know how I had forgotten about it so far- he is always known as a potions master, but I should have remembered all the spells he had been mentioned to have created in the books. He tells me of several dangerous spells, ones newly created by him as well as old ones that had simply come to be forgotten, that the Dark Lord does not yet know of and that the Order already knows the counters for. If Voldemort is going to ask for results of my work, I will be able to deliver. I do not tell Snape about my research in soul magic, not trusting him not to immediately tell Dumbledore, no matter how bad the old man has treated him in the past.

Melodenia is waiting for us at the portkey point. When I indicate to Severus that I would like to be left alone with her, he smirks nastily. "I won't tell anyone" he snarls before disappearing into the crowd with his cloak billowing behind him. I suppose he must think that I cannot stand being with a deatheater and have an affair with Melodenia instead. A laughable idea, even more so considering that Melodenia only seems to be interested in people insofar that they can help her research or carry it on into a new generation. Still- she is a friend, the closest one I have.

"Are you well, my old friend?" Melodenia asks. I wonder if she can see that I am older than I look through the soul-magic, and she laughs when I ask. "I didn't even need to look at that" she says. "but- yes. Now, what /is/ going on on the British Isles that has you in such disarray?" sometimes, she sounds more Properly British than I do- I know English isn't her first language, so I suppose it makes sense that she wouldn't have to have an American accent. Now, what to tell her? I decide to, for once, trust somebody, and go with the truth- the entire truth.

After my speech, Melodenia is quiet for a long moment before pulling me into a hug. "I cannot help you with the problem of your traveling" she explains first. "I can't tell whether you are from a different world or from a different time- although there us something about your aura that does say you do not belong /here/, or have not always belonged here. I can try to find texts on your kind of travelling, but I do not expect to find much, and I do not know how much I could find out from your person when you aren't already travelling away- in which case I would not want to come too near, I need to stay here with my students. Yes, I believe you could take someone with you on your travels" she answers my unasked question. "If you do so- please make sure to ask whether the person wants to leave their universe, and that they understand all that it entails." I nod. Then, Melodenia moves on to the topics current more urgent to me: soul magic, and how to break it. "Fix it, you mean- souls shouldn't be broken."

Over the course of the long weekend, whenever we don't absolutely have to attend a seminar, speech or evening social event, Melodenia teaches me how to manually soul-see, lay and break connections in soul magic (which- hella painful when tested on yourself, which is why we aren't doing it on anyone else), the theory and praxis of soul-healing- "You should try to influence her now even if you do not plan to already bring the soul pieces back together," she says about Bellatrix. "While from what you told me, she does not seem to be in danger of losing connection to the soul-piece entirely, there are other dangers: insanity, effects on the mind that, once completed and left alone for too long, get irreversible even if the soul pieces find back to one another. You must influence her with positivity- any positive emotions, as well as anything reminding her of life prior to the break, is healing for the soul." -, as well as other things she believes might be useful for me in the future, including how to apparate to locations you haven't been to yet: "In 'normal' apparition, the rule is to know exactly where you are going and only focus on this one location, with just slightly emphasis on getting your entire body there, as really, when you only want to go to one place, it automatically takes your entire body there, without splinching. When transporting yourself to an entirely new location or one you can't quite visualize anymore, apparition is more vague location-wise- you might not end up exactly where you want to go, but when you keep your focus on your entire body and to move it to a place, instead of focusing on the place to move to, you will end up somewhere without splinching. It is good to get out of situations when you don't have the power to apparate far and don't know any points in the area, you could just think of a generic secluded ally, a roof, a beach, a field, and end up in any such location you have the power to reach. When you have greater power, of course, you have to make sure not to end up in an entirely different continent."

On Monday, I leave with a newfound understanding of magical theory. I never realised how logical magic really is, when you only look deep enough. There are still things that seem strange to me, but I no longer think that it defies the laws of physics- it merely works with it in ways I hadn't known about. About soul magic, Melodenia ends with the words: "And be careful whom you tell about this. Few people are well-versed in soul magic, and even fewer for the right reasons. Say, are you familiar with the non-magical atom bomb? Yes? It is based on a technology and research completely unrelated to such destruction, but that is still what it was used for. You cannot blame everyone in that field of research for the connection, but that is the stigma they are going to face. It is similar when it comes to soul-magic. It can be used in healing ways, to help with trauma or to connect two people in love. But the only soul-magic many old wizarding families have heard of are dementors, horcruxes and soul-crushers, if they know about soul-magic at all. Be careful- not just regarding what they might do with it, but what they might believe you want to do with it, and what they would do to you to stop you."

When I leave for the portkey point with Snape, once again, as my escort in public, and turn around to wave at Melodenia, I am torn: I'm am sad to leave my friend and our research behind- yet I cannot wait to hold Bellatrix in my arms again.

Part 3

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [7/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): Apologies for the wait. As you may know I had an adventure with my dropbox wherein I backed up all my files because I had to restore my laptop, and all of the files ended up mixed up in the wrong folders and I've been tracking down files one by one for the past week. I hate technology. I mean, I guess I should be happy the files didn't get deleted, but it's still a pain in the ass to re-organize manually.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the business card in his hand long after Jason disappears, thumbing over the false name and phone number with a reverence once reserved for clandestinely captured photographs.

Victor Shelley, Paranormal Investigator.

He wonders if Jason was trying to be funny choosing that name. Given what Tim’s heard about him in the few instances where Dick or Alfred talk about him, and what he saw for himself in the past, he thinks it’s entirely likely.

God, Dick and Alfred.

He knows they’re going to be just as blindsided about this as Bruce when they find out.

If they find out.

Guilt flickers through him now at the promise he made to Jason.

Why the hell would he promise a man he doesn’t really know—a man he’s spent a grand total of an hour and twenty-three minutes in conversation with—that he won’t let his adopted father knows he’s not dead.

That he hasn’t been dead for years.

That he’s in Gotham right now.

Tim wishes he could say it was one hundred percent his shock at Jason being alive, but that would be lying to himself. His mind flashes back to Jason’s face, his slow smirk and the smooth, deep voice, and he swears, letting his head fall against the counter.

Apparently, I promised him because he’s pretty.

It’s a new feeling for Tim. He’s never been easily swayed by looks, but something about Jason is attractive enough to put him off-guard, or at least loosen his lips more than normal.

I thought I was over this…

“I know that face.”

Tim startles and glances up at the bartender—Trista—who he had forgotten was there. He’d forgotten he was sitting in a bar, to be honest.

“Judging by the ass on that man, I can guess what it’s about,” she continues in a wry tone. Then she’s sliding a shot of amber liquid toward him. “Here. To steady your nerves.”

Tim stares at the alcohol in numb confusion.

“That’s on the house, but only because he talked more with you tonight than I’ve seen him do with anyone since he got here,” she goes on. “We’ll both pretend I don’t know you’re underage.”

Tim is too flustered by everything she’s just said to do anything other than accept the shot under her knowing gaze. Then, he beats a hasty retreat from the bar as fast as humanly possible without it looking like he’s running away.

Distracted, he returns to his apartment in the Theater District, trying to parse the events of the night from an objective viewpoint. He’s not entirely sure he didn’t dream it all up, considering whatever that incubus did to him, and so he runs tox-screens on his blood and gives himself a full physical just to make sure.

Other than spikes in several hormone levels—adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin—his results are normal. Nothing that would really alter his perceptions of reality, the way Scarecrow or Poison Ivy’s concoctions tend to do.

That confirmed, he should be able to leave the matter alone for now. There are more pressing matters to deal with—Dante’s continued disappearance being one of them.

But thoughts of Jason continue to assault Tim’s thoughts.

Something has been bothering him since his conversation with Jason, something he wondered before but couldn’t ask because Jason got skittish and made a run for it

How the hell did Constantine cross paths with Jason anyway?

Aside from his inexplicable presence in Gotham at some point in the past five years without attracting the attention of Batman, what would interest him in a teenaged John Doe with no identity or memory?

Sliding into the chair in front of the computer in the Nest, Tim calls up the autopsy report, even though he doesn’t really need to see it. He memorized it years ago. Still, if he’s going to investigate this, he needs concrete facts, not just his memory.

It’s not difficult to create a timeline of events, between Jason’s official death and now. Or to search a list of John Does at various hospitals in Gotham within the last five to ten years, whose condition upon admittance matches the description of Jason’s injuries at death.

He finds the information he’s looking for within twenty minutes.

As it turns out, things didn’t happen quite as neatly or quickly as Jason’s story suggested. His stay at Gotham General was a lot longer than he let on, and Tim’s stomach twists as he reads the medical reports.

Various physicians left their comments on the patient, a young man of about fifteen or sixteen, severely beaten and malnourished, picked up several miles from the hospital.

The file includes a mugshot of a heavily bandaged youth, head shaved from what records indicate were several procedures to repair brain bleeds, skull, and facial fractures. Bruises and swelling make his features almost unrecognizable, except to someone who has memorized pictures of that face since he was ten years old. Someone who knows the cut of that jaw and the color of those eyes, however bleary and vacant they are as they stare into the camera.

“God, Jason…”

Tim reads over the doctors’ notes that span the course of a year, cataloging how well the boy is healing considering the heavy damage he sustained, and how he would be considered a miracle patient but for the fact whatever happened to him caused significant brain damage.

Clear psychological damage, hearing voices, incapable of speech, easily upset.

On several occasions, the boy became unaccountably terrified, screaming and yelling and trying to claw out his own eyes. Sometimes it even became violent, and in his struggles, he put three doctors, a nurse and two orderlies in the emergency room.

I’m surprised it was only that many people. Considering his training, he could have done a lot more damage.

Eventually, he always had to be drugged and restrained.

Demonic possession, maybe?

It’s not the first thing Tim would think of, but if Constantine’s involved in all this, it would make sense. And coming back from the dead like Jason says he did, it had to have side effects.

Except, there’s no mention of anything superhuman or beyond the realm of possibility regarding Jason’s strength. Surely the doctors would have made note of anything beyond the abilities of a normal, scared teenager—especially in Gotham, where strange behavior was a sad norm.

No mention of anything resembling supernatural or metahuman abilities anywhere here.

Jason was eventually placed permanently in the psych ward and likely would have stayed there for the rest of his days, except the hospital’s budget was cut in his eighth month there. Space issues required moving patients to other hospitals, and—

“Oh, no. No-no-no, tell me they didn’t,” Tim murmurs, heart sinking as he scrolls down the page of the report, knowing exactly what he’s going to find.

They sent him to Arkham.

If Tim was horrified before by the notion of Jason’s resurrection and his condition afterward, it’s nothing to how sick he feels to learn that his predecessor was sent to the cesspool that is Arkham Asylum.

He needs to turn away from his computer for a few seconds and breathe, close his eyes and concentrate on not hearing the lilting, singsong voice and tinny voice in his head.

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Ever since his kidnapping, it’s the one place in Gotham Tim won’t venture—he’s not sure what would happen if he did. Whether he’d suffer a crippling attack of flashbacks, or march into the high security ward and slit the Joker’s throat with one of his birdarangs.

If Bruce realized Tim honestly can’t decide which would be the worse outcome, he knows he’d be benched for the rest of his life. He might not be Robin anymore, but the Family would find a way.

It’s fear of that more than anything else that helps him get a handle on his panic, tethers him back to reality better than anything else. Tim takes another series of deep, grounding breaths, before he feels confident enough to be able to get back to his research into Jason.

At least they didn’t put him anywhere near the Joker, it seems, he notices as he goes through the room assignments and Arkham floorplans. That’s about the only good thing about it, though.

Jason’s ward was for the non-communitive patients, the ones the experts considered untreatable. The ones that get forgotten about in the mayhem of the monthly outbreaks and pandemonium.

Tim’s stomach clenches tight again as he remembers incidents and dates over the years where Batman visited inmates at Arkham to interrogate them on the latest escapes or crimes happening in the city, or just to test the security there. Based on the location of Jason’s cell and Batman’s usual route, there are times when the two were only a floor apart

Tim’s heart aches for them both.

They were so close to each other! If only they’d known—!

And just as suddenly as Jason was transferred to Arkham, all records of him vanish. There’s no information about patient transfers or deaths or releases; instead, like many a nameless patient to be lost to the asylum over the years, he just vanishes.

People don’t just vanish. And in this case, I know he didn’t.

Tim goes on to cross-reference the potential dates of Jason’s disappearance with any visitors to the asylum. It doesn’t take much to identify the only visitor to the asylum for a span of weeks as a certain Chandler Ravenscar—names which another quick search link to aliases used by John Constantine in the past.

That brings Tim to a whole other avenue of research, refocusing him investigation on Constantine himself and his movements over the past years. He tends to keep to the UK, but every now and again travels to various mystical hotspots around the world.

There’s a backlog of security footage to weed through, occultist forums discussing the man and his exploits. Half of what’s written about him online is clearly conspiracy theories, a quarter of it related to some punk rock band called Mucous Membrane and something to do with the Reagan assassination. Those who have actually worked with him either seem too terrified or pissed off to say much about him.

Even harder is finding a video of the man; cameras and other surveillance devices appear to stop working around him. It’s even more of a challenge to catch a glimpse of the teenaged assistant that starts being mentioned several months after Jason’s disappearance from Arkham.

A chance freeze-frame from an airport in Beijing, however, is all Tim needs to confirm it’s Jason.

It’s hours later when Tim sits back, exhausted but now having at least a general timeline of what happened.

One thing is for damn sure—I can’t take this to Bruce.

The story is too painful, too unbelievable. If it doesn’t break him all over, it will have him lashing out at Tim for making up stories about a touchy subject. There’s enough tension between them both right now that he’s likely to question anything suspect Tim brings to him.

Or he would insist it was a trick, that someone had faked all of this. He wouldn’t take Tim’s word for it, would investigate himself, prepare himself for an interrogation when what Jason needs is to have a face to face with his adopted father and mentor.

And Jason’s story still has too many holes in it for Tim to tell it, begging more questions than answers.

Like why Constantine took you from Arkham in the first place. And also…there’s one other thing that doesn’t make sense.

Well, a lot of things don’t make sense, but this stands out.

Tim goes back to the hospital records, scanning for the section where he remembers reading the information.

John Doe’s injuries in the medical files are all consistent with those in Jason’s autopsy, with every scar and broken bone accounted for and described.

Except for an autopsy scar.

That would have been the first thing medical professionals remarked upon when Jason was admitted, but it’s not mentioned anywhere. Which must mean that somehow, Jason no longer has it.

So why did that heal and nothing else did? Could it have something to do with what brought him back?

There’s a sudden dull, clunk in the background and the slide of elevator doors, and Tim glances up to watch Stephanie Brown stride into his base of operations.

“I was on the way out and Babs sent me to check on you,” she tells him. “Apparently someone missed work today without calling in and isn’t answering their phone.”

Tim startles at that, glances at the clock in the corner of his screen and swears when he realizes she’s right. He was supposed to be at Wayne Enterprises an hour ago. When he glances at his cellphone, he sees twelve text messages and three missed calls from Lucius, Dick and Bruce.

“I didn’t even notice,” he groans. He was so caught up in finding out more about Jason that he lost track of time. He quickly taps out a group message reassuring them he’s fine and will be in soon.

“At least being flaky is characteristic of billionaire teenagers,” Steph says as she wanders over.

Tim quickly minimizes his search and swivels around in his seat to face her. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Given the way she spends her nights, Steph made a point of having all of her classes in the afternoon. She’s possibly less of a morning person than Tim is, to the point where even coffee doesn’t make her a little more human.

“Blame my new roommate,” she grumbles, and that earns a surprised look because it’s the first time he’s heard of this. “Right, I didn’t tell you, did I? So, a couple of weeks ago this cat shows up on the fire-escape outside my window. And I didn’t mean to feed it, but it looked so sad and pathetic and I had to, so now it won’t leave me alone. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have time to be a pet owner.”

“Cat’s don’t actually take that much care.”

“That’s what they want you to think. And then one cat becomes two, and two becomes three and the next thing I know, I’m going to be the crazy cat lady on the block,” Steph complains. “And not to cool, sexy, Selina kind of cat lady but the sad, single shut-in.”

“You could never be a shut-in. No four walls can keep your raw joie de vivre inside,” Tim says in a flat tone.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She frowns in confusion. “Are we in an on-again or an off-again right now? I forget.”

Tim remembers Jason’s cocky grin and muscular thighs and his mouth goes dry. “Off. Definitely off.”

Steph’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “That was weirdly assertive. Am I sensing a pretty girl behind that sentiment? Do I need to give a shovel talk?” Something occurs to her and she scowls. “It’s not that Lynx chick, is it? Trust me when I say that would be a bad idea.”

“There’s no girl,” Tim mumbles. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” she allows, slow and still somewhat dubious. “But you’d tell me, right? If you were seeing someone? Only so I don’t go crossing lines or causing jealous rage or something.”

“There’s nothing going on, yes I would tell you, can we please move on?” Tim huffs. “Tell me about your cat.”

“He’s not my cat.”

“You fed him, he’s your cat.”

“Stop changing the subject. You’re being evasive—there so is a girl.”

“There’s no girl!” Tim groans, half tempted to tug at his hair. “Who could look at another woman after being with you?”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insinuation I was so horrible that I turned you off women for good,” Steph says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. A beat later, she tilts her head to one side as if something has occurred to her. “Wait. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a guy. This someone’s a guy. You know you can tell me, right? That would totally be okay—would actually explain a lot, actually—you know, you liking guys—”

“One guy does not equate guys.”

“Oh my god! There is! There’s a guy!” Steph squeals. “Who is it? It’s that friend of yours, that went missing, isn’t it? Dante something? That’s why you’ve been so obsessed with finding him!”

“I’m determined to find him because he’s my friend,” Tim counters, a bit irritated. “The same way I’d be determined to find Ives or Bernard or anyone I cared about. And I’d be doing that right now if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

Two someones, but she doesn’t need to know about Jason’s role in it.

“And I’d believe that if you weren’t looking at me like you wanted to jump out of your skin. There’s something going on here, Ex-Boy Wonder.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Lies!”

“For something to be going on, you have to actually spend more than an hour with someone. You have to have known them for more than an hour.”

“Not if you have chemistry,” Steph points out. “Sometimes, it’s just like. Bang.” She grins. “And then you have to bang.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?” Steph asks with concern that’s only half teasing. “The gay-sex safe sex talk? Because to be honest, I don’t think I’d be able to do it with a straight face.”

“Steph, that was awful. As a former Robin, you should be ashamed.”

“And as a former Robin, you should be better at lying. So, spill. What’s going on?”

Tim studies her, chewing on his tongue; he knows she won’t let it go unless he gives her something. “Okay. Fine.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

“Not that. This is…something else,” he says. “Sort of.”

“Okay?”

“What would you do if…say you found out something really important to a person you care about. But you promised someone else you wouldn’t tell anyone about that something because of…reasons. Personal reasons.”

Steph crosses her arms. “Is this about me?”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Then it’s about Mystery Boy.”

“It’s not about—” Tim gives up, and then sighs, because it’s just easier to give her that one. “Fine. It’s Mystery Boy. He asked me not to say something that’s really important. I figure it’s because he wants to say himself in his own time. Except. Except it’s a huge thing.”

“Starbucks discontinuing pumpkin spice lattes’ huge, or ‘Hush trying to destroy B’ huge?”

“Closer to the second. Not dangerous like that,” he adds quickly when he sees her face. “It’s just…serious stuff that could hurt if it’s not handled the right way. Or if certain parties found out later and thought they were having stuff kept from them.”

“Well, now I’m curious…”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I know that. I’m just saying.” Steph sticks out her tongue at him, but then becomes contemplative. “I guess I’d keep my mouth shut. Or try to, at least. Stuff like that always tends to come out eventually. But if you’re worried it could hurt someone, maybe you can convince Mystery Boy it’s in his best interest to tell someone.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go over too well.”   

“Well, whatever you do, don’t get into your micromanaging, control-freak headspace,” she tells him. “That’s one of the things that torpedoed you and me, and if you want things to work out with this guy, you should respect his wishes.”

“I never said anything about wanting anything to work out with anyone,” Tim protests. “I just met the guy.”

“And somehow he got you to promise not to tell something that’s apparently really important. Which means you already value him somehow, and that only happens to you when you really like someone. Also, you might be able to straight-up bluff Batman or Ra’s al Ghul, but I know how you look when you like someone and don’t want anyone to know it.” There’s a beeping noise and Steph digs out her cellphone. “And with those pearls of wisdom, I have to get going. My mom found the cat and she’s having a conniption.”

She turns to leave, pauses once she enters the elevator and turns back around, jabbing a finger at him.

“Shower, eat, go to work, stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Tim bristles. “Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, you did not just go there,” she growls as the elevator doors close and Tim grins until she’s gone.

He knows that Steph’s right, to a certain extent. This whole Jason thing isn’t his business—he was only ever an outside observer, a legacy after the fact. And even if it was his business, it’s not his predecessor’s sensibilities he should be protecting.

Ill-advised crush aside, he doesn’t have any connection loyalty to Jason Todd. He does owe Bruce—he should be going straight to him about this.

Except…

Except, Tim really doesn’t want to be added to the list of people who betrayed Jason’s trust. Especially given how fragile it is given their short acquaintance.

Tim groans and leans back against his chair, wishing for an easy solution. He’s usually able to figure out what to do, even when it comes down to the hard choices.

“Stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Steph’s right.

He’ll do as Jason asked.

Or, at least he’ll give it a week.

If he hasn't figured out any other way to deal with the situation, he'll go to Bruce.

In the meantime—he has an investigation to get back to.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[ultra-kek]

I’ve not posted basically anything since the nsfw ban (even though it didn’t affect me lol) so here’s the most recent art of an OC that’s part of a setting I’m going to work on. Originally, I was going to post about the setting in the final version with color and a background, but I might as well do it now considering how busy I’ve been. I’ll put all of the info under the Keep Reading thing to save room but I would really like to see people’s reaction to it.

The character pictured is Pascha (nb he/they) is a rabbit in a (currently unnamed) setting I’ve been working on.

The setting is essentially a post-medieval society of furry peoples where technology has developed alongside magic, so all towns have open magic use and magic items, instead of magic being dedicated to secretive mages and rare items like in most fantasy settings. Items like Potions of Healing would see widespread use as part of the equivalent to first-aid kits, and Bags of Holding would be custom made by tailors for particular uses, for example.

The primary source of magic in the setting is Abilities (name pending, i’m taking suggestions for everything lol), unique abilities that manifest out of the spirit, personality, and essentially consciousness of sentient beings, as in the furry peoples that populate the world. Everyone develops an Ability, whether it be in early childhood or only awakening to it in early adulthood. Each Ability has its own unique rules, powers, and weaknesses stemming from the prior two, kind of like Jojo stands if everyone in the world had them and they didn’t have punch ghosts with them. Everyone’s Ability is unique and is directly tied to the user’s consciousness (i.e. their own being, soul, etc.), and an Ability cannot be removed from someone, at least not without dealing significant damage to their psyche.

Abilities usually emerge out of the desires of their user, even if their utility may seem obscure. A blacksmith may develop an Ability to just outright mold metal like clay, or a thief could get an Ability that allows them to merge into and move through shadows. Everyone’s Ability isn’t set in stone; just as people’s personality’s change and develop, their Abilities can be Developed further into specific uses, usually either making the Ability more practical for general utility or specialized to increase it’s power in specific situations. For example, someone could start out with the ability to just create resistant electrical tape, but eventually develop the ability to create enough tape at a time to create a protective barrier out of it to resist elemental attacks. Theoretically, an Ability can be developed infinitely and reach a point that it no longer resembles its original form, although usually Abilities keep some semblance of their first form. Abilities can have names from various (Out Of Canon) sources, like songs, movies, concepts, etc. I haven’t really thought of having a consistent naming convention.

The other forms of magic in the setting are more “traditional” practices that act more akin to sciences. All non-Ability magic is based on principles that act as magical rules of nature, and will usually appear in the form of things like Alchemy, or Ki-based Martial Arts. These forms of magic are universally usable by all sentient beings, and some may develop Abilities that specifically enhance their skill in one of these particular fields of “magic.” These systems all rely on the understanding of themselves, and seem to draw energy from the collective understanding of them by conscious beings, just as Abilities emerge from single consciousnesses.

Outside of this, there are also Apparitions (pending but this one is most likely the name I’ll be going with), mysterious beings that emerge from the same energies that bring about Abilities, but on a larger scale. Apparitions are cryptid-like creatures that usually have unique powers and can be helpful, harmful, or just neutral. Apparitions are not alive in the same way people or animals are, instead acting based on the consciousness of people around them (allowing some to appear to have the illusion of sentience). Apparitions can also end up “merged” with actual animal or plant life, creating actual living things that would be best described as actual cryptids, with magic abilities and animal-like minds.

The majority of towns are made up of multiple Guilds, that are essentially free associations/trade unions of specific crafts and stuff (like Blacksmiths, Artists, etc) or any other sort of common goal. Guild members just kinda come and go depending on whether they get anything from being in it. Guilds will trade and interact with other Guilds, using either normal trading of different goods, going off of a gift economy system, or using some sort of currency (usually called Guilders) as part of an exchange. Every trade usually makes extensive use of general magic, as while unique Abilities can be good for a specific craft you can’t rely on people going into things like tailoring to all have a similar Ability. Items that would otherwise be rare relics are produced commonly. For example, there are various versions of “hookshots/grappling hooks,” including just a crossbow made to launch grappling hooks, a magic-powered compressed air hook launcher with reel, and a more advanced automatically reeling hookshot that requires a special force-resisting magic harness and education on how to use it to actually gain total access to one. I feel like this kind of “magic” isn’t really explored very often, which is what I wish to do with this setting.

I made this setting before Pascha but I feel like my idea for the character is better than the plot that originally brought me to make the setting (which was just me thinking of how I would do a sentai/power rangers-type series lol). Pascha is found in the middle of a forest by a deer (male he/him, name pending, but I currently want to say Rudy) who finds them unconscious inside of a strange egg-plant-thing that opens when Rudy approaches. Pascha wakes up with no memories other than the ability to speak, walk, etc. but has the mysterious and miraculous Ability (haven’t decided on the name yet) to bestow Life Energy into objects and transform them into new lifeforms. The entire plot would be Pascha and Rudy traveling to figure out more about Pascha’s past, while also avoiding sinister groups that mysteriously want to kill/capture Pascha. The story would also focus on the development of the relationship between Pascha and Rudy, and would span an entire year, between the spring equinoxes. Outside of this story, I still plan on using this setting for general OC making, perhaps even going through various epochs and decades of the universe.

[clearingclutter714-blog]

Infidelity

If you've ever been cheated on, you may understand what I mean when I say I lost my identity. The worst thing we do to ourselves as women is to find out WHO SHE IS. We are relentless in the investigation but trust and believe one of us (me or my crew) will know everything about her before the kids come home from school.

And that's where it begins. The moment we see her it doesn't matter what anyone else says, your brain tells you she is somehow better. Why? Because he choose her over you. You start pulling her apart and dissecting why he liked her, what he liked about her, what she has you don't. For me, they, and yes I say they because there were several, looked nothing like me. Which was worse for my psyche, if we at least physically had similarities I would've understood a bit more. In my head I convinced myself I was so hideous that he wanted anyone far different than what I resembled.

The next down fall was now stalking their entire life on any social media platform I could uncover. Picture after picture, videos, what she wears, how she talks, if there's any evidence of them together, how do they act with each other, does he look happier than with me? It is endless and brutal.

The final straw in losing my identity was when I allowed her to be a part of my everyday life. I found ways I could dress like her, because that's what he liked right? I would do my hair and make-up similarly. I would try to do the same things she did, go on the same dates they did that I saw in the pictures and videos. It sounds absolutely insane, but in my head I was so desperate for his approval that I felt the only way for him to want me was to be her.

It didn't work.

I lost myself for him and he left anyway.

It took two years to reverse that trauma and to be transparent, it still triggers me sometimes. But I am not Crystal of 2003 anymore, shit I'm not even Crystal circa 2018 anymore. The Crystal I am today is so much more aware and knows how to heal herself.

Below is one of the many pieces I wrote about my journey. This one in particular was about the most significant of the woman I lost myself to.

With love

-C

Johanna

I don’t look at myself anymore, can’t bear to see the reflection of her looking back at me

I’m not good enough, my body to big and tough for his arms to find comfort in

I’m not soft enough, my skin stretched and rough for his hands to find pleasure in

I’m not delicate enough, my lines to deep and tufted for his fingertips to find beauty in

I don’t want to see her anymore; no change will dismember what I see instead of what is

I’m damaged, his words no matter how they caress, can never make me whole again

She can’t be unseen, so I try to just stop looking, over and over I compare, I pull apart,

torture, agonize, I’ll never be her kind of perfect

I want to shed this skin, burn these fingerprints, morph into the frozen pictures I stalk daily of her identity

Be her, so I can feel like the old me

Poem from "Organization of Thoughts" by Crystal Torres on Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1678473790/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_Q85K75MK6MJM10

[pujameditationadvice]

Recuperating Meditations and Exercises

A large portion of us need recuperating of some sort. We are altogether tormented by our own negative musings, by sickness and damage, at any rate every now and then. Regardless of whether you officially ruminate or not, there are basic recuperating contemplations and mending practices you can without much of a stretch do - that can have amazing outcomes. As a volunteer for the Distant Healing Network, I regularly recommend simple activities or basic recuperating contemplations that can bring a full and enduring mending. Regularly we need to rehash the reflections and the recuperating is progressive - yet not generally. At times it is prompt.

Straightforward Affirmations and Visualizations

Our contemplations, our thoughts and sentiments about ourselves and our general surroundings - will show. In this way, one of the primary issues we face - particularly on the off chance that we have had a long haul sickness or damage - is getting caught in the idea that we are debilitated or harmed. This idea that we are harmed or sick can keep us wiped out or harmed, or can cause new disease and damage.

Now and then these negative considerations about ourselves are not in any case cognizant in us - fundamentally we have quite recently after some time become used to being wiped out or harmed. To antitoxin these negative considerations, cognizant or not, we state certifications, for example we put positive considerations in their place. In the event that you have polished this strategy before, you may find that you need just to state your confirmation a couple of times to reestablish harmony and wellbeing. Initially, be that as it may, you may need to state them ordinarily every day, and over a significant stretch of time.

It is essential to keep your assertion short and straightforward, uncomplicated. In the event that the issue is passionate, pick an attestation of the contrary positive feeling. For example, on the off chance that you experience the ill effects of melancholy, your assertion could be, "Bliss, happiness, euphoria". In the event that you are inclined to outrage or dread or anxiety, you could state, "Harmony, harmony, harmony". Or on the other hand, "Quiet, quiet, quiet." Or, "I am the spirit". Or on the other hand, "I am (a being of) Radiant Light". You will know whether you have picked the right expression to state - in light of the fact that you will locate the quiet or harmony or euphoria you have been looking for.

In the event that the issue is a physical one, the cure is comparable: "I am totally solid and upbeat", or, "I am totally mended" - and afterward picture it. See yourself filled and encompassed with the Divine Light, completely mended, solid and cheerful. Attempt to likewise feel it, what it felt like to be completely solid and glad, or potentially unharmed. I simply did this activity for a moment or two prior today - and as opposed to being level on my back with influenza, I am currently at the PC joyfully composing this Journal section. What we people call "marvels" - frequently are only a basic change in our reasoning.

Basic Prayers

Continuously request a total and enduring mending, and in that solicitation deep down include "On the off chance that it is Thy Will". What's more, consistently state "Thank you", regardless of whether you are completely recuperated at this point - or not. Supernatural occurrences once in a while occur on the off chance that you hold up until after a wonder happens to state, "Much obliged". Keep your petitions basic, they don't need to be intricate. You don't need to list everything that distresses you. Simply request a total and enduring mending, and afterward state, "Much obliged." It is frequently a smart thought to offer something consequently, some great deed or petitions - however this isn't generally essential. At the point when we put our full trust in God, our supplications are constantly replied - in manners that are best for our very own spirit and the spirits of others.

At the point when I need assistance or recuperating - I approach Everyone I can consider. You can approach the holy messengers, God, holy people, Our Lady, Her Divine Son - on any Divine Being. In the event that you are approaching the holy people for help, you don't have to know their names or which holy person to approach. Essentially request the holy person that can recuperate you, whoever the individual in question may be - and they will come. The equivalent for the heavenly attendants. Simply surrender it all over to God, believe that whoever you need will be sent to you. We people will in general confuse even the least complex of things, and we figure we should do everything ourselves - when in truth Divine powers are behind both our generally inconsequential and our most noteworthy accomplishments.

What's more, this may sound odd - yet at times the best healings come to us when we are petitioning God for other people. The primary mystery to Divine Healing is in extending our association with God. Our Lady, in Medjugorje, has said that we should all pick our very own otherworldly Path and afterward do our absolute best on it. That we should make God the exceptionally focal point of our lives.

In the event that we do this, at that point when we go to God and the other Divine Beings for help, the channel between us is as of now open and unadulterated. Something else, when we need assistance, we should invest valuable time and vitality first opening overwhelming, thick entryways that different us from God and His radiant position of royalty. In some cases we can't open the entryways - some of the time they have been shut for such a long time, they can't open aside from with extraordinary trouble. On the off chance that we are accustomed to going to God for even the littlest subtleties of our lives, at that point it is easy to discover Him when we are in torment or in trouble.

There was a man who composed Our Lady a letter every night. After certain years he chose to quit, thinking it a silly thing. One of the visionaries in Medjugorje, after a nebulous vision of Our Lady, reported that Our Blessed Mother had a message for somebody there. The message was that the man ought not quit keeping in touch with Her letters every night, Our Lady anticipated them. We should all compose God letters, each snapshot of consistently.

Ramana's Exercise

The Indian Sage Ramana Maharshi said that our first and last slip-up is thinking we are the physical body. As far as mending of the body, when we recollect that we are not the physical body we have made the main large stride towards recuperating. The spirit isn't debilitated or harmed, just the physical body is. At the point when we recollect that we are the Radiant soul, we are remaining in our actual Selves. What's more, the Radiance of the spirit, the Divine Light that is the spirit - can recuperate the physical body. In evident mending, the physical body is mixed with the Light of the spirit. Then again, in the event that we think we are simply the physical body, we can get detained in it - alongside its sicknesses and wounds. Our own musings will detain us.

Ramana's activity is to deep down ask: "Who is wiped out (or harmed)?" We answer: "I am." Then we ask: "Who am I?" The appropriate response is: "I am the spirit" or "I am Radiant Light". You can do this activity either with your eyes shut or open, albeit by and large it is simpler with your eyes closed. In the end, the inquiry, "Who is wiped out (or harmed)?" may be sufficient, there will be no compelling reason to state the remainder of the activity, the spirit will introduce itself to you significantly after the underlying inquiry, "Who is debilitated?".

This training can work for any ailment, damage - or negative feeling. On the off chance that you are furious, ask: "Who is irate?" If miserable, "Who is dismal?" The appropriate response is consistently the equivalent: "I am Radiant Light" or "I am the spirit".

Straightforward Healing Meditations

These contemplation practices are additionally sheltered, extremely incredible, and can have astonishing outcomes:

1. Perhaps the most straightforward short contemplations we can do is to just ask that the Divine, Healing, Radiant Light be sent to each cell of our body. Close your eyes and picture it. You can do this activity for a couple of moments a few times every day, or for as long as twenty minutes or all the more on more than one occasion every day. Now and then once is sufficient, for example you are recuperated subsequent to doing this activity the absolute first time.

We can likewise do this for other people, by internally imaging them and going them to the Radiant Divine Light. Regardless of whether we do this for just a couple of moments, a few times each day, it will bring recuperating - regularly a total mending for that individual. Every one of these activities will work better on the off chance that you earnestly approach God or Divine Beings to support you. One of my 'understudies' as of late did this specific exercise for her serious and difficult physical issues. She additionally approached each Divine Being she could consider to help her as she did the activity - and was supernaturally recuperated inside a couple of moments. I feel compelled to pressure this as much as possible: we are on the whole Healers. It is just a matter of the profundity of our Love and Compassion for every aware being and the profundity and broadness of our Trust in God.

2. Two all the more mending reflections:

Exercise I

Sit in a seat with your back straight and tenderly catch your hands, with your feet on the floor. (In the event that you can't sit up, rests on your back, with your arms at your sides.) Try to clear your psyche of musings. Request direction, edification and Healing. You can approach God or a particular strict figure in the event that you wish. Ask that you be filled and encompassed by the Divine, Healing Love that is the Divine, that is God. Picture the Divine Healing Light entering from the highest point of your head, filling each molecule of your body and afterward likewise encompassing you. Lounge in it. Deep down say some short expression, for example, "I am the spirit" or "I am brilliant Light", more than once, as you picture the Light fill and encompass you. Attempt to do this for 10 to 20 minutes. On the off chance that you are resting, envision the Light encompassing and filling you from over your inclined body.

Exercise II

You can likewise do the above envisioning yourself absolutely solid, restored and doing things that you love to do. In this activity see yourself cheerful and brilliant, made of Light. This activity could be shorter, 3-5 minutes. Also, you can do it more than once per day, as well as join it with reflection practice I. I propose that you attempt every one of the activities above and afterward choose which is best for you healing meditation. You additionally may locate that some recuperating activities or contemplations work best for specific illnesses or wounds. I have witnessed marvels with every one of them, they are generally extremely amazing - none of them appear to be less powerful than some other. In any case, every one of us must discover what works best in every circumstance, where our hearts are. With a touch of experimentation you should locate the best one for you.

I propose that you attempt every one of the activities above and afterward choose which is best for you. You additionally may locate that some recuperating activities or contemplations work best for specific illnesses or wounds. I have witnessed marvels with every one of them, they are generally extremely amazing - none of them appear to be less powerful than some other. In any case, every one of us must discover what works best in every circumstance, where our hearts are. With a touch of experimentation you should locate the best one for you.

[dragonshost]

Happy Birthday, @papalogia! I wrote you some ShiSaku to celebrate, with a hefty side of ItaSaku.

I hope you’re having an amazing birthday.

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Sakura x Shisui

Takes place in the same AU as Study Date.

Sakura and Shisui have gone on a lot of dates for people who aren't actually dating.

Sakura's hands curled against her legs, sweating in her leather, fingerless gloves. The heat in the room was stifling, but she dared not show any weakness in front of the man before her. He was peering at her curiously, processing the request she'd come to him with. The box fan in the corner, gentle hum lost beneath the cicadas cries, was doing little to alleviate Sakura's discomfort, and she wondered how it was that Itachi could look so unperturbed in his solid black outfit.

The fact that she hadn't been denied outright was promising, she felt.

Finally, Itachi addressed her. "You wish for me to... fake date you?"

She swallowed thickly, and nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of an emergency. Mom's been on my case ever since I hit twenty about settling down, and I finally caved and told her I had someone in my life just to get her off my back."

A wry smile touched his lips. "I can relate."

No doubt he could. The pressure was probably even worse on him as clan heir. "Mutually beneficial for both of us, then," Sakura stated. "We both get our mothers off our cases, and neither of us will expect anything of the other."

She could see him waffling. Sakura hadn't survived early childhood with Sasuke for nothing - she could read an Uchiha like no one else. Itachi's weak spot was always his mother and his brother. And he was easy to trust, somehow.

"Mebuki and Mikoto are both formidable women." He considered it further. "I must ask why you came to me, however. Wouldn't Sasuke or Naruto make more sense?"

"My mother would never buy it," Sakura replied, flat. "She wouldn't buy Sai, either, before you ask. My options aren't great - most everyone else already has a significant other. I got so desperate, I even asked Ino to be my fake date."

That seemed to deeply amuse him. "And how did that go?"

"She laughed me out of the flower shop."

A true smile tugged at the corners of Itachi's lips. "Then I will assist you. A few hours of socializing with your family is something I've managed before. When did you need me?"

"This Friday night?" she asked hopefully.

Suddenly, he sighed. "My apologies - I'm afraid I have a prior engagement that evening." The way his face twisted up with distaste, Sakura could venture a guess that it was something clan heir related. His dark eyes swept over her with something resembling pity.

It was her turn to sigh. "No, thank you for even agreeing at all. I'll just have to suck it up and eat crow." She was not looking forward to this in the least. Her mother would hold this over her forever. Maybe even use it as an excuse to set up a marriage meeting. No. That outcome needed to be avoided at all costs. Maybe she could convince Kankuro to make the journey from Suna. Dealing with one crow was preferable to the other variety, and she could swing, 'hey my boyfriend can't stay long or visit ever again because he lives in another country.' She would need a suitable bribe. If he couldn't do it, she was absolutely sunk, though.

Her obvious despair must have incited further compassion from the stoic man, as Itachi then offered, "I might know of someone else willing to entertain your request. He's another member of my clan, and so long as you state it clearly for him, he won't try to read into the situation."

Leaning forward, Sakura nodded vigorously. "Go on. Who is my savior angel?"

A smirk crawled across Itachi's face. "A certain Uchiha going stir crazy right now thanks to a certain medic's house rest recommendations."

She had been wrong. That was not compassion she had stirred in Itachi. It was cruelty.

Sakura groaned. "Not... not Shisui."

"Shisui," he confirmed.

"You're enjoying my suffering, aren't you," Sakura accused with a glare. "But I really am out of options... and his ribs should be healed enough by Friday to go out with supervision..." She sighed heavily. "Fine. I should at least ask him."

Itachi rose to his feet, patting her shoulder as he walked by. "I'll let him know to expect you. A visitor might..." He winced, and that was honestly all Sakura needed to know what she was in for.

"It's only been two days," she muttered. "He can't possibly be that..." She trailed off as well, and Itachi nodded solemnly in understanding.

This was going to be almost as unpleasant as showing up dateless would be.

The malicious glee on Shisui's face when she arrived at his home was almost enough for Sakura to turn on her heel and forget the whole ordeal. She was seriously reconsidering - not for the first time - her something-feeling for the man, and if she shouldn't just cut her losses and go with Plan Kankuro.

"So..." Shisui began, lying on his back in his futon, like she had prescribed (which was somewhat surprising, actually). "My wonderful cousin tells me that you're in need of a favor. Well, you're in luck because I'm in need of one as well."

"I'm not clearing you to leave your house," Sakura informed him bluntly. Medic duties came before personal feelings, and she took her job very seriously.

He grimaced. "Not interested, then. Do you have any idea how out of my mind bored I am thanks to you?"

"It's only been two days, and I'm not the one who broke your ribs," she reminded him. "Blame your wonderful cousin for that. And you can't bully me like you do the other medics so you're just sour."

Shisui rolled his eyes. "Since we can't reach an agreement, please leave my house. Just having another body next to me is stifling in this heat."

Why were all shinobi like this when it came to recuperating? Not all of them were as bad as Kakashi, but damn if they weren't all obstinate about what should be common sense. At least Shisui was obeying her orders, though. She would have had to physically tie down Kakashi or Naruto. (And good luck getting Shikamaru out of bed.)

But this was an emergency, and she really, really needed Shisui's cooperation.

"Wait!" The cry escaped her lips before she could stop herself, and tinged with far more desperation that she would like. "I can't clear you right now, but on Friday you can go out... with supervision."

He hummed in thought. "That's great, but you would have cleared me anyway as a medic. What else have you got?"

Sakura grit her teeth. Obstinate. All Uchihas were obstinate to a fault. "You would get a large homemade meal out of the deal."

His eyebrows shot up.

"With considerable leftovers."

"I'm in!" he agreed. "You had me at homemade meal. Haven't had one of those in forever. So what do you need from me that's so important that you're willing to stoop to bribing an invalid?"

"I need a fake date for dinner with my parents on Friday night."

"And I'm out," Shisui said. "I don't do parents. Parents are terrifying. Especially yours - I've met them. Mebuki, in particular, is extremely terrifying."

"And so is Itachi," Sakura reminded him. "Don't forget - he specifically recommended you to me. He'll dismember you if you winge on something you've technically already agreed to."

A strangled noise emanated from Shisui's throat as the truth of that statement sunk in. "You make a compelling argument."

Sakura could play Uchihas like a fiddle. Very annoying, whiny, high maintenance fiddles half the time, but still a valid comparison.

"So do we have a deal?" she asked.

He sighed, looking very put out, and Sakura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Fine. I'm in! What do I wear."

"Casual is fine but, you know, nice."

Shisui blankly stared at her for a long moment. "How about you just go to my closet and pick something out for me. Trust me, that'll be better for both our sakes."

After a second of consideration, Sakura agreed.

"And," Shisui added, "since you're getting up - mind bringing me some water? Then we can hash out the details about our sordid, nonexistent love life. Because, again, I've met your parents. They are going to grill me and serve me with soy sauce." He paused, as realization dawned. "Wait, I'm not the homecooked meal, am I?"

This time, Sakura did roll her eyes, and he gave her a grin.

Dinner, thankfully, went off without too many hiccups. Thankfully Kizashi and Mebuki were too busy squabbling over their daughter actually having a boyfriend to do much damage to the man's psyche.

That being said... the pair were exhausted by the end of the evening from the work of keeping the charade up.

"You know, it's lucky we're good friends and your mother's cooking is delicious," Shisui said with a smile as he waved goodbye to Sakura's parents. "I would not wish that awkwardness on anyone." He paused, and then added, "Except maybe Ebisu."

He didn't even know the half of it. Having your parents meet your boyfriend was nerve-wracking enough without it also being fake, and with the man you were not-quite-crushing on. Whoever invented feelings was a sadist. "At least you won't be asked every other day about how the nonexistent relationship is going," Sakura replied, tightening her grip on his arm in mild retaliation for her pain. "Tell me, how long do you think until I can tell them that we've broken up?"

"I'd give it two weeks, at least."

Sakura's face relaxed into a real smile (and so did her grip on his arm) as they rounded the corner and escaped her parents' line of sight. "Thanks for helping me out, Shisui."

He shrugged, unconcerned. "What are friends for, if not to fake date each other in times of need?"

"Yeah, you say that, but I distinctly recall you refusing at first."

The Uchiha shrugged again. "I don't remember that. Must have been the heat stroke talking."

"Uh huh," she said, unconvinced. "Well, if you ever need anything, I owe you one."

He looked a little too excited by that prospect. "Anything? Then, the next time I get injured..."

"You'll obey my orders as a medic-nin and enjoy it," she interjected.

His mouth closed with a snap. "Drat. Okay then... how about next time, you keep me company. Job permitting, anyway. It is seriously boring to just lay in bed all day for a week by myself."

Sakura nodded, warmth spreading across her cheeks. "Sure thing. I can do that."

They walked, arm-in-arm, across Konoha to Shisui's residence. They'd agreed ahead of time that Sakura could stay in the guest room that night. It would help with the illusion, and it was late, besides. There was also the fact that Sakura had meant it when she said Shisui wasn't to be out and about unattended, so dropping her off at her apartment was out. This was better all around for both of them.

As they neared the building, Sakura suddenly broke the comfortable silence.

"What do you think about ganging up on your cousin tomorrow for forcing us to endure this?"

"I am in."

[allof-theocs]

The Psychic Squad: Chapter Four

The shrinking valley was undoubtedly full of creatures by the time they had reached wherever Mahana was taking them. The rock touched down in front of a small wooden house and Mahana leapt off gracefully, sauntering in through the front door. Ryna figured they were at least five miles from the outer rim, and wondered what such an incredibly powerful psychic was doing out here instead of training for the military like she and the rest of her team were. Mahana’s power was incredible to say the least, but she found it difficult to get a proper read on their thoughts. Was Mahana using mental shields? Ryna wondered. She wasn’t sure whether to trust this stranger.

K and Jed dragged Dee into the house behind Mahana, and Ryna followed them closely. Mahana had set down a sheet on an old futon and they laid Dee down. “I’ll get some ice for her head.” Mahana said, and drifted off into another room.

Maybe it was pointless to distrust Mahana, Ryna thought. After all, they did save all their lives only moments prior. The rest of the team seemed to trust them well enough, K especially. The girl sighed. There really was no point in distrusting Mahana, but the mental shielding did worry her. “Hey, K.” Ryna put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Did you get a read on Mahana’s aura?”

The redhead nodded. “Yup. Mahana is a Starseed type psychic, from what I gathered. They glow pretty brightly too.” K paused for a moment. “What are you thinking, Ryna?”

“I’m not really sure-” She was interrupted by Mahana walking in briskly with a sack of ice and a first aid kid. They knelt beside Dee and placed the ice on her head.

“I can’t really tell where she’s injured, other than that gash on her forehead.” They said, frowning.

Ryna stepped up. “I think I can help with that.” She placed her hands over Dee and closed her eyes, going deep into her friend’s subconscious where she knew she’d find a catalogue of the likely extensive damage on her physical and mental bodies. She flicked through the contents of her mind, pushing aside irrelevant and private information, and looking instead for only what was essential to diagnose the damage. After what seemed like forever, Ryna found what she was looking for; a damaged psychic emitter. “Found it!” The girl released from her psychic trance.

“Found what?” Jed asked.

“A misaligned emitter. Dee is fine, physically speaking, but that shockwave in the valley damaged several parts of her psyche.” The team breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Mahana’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Why are you guys happy about this? This seems really bad.”

“It could have been so much worse. This isn’t the first time Dee has gone into shock, we know how to fix this.” Jed said. “I’m ready any time you guys are.” He glanced between K and Ryna. They nodded and each grabbed one of Ryna's shoulders. Deep in concentration, she placed her hands on either side of Dee’s head and went back into a trance.

K and Jed closed their eyes as well, allowing their consciousness to fade out and their astral bodies to move forward towards Dee. Each psychic unfurled their wings and created a protective barrier of auric light, enveloping Dee’s psychic body in technicolor, and healing the self inflicted damage done by the shockwave. With each pulse of light, Dee grew a little stronger, and Ryna could feel the psychic emitter sliding back into place. The unconscious girl’s shallow breathing evened out at last and the team returned to their physical bodies. Mahana watched them work with fascination; they truly worked as a unit, as if they were all one in the same. It was incredible.

One by one, the team pulled out of their trance. Ryna abruptly stood and faced Mahana. “I can dress the wound on her head, no problem, but I need to know who you are, nothing held back.” She said. Ryna hadn’t met someone who actively shielded their mind since Alaina, and this troubled her.

They nodded. “Alright, that’s fair, but it’s kind of a long story.” Mahana combed their fingers through thick curly hair and sighed. They began to speak once Ryna had begun to clean off Dee’s forehead. “Around twelve years ago is when I discovered I was a psychic human along with my siblings, Jena and Koheda. We were triplets. My parents were overjoyed, claiming that we were Starseeds, children incarnated from a different galaxy. But it was only a matter of time before the PCAI (Psychic Children Accumulation Initiative) found out. They found Koheda first, he gave himself up willingly.” Mahana’s face fell in pain. “Jena bought me time to run, but… they eventually found her too. From what I understand, she was sent to a reeducation center in New Orleans.”

“God, I’m so sorry.” K said.

“I have no idea where she is now, but I received intel via some of my parents old contacts that Koheda was in a nearby compound.” They said.

Jed raised an eyebrow. “Hold up. This compound is for Earth Angel type psychics. Starseed psychics are based on the other side of Appalachia. Are you quite sure you have the correct area? Maybe your intel is bad.” He crossed his arms.

“Well, that was my initial thought as well. After all, why send me to the wrong side of the mountains? But the coordinates led me straight to this house, so I figured that there was no way this could be a coincidence.” Mahana pulled a small glowing stone out of their pocket. “I found this in the basement when I first arrived. It gives off significant psychic interference, probably enough to block any scanners in the sector. It’s likely what has kept me from being discovered for so long.”

Bells went off in Ryna’s head. “Oh my god, everything makes sense now. That’s why I couldn’t get a read on you, isn’t it? Do you mind if I take a look at it?” She asked. They nodded and handed it over. The girl held it up to the dim sunlight filtering through. The rock was a translucent quartz variety at first glance, but Ryna knew better than to accept that. The oddest thing about the stone was the fact that the color emanating from it changed from a deep purple in Mahana’s hands to a vibrant green in Ryna’s hands. “I wonder…” She began and tossed the stone to K.

A pale pink and red light began to shine as soon as K caught the stone. “It corresponds to our auras then?” She asked.

Ryna glanced over at Mahana, and was now able to clearly read their surface emotions. “That would be my best guess at this point.” Jed, who thus far had been mostly silent, spoke up. “The remaining question is where do we go from here?” He put his head in his hands. “I obviously don’t want to turn you in, Mahana, but…” he trailed off.

“But what?”

“How are we going to explain any of this without leading them straight to you, one way or another.”

“He has a point. This is pretty dangerous for you.” K said.

Mahana was contemplative for a moment. “Actually, this provides me with a perfect opportunity. I still need to get into the facility, and if I come in with you guys as a civilian in danger, it provides me with the perfect cover.”

“That’s pretty risky, going into a secure military base. What if you get caught. There’s no guarantee that any of us will be able to help you out of a tough spot once we get inside.” Jed said.

Mahana grinned and lifted up their hands to reveal two bracelets. “I can take care of myself alright.” They twisted the bracelets which formed into two bladed gauntlets. “If I get into a tight spot, I will be just fine. Now,” they smirked, “take me to your leader.”

@kalipygos @confusedwithglitter

[renaroo]

Double Time (9/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: I’m so sorry to everyone for the exceptionally long wait! I had finals and surgical assessment last week and was traveling a lot at the beginning of this week. But! Better late than never! We have this chapter primed and ready for you all ; ) 

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @freshzombiewriter, @analiarvb, @icefrozenover, @alcientracers, BetaZack, Yin,@notatroll7, @a-taller-tale, @washingtonstub, @ashleystlawrence, @kiwibat, @irl-ami-mizuno, @thepheonixqueen, @whimsical-writer, @werkthatasdfl, and orangecookiekay  on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

An Apple a Day

For reasons that probably spoke a lot to his general psyche, Washington opened his eyes half expecting to see the inside of a dumpster. And it was only a little disconcerting that he found himself a little disappointed when that was not the case.

Still, he felt like he had hit the broadside of someone’s getaway vehicle. And that wasn’t a feeling that was going to get old any time soon. 

“Oh, goodness! It looks as though you’ve finally decided to join the world of the waking!” 

The voice was unfamiliar, but so loud and so incapable of being ignored that Washington found himself turning to face it all the same. When he did, he was met by a dark woman with graying hair and a white surgical mask on with purple trimming. 

Medical getup was less disconcerting. 

“What’s going on? Where am I?” Washington began with a low panic just before trying to raise into a sitting position and finding his body very much protested every bit of it He hit the mattress of the stiff cot almost immediately. “Ow.”

“And that, dear Donald, is why I make a point of not healing everything at once when I receive class S patients! They always think they’re ready to get up and get rolling before they have even the slightest medical approval,” the doctor informed someone over her shoulder.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Washington tried to get his thoughts collected -- the courthouse was on fire, Locus, explosions, super strength, Junior -- but the more he thought, the less sense he could make. And worst of all, the more he realized that he didn’t have time to be laying in a cot in who-knew-where nor to play around with the mysterious doctor figure. He needed to save the city and the people and--

“I have to leave,” he announced before attempting to sit up again. Only that time, the mysterious doctor pushed down on his shoulders and forced him to lay back. 

“My, you are persistent. And one track minded,” she said with a tone that belied some amusement with his struggle.

“There are people in danger,” Washington attempted to argue only for a finger to be pushed against his lips.

“Only one of those people are my patient, Mister Washington! And the danger he is in is of being sedated should he not take the time to breathe, to listen, and to accept the medical care being provided to him by our wonderful city tax payers at the moment,” she warned.

Wash squinted at her. “I don’t know you,” he said, as if that was supposed to be the only response necessary for ending the current nonsense. 

“Yes, well, that would be expected when you haven’t given any of us time for an introduction,” she replied cheerfully. “My name is Doctor Emily Grey! I specialize in Class S patients, but of course I can also see any patient with normal anatomy and physiology. They’re just far less interesting.”

"She’s a friend, Washington,” Doyle spoke up, finally stepping out from behind the doctor. “A personal friend and an expert in her field. The moment I saw that you needed help after that brute Locus finished with you, I knew to call her up immediately.”

“Locus,” Wash spat out the name like it was poison. He pushed up again only for Doctor Grey to shove him back down. “Is everyone safe? The courthouse--”

“Burned down, I’m afraid,” Kimball said, revealing herself to be not too far behind Doyle. “Along with the physical copies of the ballots. We’re going to have to have a special election to decide this monstrosity of an election.”

There were few things less on Wash’s mind at that moment than the major dick waving contest that was this apparent election between Kimball and Doyle. But he should have figured one of the first things out of at least one of their mouths was going to be about it.

“Civilians?” he asked.

“I’m sure their voter turnout will be even lower than it was for the first election,” Doyle sighed. 

“Were any hurt?” Wash asked more testily. 

“Oh, gracious me, no, of course not,” Doyle said firmly. “Everyone stayed back, just as you advised!”

“But their wallets are going to be hurting,” Kimball said sourly. “All the infrastructure damage that will have to repaired? There’s no way we can risk lowering taxes in any bracket.” She then turned her hardened eyes on Washington. “Which is exactly why I wanted you to call on the team for backup! I knew that even if you could manage this on your own -- which you couldn’t -- it was going to be disastrous for the public property!”

“They weren’t ready,” Wash said pointedly. “We just started training and...” Remembering the training session, Wash felt his eyes widen and he began to push again only to be held down by Grey who was still examining him, flashing an opthalmoscope in his eyes. “Wait! What time is it? I have to leave! I have an appointment--”

"I am afraid that linner will have to wait,” the doctor announced. 

Wash squinted at her and opened his mouth to respond only for a tongue depressor to be stuck to the back of his throat and causing him to gag. After getting over the initial shock, he gagged on the stick and forced Grey to withdraw it from her throat. “H-how do you know about linner? I thought it was something that Tucker made up--”

“Because your significant other has been hardly held back in the hallway and told us all about it,” Kimball replied. 

“You seem to be rather... unused to the ins and outs of having a secret identity,” Doyle reprimanded. 

“Says the people who found out my identity and sent me mail directly to my home,” Wash grouched. “If Tucker’s here then I want to see him.”

“Done!” Tucker yelled just before kicking the door in, to the seeming shock of the young heroes who had been standing on both sides of it. Washington made a mental note to put in some new training exercises that involved building the group some backbones in the future. 

“Tucker,” Wash said. “I’m sorry I missed--”

“Oh, shut up,” Tucker said, marching up to his bedside and letting Wash see for the first time that he was visibly shaken, pale, and red-eyed behind his glasses. “Just... Man, I don’t even want to hear it right now.”

“You that angry that I didn’t keep my promise?” Wash tried to joke. 

“Shut up,” Tucker snorted, grabbing his hand. “I’m upset that you got your ass kicked on television and I had to watch it. C’mon. You can’t do that to me. You know Church and I have a running bet on your battles.”

“Yeah, so sorry to disappoint the betting pool,” Wash answered. “I’m okay, though. That... That Locus guy took me by surprise. I’m amazed he didn’t do more damage--”

Banter was good, banter was almost normal. 

But when Washington watched Tucker’s face he didn’t see any amusement or acceptance of the levity. There was a strict seriousness in Tucker’s face instead, something that sat as unnaturally on his brow as a scowl. 

Washington leaned back some. “What? What’s wrong--”

“You almost die on national television and you have to ask me what’s wrong, Wash?” Tucker asked stiffly. “Wow, I must be one cold motherfucker to you, huh?” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Wash tried to argue just before there was another throat clearing to interrupt him. 

Both Tucker and Wash turned to look at Doctor Grey again as she waved her hand and showed that brilliant white smile. “Hello again! It certainly sounds like there is a lot of talking that should be happening between the two of you! Communication is highly important for a relationship!”

“We know,” both Wash and Tucker said at once only to glance at each other again. 

“But I do have a lot of patients to get to and I need to know if I have permission to do my special doctoral duty yet or not,” she said, eyes more locked on Tucker than on Wash.

Wash then looked curiously toward Tucker. “What’s she talking about--?”

“Oh, the healing thing, right,” Tucker said, snapping his fingers. “Yeah, Doc, lay it on him. We’ve still got a lot to do today!” 

“Healing?” Washington parroted as the doctor neared him. “You mean there was a way to heal me and you were choosing not to?”

“Well, yeah, I know you,” Tucker replied, crossing his arms. “I nursed you to health before, remember? Injuries were about the only thing that was going to keep you planted in this bed long enough to hear a few people out.”

“That seems exploitative,” Wash grumbled as Doctor Grey laid literal hands on him. 

“Oh, most certainly,” Doctor Grey said brightly. “But considering how jarring my power can be, sometimes it’s less helpful for me to heal you while you’re unconscious than to wait until your bones feel a bit more settled as they are!”

Washington shifted uncomfortably but allowed the woman to do her work. 

“I’d do what the nice lady calls for, Grandpa. She’s a professional and what not. Especially for our kind.”

Alarmed, mostly because he hadn’t heard or seen anyone else enter the room, Wash sat up more and found himself looking toward the door of the room where a man in gray and orange was leaning against the door, a broad, sleazy smile across his face. 

"Who the hell is this?” Washington demanded. 

“Please, Mister Washington, lie down for the most effective use of my powers,” Doctor Grey said in the same happy tone, though it edged on warning. 

“Well, is that any way to greet the man who just saved your life,” the man continued smoothly.

Tucker shrugged. “It’s true, Wash. Everyone saw it -- Locus was coming for you again when Felix came out of nowhere and helped put a stop to him.”

A little calmer, Wash still looked at the Felix-character suspiciously. “You... You saved my life?” he asked warily.

“Sure thing,” Felix replied casually. “Though you shouldn’t be too surprised. Locus is somewhat out of your league, old man.”

“Old man?” Wash asked almost hysterically. “You’re can’t be that much older than me.”

“But I’m fresh and new in the public eye,” Felix said, tapping on his visor.

“I’ve barely been in the public eye for an hour more,” Wash said critically. 

“And healed!” Grey announced happily, clapping her hands together. She apparently had been paying no mind to the conversation. 

Washington hated to admit it, but he felt more than a hundred percent better as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He was able to get more of a look at Felix that way -- see the sleek design of his suit, the high end equipment from head to toe, and the way he seemed to be genuinely fitted like a superhero that would have made the front poses of a Freelancer lineup.

It kind of made him hate the guy more.

But Wash was quickly yanked from his thoughts as Tucker grabbed his bicep tightly. “Hey, cool it, Wash,” Tucker said soothingly. “He saved your life, dude! The least you can say is a thank you! I’d kick Junior’s ass for not saying thank you to the guy who saved him!” 

Jarred by the statement, Wash looked at Tucker wide eyed. “Junior... Tucker, I think--”

“I think you’re needing to thank someone,” Tucker urged, tugging on the man’s arm. 

Feeling like a little child being led through his manners, Wash let out a thick huff of air and then looked toward Felix. “Thank you,” he said uncomfortably. “Thank you for saving my life. I owe you.”

“You bet you do,” Felix grinned, “Partner. We’ll hash out the details with Vanessa later, until then I’ll leave you to sort things out with your... buddy here,” he joked with a wave of his hand as he headed out the door. “Stay sharp, Washington.”

Washington kept watching over Felix, bewildered and unnerved all at once, but he had little time to truly concentrate on it because Tucker was pulling an arm around his shoulders and giving him a half hug.

“Wow, you’re really healed! Even that nasty bump on your head! That’s amazing, Doc!” Tucker called out, sounding genuinely elated.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she laughed. “I’m always happy to help. Imagine my shock at how normal the majority of Washington’s physiology is compared to other heroes!”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Wash said to Grey, though his focus was still on the hall and Felix. “Guess there’s no end to the number of people I’m thankful toward lately.”

Tucker gave him a curious look but didn’t press it, at least not yet. Wash was sure there was more to discuss later. 

[thewrosper]

Psychological Impact of Lockdown & Conflict on Kashmiri Children

Armed conflict in Kashmir has a detrimental effect on all the inhabitants of the valley but children, undoubtedly, fall in the most vulnerable category. Some of the immediate targets in the life of a child who is exposed to an environment of conflict are the health aspects, which are, in my opinion, the most significant ones for a child to develop into a productive adult. Firstly, and at the physical level, the health of our kids is crippled by the armed conflict; with over 300 children killed merely since 2003, thousands maimed forever and numerous blinded. The pattern clearly shows how children were direct targets of state violence, as part of its stated offensive to curb the uprising in the state.Secondly, if by chance the child survives, he is inflicted by those silent, torturous weapons! Yes! I am talking about the silent, but excruciating mental scars. With each passing day, the conflict in Kashmir is developing negatively from bad to worse and excessive use of armed forces, torture and of course injustice are the factors to blame. Children, being young and unaware, have been and remain one of the worst affected social groups in the ongoing conflict. While adults are busy surviving, schools and playgrounds that were supposed to be the places for children to play, are damaged and more often than not, taken over by the forces. Another aspect is that in a state afflicted with conflict, child rights are violated on a massive scale and it passes as “almost normal.” Thousands of children in Kashmir are affected and that too, beyond any healing. At a tender age, they are confronted with physical harm, violence, danger, fear and loss. At the time when they were supposed to learn the first Kalimas, they learn the Dua’as of Maghfira. When they were supposed to play with toy guns, they witness real guns that have killed their families before they could know them. Paranoia grips their tender psyche and just when they reach a barely teen age, they are forced to rebel. It’s a vicious circle of exploitation. The impact of the ongoing conflict on Kashmiri children has received a little or, let’s say, no attention so far. While parents want and try their best to provide a safe and secure atmosphere for their children to grow up in, unfortunately, in Kashmir, they have to bury the hatchet of wanting to see their children flourish.Thousands of Kashmiri children have already lost their childhood to the turmoil and the violence. And with each bullet and each tear gas shellfire,the number only keeps mounting. George Orwell once said “War is peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is strength.” That is precisely what is happening in Kashmir. The effects of war are so severe that over the years it has affected generations of children so harshly, twisted their thought process, their emotional and psychological capabilities so severely, that this troubled state of oppression and war crimes has become the new normal for our young ones.The conflict has mentally disabled generations of children and young people beyond any repair for the rest of their lives. The consequences are endless, but to name a few, hundreds, even thousands of children are exposed to high levels of stress which results in disorders such as Hysteria, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Acute Stress Reactions, Anxiety, Psychosis and Depression. Coping strategies, unfortunately, are not many. And children forced to grow up before they earlier had to, render to substance abuse to calm their senses down superficially or even choosing a more lethal path- that of armed rebellion. Again, a never ending circle that only has one end- Death. I believe that Kashmiri children suffer from direct alterations in their personalities, identities and behaviors every day. Each gun shot fired brings them a step closer to PTSD. Each banging on the door increases their count of nightmares. Each window pane broken shatters their idea of living in a peaceful society. Each night protest makes their insomnia more severe, each security raid, each dead body witnessed sinks their mental health further.If we examine, our children, barely after their toddling age, have “HUM KYA CHAHTAY? AZAADI!” on the tip of their tongues. Bring me one single child from the valley who doesn’t have the slogan memorized and I’ll be damned! Even though our children don’t know the actual meaning of what they are saying, yet, they imitate what is reverberating from each nook and corner. Initially, in imitation, a child, barely in his pre-teens, would simply go out and join the crowd and say, “Everyone is on the street and pelting stones, even my friends are doing the same, thus, I did the same.” What maybe enjoyed as a light day of a strike call and happily accepted absence from school, used up in throwing stones for fun, or at times, to even release the young fury in their tender minds, is actually a price heavily paid to the boiling pot of conflict in disguise. We are sacrificing both our, and the peace of mind of our children, sacrificing our jobs, our earning, the education of our children. We are, moreover, sacrificing our lives. Our children might not have inherited our culture or our religion, but they sure have inherited the conflict. In their minds, the songs of freedom are playing, as you read these words, on loop. However, contrary to what one might assume, the songs are filled with tunes, rather, blasts of gunshots and hues of blood. One similar song reverberates in my mind as I’m writing this… “IN SPRING THE FLOWERS BLOOM; OURS DIE.” The children of this Paradise on earth feel cramped, shut in a hovel, and imprisoned in their own minds wherein insolent doubts and fears make up the bars of the prison. Lastly, I would once again say that our children are facing the brunt of this conflict. They have lost their childhood, their innocence, their hopes and even their ability to dream. Worse is, they will continue to be victimized until an unanimous and peaceful resolution is not passed to settle the Kashmir issue down. Now, let’s approach the idea of what can be done. I know many of us bring the facts to the surface but most of us don’t actually do much afterwards. The solving of the conflict is long term. What can be done immediately? That’s precisely the question we are working upon. JKCCS (Jammu & Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society) has advocated for human rights in Jammu and Kashmir for nearly two decades. Its area of concern covers the whole conflict. Right from arbitrary detentions to ceasefire line killing to take encounters and so on. As a coalition of civil rights groups, Its work is to speak truth to power and confront the State and its violence. It believes in collective unity and our aims of making the Valley of Jammu and Kashmir a better place for the people residing here, striving hard to work towards providing all the internationally guaranteed civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights including the right to self-determination remains our basic agenda. As far as the children of the valley are concerned, JKCCS recently released a report titled “Terrorized: Impact of Violence on the Children of Jammu and Kashmir”. The report is the assessment of the violence against children in Jammu and Kashmir in the last fifteen years i.e. (2003 to 2017) and gives data on killings, arrests, mass violence, sexual violence perpetrated against children. The report provides statistics, graphs, figures, and the analysis of killings of children in the last fifteen years (2003 to 2017) in various incidents of violence in Jammu and Kashmir. The report lays bare that there are no legal and normative processes or practices protecting children’s rights in Jammu and Kashmir as hundreds of minors have been booked under the repressive Public Safety Act (PSA), with total disregard to the fact of their being children. We do understand that children are the building blocks of our society and they need to have a childhood of peace and tranquility. Not one spent under the shadow of guns and grenades. We need scaled-up responses to improve psycho-social well being of our young ones before further generations. I would conclude this with a quote, Benjamin Sáenz once said, ‘The heart can get really cold if all you’ve known is winter.’ The conflict has set somber clouds of grief over our skies and it doesn’t look like either us, our children will witness spring anytime soon, but the least we could do is to stop our hearts from freezing and becoming indifferent to the suffering of our own people and get united against these perpetual war crimes and child abuses. We need to do our service to our state. A long overdue, service. As I conclude this, I hear the noise of security helicopters hovering in the night sky above me. Patrolling for us? Patrolling us? No one really knows. Author studies Law and is a founding member of MASHEK, an NGO for the children of conflict. Article written by Ovais Karni. He can be contacted on Twitter @OvaisKarni This is an independent opinion article. The Wrosper is not responsible for the content of the article. Read the full article

[juderyanreiling]

The Wisdom in Dark Emotions

BY MIRIAM GREENSPAN| OCTOBER 6, 2017

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Grief, fear and despair are part of the human condition. Each of these emotions is useful, says psychotherapist Miriam Greenspan, if we know how to listen to them.

Photo by Pelly Benassi.

I was brought to the practice of mindfulness more than two decades ago by the death of my first child. Aaron died two months after he was born, never having left the hospital. Shortly after that, a friend introduced me to a teacher from whom I learned the basics of Vipassana meditation: how to breathe mindfully and meditate with “choiceless” awareness. I remember attending a dharma talk in a room full of fifty meditators. The teacher spoke about the Four Noble Truths. Life is inherently unsatisfactory, he said. The ego’s restless desires are no sooner fulfilled than they find new objects. Craving and aversion breed suffering. One of his examples was waiting in line for a movie and then not getting in.

I asked: “But what if you’re not suffering because of some trivial attachment? What if it’s about something significant, like death? What if you’re grieving because your baby was born with brain damage and died before he had a chance to live?” I wept openly, expecting that there, of all places, my tears would be accepted.

The teacher asked, “How long has your son been dead?” When I told him it had been two months, his response was swift: “Well then, that’s in the past now, isn’t it? It’s time to let go of the past and live in the present moment.”

I felt reprimanded for feeling sad about my son’s death. The teacher’s response baffled me. Live in the present? My present was suffused with a wrenching sorrow—a hole in my heart that bled daily. But the present moment, as he conceived of it, could be cleanly sliced away from and inured against this messy pain. Divested of grief, an emotionally sanitized “present moment” was served up as an antidote for my tears. However well meaning, the message was clear: Stop grieving. Get over it. Move on.

This is a familiar message. Its unintended emotional intolerance often greets those who grieve, especially if they do so openly. I call this kind of intolerance “emotion-phobia”: a pervasive fear and reflexive avoidance of difficult emotions in oneself and/or others. This is accompanied by a set of unquestioned normative beliefs about the “negativity” of painful feelings.

Emotion-phobia is endemic to our culture and perhaps to patriarchal culture in general. You’ll find it in sub-cultures as different as spiritual retreats, popular self-help books and psychiatric manuals. In fact, my teacher’s supposedly Buddhist response was very much in line with the prevailing psychiatric view of grief. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual IV (the “bible” of psychiatry), the patient who is grieving a death is allotted two months for “symptoms” such as sadness, insomnia and loss of appetite before being diagnosable with a “Major Depressive Disorder.” Grief, perhaps the most inevitable of all human emotions, given the unalterable fact of mortality, is seen as an illness if it goes on too long. But how much is too long? My mother, a Holocaust survivor, grieved actively for the first decade of my life. Was this too long a grief for genocide? Time frames for our emotions are nothing if not arbitrary, but appearing in a diagnostic and statistical manual, they attain the ring of truth. The two month limit is one of many examples of institutional psychiatry’s emotion-phobia.

Emotions like grief, fear and despair are as much a part of the human condition as love, awe and joy. They are our natural and inevitable responses to existence, so long as loss, vulnerability and violence come with the territory of being human. These are the dark emotions, but by dark, I don’t mean that they are bad, unwholesome or pathological. I mean that as a culture we have kept these emotions in the dark—shameful, secret and unseen.

Emotion-phobia dissociates us from the energies of these emotions and tells us they are untrustworthy, dangerous and destructive. Like other traits our culture distrusts and devalues—vulnerability, for instance, and dependence—emotionality is associated with weakness, women and children. We tend to regard these painful emotions as signs of psychological fragility, mental disorder or spiritual defect. We suppress, intellectualize, judge or deny them. We may use our spiritual beliefs or practices to bypass their reality.

Few of us learn how to experience the dark emotions fully—in the body, with awareness—so we end up experiencing their energies in displaced, neurotic or dangerous forms. We act out impulsively. We become addicted to a variety of substances and/or activities. We become depressed, anxious or emotionally numb, and aborted dark emotions are at the root of these characteristic psychological disorders of our time. But it’s not the emotions themselves that are the problem; it’s our inability to bear them mindfully.

Every dark emotion has a value and purpose. There are no negative emotions; there are only negative attitudes towards emotions we don’t like and can’t tolerate, and the negative consequences of denying them. The emotions we call “negative” are energies that get our attention, ask for expression, transmit information and impel action. Grief tells us that we are all interconnected in the web of life, and that what connects us also breaks our hearts. Fear alerts us to protect and sustain life. Despair asks us to grieve our losses, to examine and transform the meaning of our lives, to repair our broken souls. Each of these emotions is purposeful and useful—if we know how to listen to them.

But if grief is barely tolerated in our culture, even less are fear and despair. The fact is we are all afraid and act as if we’re not. We fear the sheer vulnerability of existence; we fear its unpredictability. When we are unable to feel our fear mindfully, we turn it into anger, psychosomatic ailments or a host of “anxiety disorders”—displacements of fears we can’t feel or name.

According to experts, some 50 million people in this country suffer from phobias at some point in their lives, and millions more are diagnosed with other anxiety disorders. One reason is that we’ve lost touch with the actual experience of primal, natural fear. When fear is numbed, we learn little about what it’s for—its inherent usefulness as an alarm system that we ignore at our peril. Benumbed fear is especially dangerous when it becomes an unconscious source of vengeance, violence and other destructive acts. We see this acted out on the world stage as much as in the individual psyche.

As for despair, how many among us have not experienced periods of feeling empty, desolate, hopeless, brooding over the darkness in our world? This is the landscape of despair. Judging from my thirty years of experience as a psychotherapist, I would say that despair is common, yet we don’t speak of despair anymore. We speak of clinical depression, serotonin-deficiency, biochemical disorder and the new selective serotonin-reuptake inhibitors. We treat the “illness” with a host of new medications. In my view, “depression” is the word we use in our highly medicalized culture for a condition of chronic despair—despair that is stuck in the body and toxified by our inability to bear it mindfully. When we think of all despair as a mental disorder or a biochemical illness, we miss the spiritual metamorphosis to which it calls us.

In retrospect, a more helpful answer from my meditation teacher (and one more in line with the Buddha’s teachings) might have been, If you are grieving, do so mindfully. Pay attention to your grief. Stop and listen to it. Befriend it and let it be. The dark emotions are profound but challenging spiritual teachers, like the Zen master who whacks you until you develop patience and spiritual discipline. When grief shattered my heart after Aaron’s death, that brought with it an expansion, the beginning of my experience of a Self larger than my broken ego. Grieving mindfully—without recourse to suppression, intellectualization or religious dogmatism—made me a happier person than I’d ever been.

What I learned by listening closely to grief was a transformational process I call “the alchemy of the dark emotions.” Many years after Aaron’s death, after a second radiantly healthy child and a third who was born with a mysterious neuromotor disorder, I began to write about these alchemies—from grief to gratitude, fear to joy, and despair to faith—that I had experienced in my own life and witnessed countless times in my work as a psychotherapist.

The alchemy of the dark emotions is a process that cannot be forced, but it can be encouraged by cultivating certain basic emotional skills. The three basic skills are attending to, befriending and surrendering to emotions that make us uncomfortable. Attending to our dark emotions is not just noticing a feeling and then distancing ourselves from it. It’s about being mindful of emotions as bodily sensations and experiencing them fully. Befriending emotion is how we extend our emotional attention spans. Once again, this is a body-friendly process—getting into the body, not away from it into our thoughts. At the least, it’s a process of becoming aware of how our thoughts both trigger emotions and take us away from them. Similarly, surrender is not about letting go but about letting be. When you are open to your heart’s pain and to your body’s experience of it, emotions flow in the direction of greater healing, balance and harmony.

Attending to, befriending and surrendering to grief, we are surprised to discover a profound gratitude for life. Attending to, befriending and surrendering to fear, we find the courage to open to our vulnerability and we are released into the joy of knowing that we can live with and use our fear wisely. Attending to, befriending and surrendering to despair, we discover that we can look into the heart of darkness in ourselves and our world, and emerge with a more resilient faith in life.

Because we are all pretty much novices at this process, we need to discipline ourselves to be mindful and tolerant of the dark emotions. This is a chaotic, non-linear process, but I have broken it down to seven basic steps: 1) intention, 2) affirmation, 3) sensation, 4) contextualization, 5) the way of non-action, 6) the way of action and 7) the way of surrender.

1. Intention

Intention is the means by which the mind, heart and spirit are engaged and focused. Transforming the dark emotions begins when we set our intention on using our grief, fear and despair for the purpose of healing. It is helpful to ask yourself: What is my best intention with regard to the grief, fear and despair in my life? What would I want to learn or gain from this suffering?

2. Affirmation

The second step in using the dark emotions for growth is affirming their wisdom. This means changing the way we think about how we feel, and developing and cultivating a positive attitude toward challenging feelings.

3. Sensation

Emotional intelligence is a bodily intelligence, so you have to know how to listen to your body. The step I call “sensation” includes knowing how to sense and name emotions as we experience them in the body. We need to become more familiar and friendly with the actual physical sensations of emotional energy. Meditation, T’ai chi, yoga and other physical practices that cultivate mindfulness are particularly useful. How does your body feel when you are sad, fearful or despairing? What kinds of stories does your mind spin about these emotions? What happens when you simply observe these sensations and stories, without trying to understand, analyze or change anything?

4. Contextualization

In step four, contextualization, you acquaint yourself with the stories you usually tell yourself about your emotional suffering, and then place them in a broader social, cultural, global or cosmic context. In enlarging your personal story, you connect it to a larger story of grief, fear or despair in the world. This gets us out of the isolation and narcissism of our personal history, and opens us to transforming our suffering into compassion.

5. The way of non-action

Step five, the way of non-action, is the skill that psychologists call “affect tolerance.” This step extends our ability to befriend the pain of the dark emotions in the body. When you can tolerate the pain of grief, fear and despair without acting prematurely to escape it, you are practicing the way of non-action. Again, it is helpful to meditate on your emotions with the intention of really listening to them. What does your grief, fear or despair ask of you? In meditation, listen to the answers that come from your heart, rather than from your analytic mind.

6. The way of action

The dark emotions ask us to act in some way. While the way of non-action builds our tolerance for dark emotional energy, step six is about finding an action or set of actions that puts this energy to good use. In the way of action, we act not in order to distract ourselves from emotion but in order to use its energy with the intention of transformation. The dark emotions call us to find the right action, to act with awareness and to observe the transformations that ensue, however subtle. Action can be strong medicine in times of trouble. If you are afraid, help someone who lives in fear. For example, volunteer at a battered women’s shelter. If you’re sad and lonely, work for the homeless. If you’re struggling with despair, volunteer at a hospice. Get your hands dirty with the emotion that scares you. This is one of the best ways to find hope in despair, to find connection in a shared grief and to discover the joy of working to create a less broken world.

7. The way of surrender

Finally, step seven, the way of surrender, is the art of conscious emotional flow. Emotional flow is something that happens automatically when you know how to attend to and befriend your emotions. When we are in flow with emotion, the energy becomes transformative, opening us to unexpected vistas.

When we look deeply into the dark emotions in our lives, we find both the universality of suffering and how much suffering is unnecessary, the result of social inequities, oppression, large scale violence and trauma. Our awareness both of the universality of suffering and of its socially created manifestations is critical to the healing journey. Knowing how our grief, fear and despair may be connected to larger emotional currents and social conditions de-pathologizes these emotions, allowing us to accept and tolerate them more fruitfully, and with more compassion for ourselves and others. We begin to see the dark emotions as messengers, information-bearers and teachers, rather than “negative” energies we must subdue, tame or deny. We tend to think of our “negative” emotions as signs that there’s something wrong with us. But the deepest significance of the feelings is simply our shared human vulnerability. When we know this deeply, we begin to heal in a way that connects rather than separates us from the world.

[vernicle]

Cleansing Bad Karma

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Bad karma is the spiritual credit card debt a single has accumulated for one's problems from all former lives and this lifestyle. It consists of killing, harming, having gain, cheating, stealing, and far more. On Mom Earth, when you acquire a home, you get out a house loan from a lender. This house loan is your credit card debt to the lender. You spend each and every thirty day period for fifteen, twenty, or thirty many years to very clear your money credit card debt. In the spiritual realm, if you have poor karma, you may possibly have to spend for numerous lifetimes to very clear your spiritual credit card debt.

On Mom Earth, funds is the car or truck of trade. If you have a credit card debt, you offer you funds to spend off your credit card debt. How do you spend off a spiritual credit card debt? Advantage is spiritual funds. If you have a spiritual credit card debt, you have to spend with advantage. Advantage is the document of solutions from all your lifetimes. Superior advantage has spiritual worth. Superior advantage is earned by good services, which includes like, forgiveness, compassion, peace, sincerity, honesty, generosity, kindness, integrity, purity, and far more. If you serve in these good approaches, the Akashic Data will document these solutions. You are then presented advantage.

Let me share an crucial soul secret: Advantage can be calculated by a significant-amount spiritual staying. Superior advantage is presented as dots and bouquets of distinctive colors-crimson, golden, rainbow, purple, and crystal dots and bouquets. Ten tiny dots variety a tiny flower. Ten tiny bouquets variety a major flower. As a result, a flower carries far more advantage than a dot. A major flower carries far more advantage than a tiny flower. It is identical on Mom Earth, exactly where we have denominations of funds with distinctive values-ten-and twenty-5-cent coins and paper currency of a single, 5, ten, twenty bucks, and so on.

When you offer you good services to humanity and other folks, you are presented distinctive-colored dots. Groups of dots will variety bouquets. If you are performing good services, you can be presented distinctive dimensions of bouquets instantly. This advantage expressed in dots and bouquets will appear down to your guide in the Akashic Data and to your soul at the identical time. When these dots and bouquets appear, the spiritual credit card debt in your Akashic guide will be paid out, small by small. The darkish documents will be erased, small by small. If you offer you a significant services to humanity, you can receive substantial bouquets. Then your darkish documents, which are the problems you built in all previous lives and this lifestyle, will be taken off from your Akashic guide. The classes you were being supposed to learn, which contain sickness, damaged interactions, money problems, and all other blockages in each and every part of your lifestyle, are canceled. Your spiritual credit card debt is paid out off.

There is only a single way to very clear your have poor karma: Give unconditional universal services. The far more you serve, the quicker you will very clear your karma. Prayer alone is not enough to very clear your karma. You have to offer you services. You have to make good efforts to very clear your karma.

Let me share a profound new way to very clear your karma in the Soul Gentle Period. This new soul secret is to sing the Soul Tune "Love, Peace and Harmony." This Soul Tune was presented to me by the Divine in September 2005. Its lyrics are very straightforward:

I like my coronary heart and soul I like all humanity Sign up for hearts and soul together Love, peace and harmony Love, peace and harmony

The initially line, I like my coronary heart and soul, is to purify your soul, coronary heart, thoughts, and overall body. Heal the soul initially then healing of the thoughts and overall body will stick to. This initially line is a soul mantra to heal all of your sicknesses. It does get a ton of singing to restore your health from continual and lifestyle-threatening conditions, but it undoubtedly functions. This soul mantra is so powerful that it is further than one's comprehension. Love melts all blockages and transforms all lifestyle.

The next line, I like all humanity, is to offer you services to humanity. Serve other folks! The Divine will give advantage for your services. This advantage will spend your spiritual credit card debt. Lessons, blockages, and disasters owing to poor karma will be taken off. Sing I like all humanity from the bottom of your coronary heart. This soul mantra will carry a soul healing wave to humanity, Mom Earth, and all universes. It could greatly profit your karma cleansing. It may possibly get numerous many years to very clear your karma in this way, but this is even now a single of the most powerful approaches to very clear your have karma.

The 3rd line, Sign up for hearts and souls together, is a divine calling. To get in touch with is to serve. This calling will build good advantage to very clear your poor karma.

The fourth and fifth lines, Love, peace and harmony, state the intention of our services: to build like, peace, and harmony for humanity, Mom Earth, and all universes. This Soul Tune is straightforward, but it is a divine mantra for healing, lifestyle transformation, and soul enlightenment. It has good electricity for cleansing karma. You can stop by my site to hear to this Soul Tune. There I offer you a several minutes of this Soul Tune as a gift to humanity.

In March 2008 the Divine provided the soul of his Divine Soul Tune "Love, Peace and Harmony" as a Soul Transplant gift to all humanity and all souls. Your soul, everyone's soul, and each and every soul in the universe have gained this priceless long-lasting treasure for healing, rejuvenation, and lifestyle transformation. Here is how to exercise to receive the advantages of this divine gift:

Expensive soul, thoughts, and overall body of the Divine Soul Tune, "Love, Peace and Harmony," downloaded to my soul, I like you, honor you, and appreciate you. You should heal my _____ (make a ask for for your physical overall body, psychological overall body, mental overall body, or spiritual overall body). You should purify my soul, coronary heart, thoughts, and overall body. You should very clear my poor karma. You should rejuvenate my soul, coronary heart, thoughts, and overall body. You should rework my lifestyle, which includes my interactions and finances. You should enlighten my soul, coronary heart, thoughts, and overall body. I am very grateful. Thank you.

Then sing "Love, Peace and Harmony" for a several minutes with all your coronary heart and soul.

The for a longer period you sing, the far better.

You may possibly ponder. "Does this Soul Tune definitely have the electricity to do this?" My response is easy: Yes, of program! This Soul Tune has electricity further than phrases and views. In get to demonstrate this, I would like to share my private tale of how I gained this Soul Tune.

On Saturday, September ten, 2005, I visited the redwoods in Marin County, California, with a few of my highly developed pupils. A person of them questioned me, "Master Sha, could you request the Divine for a track for your mission?" I replied, "Of program! I am delighted to request for a track from the Divine." I elevated my arm to Heaven and said, "Expensive Divine, could you give me a Soul Tune for our mission?" Instantaneously, a beam of rainbow mild shot down from the Divine and went via my overall body from head to toe. I opened my mouth and these seems arrived out:

Lu La Lu La Li Lu La Lu La La Li Lu La Lu La Li Lu La Lu La Li Lu La Lu La Li Lu La

I experienced no concept what these seems intended, but I understood they were being in Soul Language, the universal language of all souls. I straight away questioned the Divine for a translation, which was presented to me in Chinese. Then, of program, I understood the exact this means in English as effectively.

Wo ai wo xin he ling Wo ai quan ren lei Wan ling rong he mu shi sheng Xiang ai ping an he xie Xiang ai ping an he xie

I like my coronary heart and soul I like all humanity Sign up for hearts and souls together Love, peace and harmony Love, peace and harmony

Then I questioned the Divine to give me a melody for these lyrics. Instantaneously, I gained it. I was so psyched to sing with my a few pupils. As we were being singing, a small girl about two or a few many years aged walked by. She was fascinated to hear to this initially Divine Soul Tune that I gained. She broke out into a major smile and elevated both equally arms earlier mentioned her head, shaking them, and building a very content sound-Yaaaay!!! A several minutes afterwards, she and her mother experienced walked a couple of hundred ft absent. We ongoing to sing with good joy. The girl was going for walks farther and farther absent. Out of the blue, she stopped, turned all-around to experience us, and elevated both equally palms once again, shaking both equally arms, and screamed Yaaaay!!! once again.

My pupils and I sang together for far more than an hour. We still left the redwoods and went to a beach front on the ocean. We were being singing the entire time. Hungry, we went into town to have supper at a crowded and well-liked restaurant. I held singing. Three waitresses stopped their perform and arrived to our table to hear to my singing. They stood there for a several minutes just listening, with out relocating or speaking. Last but not least, they questioned me, "What are you singing?" I explained, "I am singing a Soul Tune." They said, "It is gorgeous! We under no circumstances read of a Soul Tune before."

This tale shares how I gained my initially Soul Tune from the Divine. From that second, I started off to share this Soul Tune in each and every workshop and class I have taught all over the world. Wherever I go, I sing this Soul Tune. Wherever I train, I train this Soul Tune. Wherever I have the opportunity, I share this Soul Tune. I questioned the Divine to download this Soul Tune to all humanity and all souls. This Soul Tune is in your coronary heart and soul. It has provided extraordinary healing and lifestyle transformation to humanity. I have hundreds of pupils all over the world who frequently enjoy the CD of this Soul Tune in their properties or places of work to build divine feng shui.

I have taught my pupils that feng shui is crucial for lifestyle. Feng shui refers to the stability and movement of energy in a put. Feng shui practically signifies wind h2o. Wind is yang. Drinking water is yin. Feng shui is yin-yang movement. At the identical time, feng shui signifies the problem of the soul. Many people today analyze feng shui and adjust feng shui in properties and places of work. Commonly speaking, they are altering the energy. On the other hand, it is far more crucial to adjust the soul of the residence or office environment. Soul is the boss of lifestyle. Singing and actively playing a CD of the Divine Soul Tune "Love, Peace and Harmony" frequently can offer you healing, rejuvenation, and lifestyle transformation and build divine feng shui. I am really grateful that the Divine has presented this priceless treasure to humanity.

Of program, there are numerous other approaches to offer you services to other folks, these kinds of as volunteer perform. Give your like, care, and compassion to other folks. Donate your funds to struggle poverty and starvation. Give healing and teaching to people today all over the world. Transform the consciousness of humanity and far more. These are all approaches to very clear your have poor karma.

There is yet another special way to very clear your karma. The Divine can very clear your karma very swiftly. In July 2003 the Divine questioned me to offer you karma cleansing for humanity. When I offer you this karma cleansing services, I do not do the karma cleansing. The Divine does this services. The Divine chose me as the Divine's servant in July 2003. The Divine advised me, "You get in touch with me and I will heal. You get in touch with me and I will serve." The Divine offers all sorts of blessings, which includes Divine Soul transplants and karma cleansings. I request. The Divine blesses. I am really honored to be a servant of the Divine and humanity.

(Excerpt from The Electrical power of the Soul and reprinted with the permission of the creator, Dr. Sha).

(At first published at GoArticles and reprinted with permission from the creator, Dr. Sha).

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