#these are like fundamental dreams she takes almost as sacred

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Good morning still on my bullshit in spite of myself and thinking about how Taylor took the shit-talking about rings and cradles at face value (e.g at dinner you move my ring from my middle finger to the one people put wedding rings on and that’s the closest I’ve come to my heart exploding) because SHE took marriage and especially other thing so seriously and couldn’t fathom someone would talk about those things as a joke or a ploy because they were some of the most important things in the world to her which is part of why she fell so hard when someone started promising those things to her and 🥴

[yesimwriting]

All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know. 

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

--

ALEKSANDER. 

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate. 

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her. 

--

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.” 

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?” 

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?” 

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.” 

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.” 

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.” 

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.” 

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.” 

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.” 

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.” 

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.” 

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.” 

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you. 

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war. 

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct.  Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.” 

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag. 

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat. 

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly. 

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?” 

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.” 

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep. 

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful. 

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?” 

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful. 

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own. 

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--” 

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.” 

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?” 

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.” 

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers. 

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament. 

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...” 

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her. 

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.” 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

[thefandomlesbian]

angel (without counting your pets/animals you rescue), murky, joy, valentine, parchment and oasis for the pretty asks?

Angel: Is there anyone you'd do anything for?

My mom, probably. We have a very fractured, codependent relationship, I'm usually a slave to giving her whatever she wants from me, even when I know it's not what's best for her. (Bailing her out of jail, twice... Paying for her to get a memorial tattoo of my abuser after his death that she now hates... Lying on government forms for her benefit... You name it, I've probably done it.)

Murky: What's your greatest fear?

I dunno. Never finding love? Though I don't really mind being independent and most of my goals are not things other women would share with me. I guess more than never finding love, I'm afraid of finding love and losing it over irreconcilable differences.

Joy: Best feeling you've ever experienced?

The feeling of drinking a fresh bottle of Prairie Farms chocolate milk.

Valentine: Best gift you've ever received?

My abuser bought me a car when I was seventeen. Her name is Charlotte and she's still my transportation.

Parchment: Favorite book?

This changes with almost every book I read. My childhood loves, Harry Potter and Warriors, are at the top of the list. I can reread them many times and never get tired of them. A handful of Stephen King books, IT and The Dark Half and The Shining mainly. I have two of Rupi Kaur's books that I love. And I love The Feminine Mystique (Betty Friedan) and Why Does He Do That (Lundy Bancroft) for making me more critical of our patriarchal society—those are two pieces that every time I read them, I feel I take something new away from them.

Oasis: Dream destination?

This is gonna sound bizarre for someone my age, but...

I fucking hate traveling. I hate everything about it. I hate how people who travel think they're more enlightened than those of us who have planted our roots. I'm terrified of airports and airplanes. I hate traffic. I hate gas stations and public bathrooms. I hate hotels. I hate crowded urban cities and I fundamentally oppose the use of sacred Native grounds as tourist traps for wealthy white people. I think it's a waste of money and a waste of time, not to mention downright dangerous. I abhor travel restrictions on pets and how difficult it can be to travel with them or find safe boarding to leave them behind, especially for small animal owners like me (I know too many people whose small dogs and cats were mauled to death at the boarders—more than I can count on one hand). The only places I can ever imagine myself being happy are roughly where I live now in a rural setting with livestock, or maybe back to the Deep South where I was born if I'm going to inherit some family land with the same goal in mind—planting my roots and using my life to help animals in need. That's not something I would be able to do if I decided to travel the world instead.

So yeah, that's my dream destination. A future where I'm happy and blissful without seeing the seven wonders and without wanting to.

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Watcher as Companion: Eiheune

While I’m here, may as well do one of these for the new girl, too.

If your Watcher, or other Pillars OC, was a recruitable companion instead of the main character, how and where would they be introduced to the main party?

You’re first introduced to Eiheune “Hentzin” Manoi as a minor NPC at the Hall of Revealed Mysteries in Defiance Bay. She’s a cute, fun counterpoint to the seriousness of Grimda and her fellows. Maybe she helps you with an alternate method of liberating The Theories of Pandgram for Nedyn—or maybe she pranks her by having you pass along a book that turns out to be something else entirely.

Fast forward five years, and you’re taking a stroll through the Sacred Stair when hey, look, it’s that giggly aumaua again. She’s probably pissed off at least one of the other congregations by barging into their space and Waeling it up. Probably giving them an argument, too. As far as she’s concerned, Captain Stompy is a fine argument for her “sometimes the world makes no damn sense and we have to find our own answers��� philosophy, so when you turn out to be following him (which also means getting far away from the pissed-off Magranites/Gaunites/Berathians who are now looking at her funny), she can’t join you quickly enough. Besides, you said that thing was Eothas? Her Waelites do a lot of important teaching and scientific work back home, but they’ve never been the only game in town. She has friends in the Eothasian congregation. Time to get a closer look at what they see in him.

What would their companion quest involve?

Eiheune is part of the “I only wanted to do research!” squad along with her “sisters” Sikkerneq and possibly Clelia. So, you help her do some research, looking for Waelite texts and going on a pilgrimage to the Hall of the Unseen. What does she find there? Maybe a text that says something that gets to her, maybe a person she couldn’t help, maybe a shrine or dream that doesn’t feel the way she was expecting. Time to talk about what she’s doing and why and whether it’s the best choice.

What traits would affect their approval, positively or negatively?

Benevolent and Clever responses are the sovereign method of gaining her approval. Dourness, bluntness, and excessive gravitas put her off, and please try not to be too mean about the whole Waelite priestess thing. She does important work in between all the shenanigans.

Which other companions would they get along with, and which would they bicker with, in Party Banter?

In no particular order besides “I thought of these ones first”, as per usual:

She likes Edér quite a bit, at first. He’s fun, easygoing, and reminds her of some of her congregants back home, and the values and philosophy that underpin her priesting square up pretty neatly with those of Night Market!Edér, if she learns about the gods’ origins. Later on, once the party starts meeting orlans and he won’t shut the Hel up about his Opinions(tm) about them, she starts to wonder if he has a fetish or something. Good luck convincing her that he doesn’t. She still enjoys spending time with him, but dude is totally an orlan chaser. Anyway, she will absolutely be on hand to try and comfort him in her own Wael-tastic way after his quest. Whether it works, well, that’ll depend on a few things.

Aloth has exactly the sort of personality that makes it the least surprising thing in the world that he was mixed up with a Woedican organization. Eiheune doesn’t love it, but she can see where he’s in need of help. Even destroyer!Aloth is in for some well-meaning lectures.

Eiheune and Xoti make a real effort to be friends and support each other at first. The wheels come off pretty quickly when it turns out that their worldviews are fundamentally opposed—Xoti is 100% certain of everything Gaun wants from her and kith in general, and she wants nothing more than for everyone else to be equally certain of her rightness. Eiheune will not be able to resist rubbing it in when Xoti turns out to be quite wrong.

Maia is in for a lot of curious questioning about Rauatai; the Cuostei are more or less distant relatives of today’s Rauataians, and there’s been occasional intermarriage over the centuries, but Eiheune’s never actually been there.

Tekēhu is cute and fun but a little vapid for her tastes. At first. She comes around when it turns out he just needed more experience of the world to really set the gears turning in his head.

Serafen, over time, ends up becoming one of her best friends in the party, though he’s politely firm about not wanting to hear too much Wael stuff from her. She takes it well.

Pallegina is pretty much everything she dislikes, and it’s almost certainly mutual, but they can set aside their differences long enough to be curious together about the progress being made by animancers and other scientists.

Eiheune is pretty certain that Rekke is an actual gift from Wael—he’s sweet, attractive, up for shenanigans, full of interesting stories, and willing to talk religion without making her feel like she’s banging her head on a wall the way Xoti does. Ixamitl and Seki, if they’re not actually distant relatives, bear enough of a resemblance to each other to make it seem that way and give Eiheune an easier time of picking up a little of it while Rekke learns Aedyran, and in short order the two of them are discussing Wael only knows what in some kind of unholy Sekxamidyran hybrid.

She comes in for a bit of needling from Konstanten, because she’s a tiny baby who is silly and cute and enjoyable to gently poke fun at. She absolutely gives it back to him.

That is some attitude on Fassina. She is absolutely getting pranked the moment her back is turned. Nothing destructive, just a little signal to stop mistaking meanness for a personality.

Ydwin doesn’t get on with her for similar reasons to Pallegina. Eiheune puts a heroic effort into staying interested for the first five minutes of pompous lecturing and then can’t maintain it anymore.

Vatnir clearly needs help. Eiheune tried, she really did. Ugh, Rymrgand worshippers.

Would they be romanceable? Would they end up in a romance with another companion, if both were left unromanced (à la Maia & Xoti)?

So, uh, the whole aro thing. Her “romance” would function most like Serafen’s, if anything. It’s no skin off her nose if you want to call yourself her lover, but the label means nothing to her, and she doesn’t much care. And you sure as Hel don’t own her. Insist on monogamy at your peril.

I wasn’t kidding about the “fucking her way through the party” thing, either—she doesn’t understand “romance” as a separate category, its trappings make her uncomfortable, and as far as she’s concerned, sex is something you do with your friends. And these are nearly all her friends. (And hey, the only two other aumaua being a cis woman and a godlike means no worries about pregnancy!) She’s likely to sleep with (or at least offer to) pretty much all the men except for Vatnir (yes, even destroyer!Aloth in a particularly charitable moment, though grandmaster!Aloth is probably a bridge too far), plus Maia. Which of them are interested enough to take her up on her offer is another matter. And she doesn’t go back to Tekēhu more than once or twice, because their sexual personalities are badly incompatible.

Would anything make them leave the party, or would they be there for the long haul?

Tank her approval and her gentle trolling becomes mean-spirited mockery when she can’t just avoid you, but I think she’d be too invested in following this Eothas thing to the end to actually leave. Prepare to be hit with a quick Arkemyr’s Dazzling Lights and some loud swearing when you part ways after Ukaizo, though.

I’m going to take the liberty of adding a question of my own, since it’s something I’ve thought about: What would her approval conversations look like?

-1: She philosophizes pointedly about how kith deal with being wrong about major things.

-2: “Watcher, we...we need to talk. What in Eora are you doing? What is any of this meant to accomplish? What answer are you looking for?” Piss her off further and, while she won’t leave, she just might refuse to talk to you for the rest of the game.

+1: “Thanks for having me along. It’s been exciting. Eye-opening.” She giggles at her own pun. “Did I ever tell you about my ordination?” The story is rather on the nose at times; she’s blindfolded, stripped of her vestments, handed a “holy relic” that turns out to be a rusty watering can, and left in the middle of a labyrinth, which she has to traverse to get her clothes back before finding her way to the group of priests and acolytes to reveal to them the wisdom contained in the “relic”. True? Probably. You never quite know with Waelites.

+2: On the heels of a chat about your respective views on the whole situation out there, “You’re my friend, right? And with any luck, you will be for a long time. I want you to know that I do not love by halves. If you need something of me, if you want me to share your bed, you need only ask.” Perk up at the mention of bed-sharing to trigger her “romance”, or tell her “thanks but no thanks” to turn her down. Or berate her, if you’re a monster. And maybe her love comes with a gift, like Serafen’s—a scrap of handmade ribbon that she’s put a blessing on, wearable in the head or neck or maybe waist slot. Maybe as a trinket, if we really want to have fun. Of course she used her tablet-weaving skills to create an eye pattern, what do you take her for?

[jungdrizzydraco]

An O.C. for Your Asses!!!

I wanna see if the characters are legit before I move forward with this short story im working on (I'm a character first kinda guy, so I work inside-out) leave any form of constructive critique you wish, they are still works in progress, thanks!!

Augustine Harriet Andersson

Age:22

Sign: Gemini (sun) Cancer (moon) Virgo (rising)

Height: 5'8

Eye Color: Formerly dark-brown, bleached to a pastel-hazel because of some dark magic fuckery

Hair Color/Cut: dark-brown,q shifting variations of a fade, whose design changes somewhat based on his thoughts and emotions (yes, this is an enchanted fade)

Build: lean, lightly muscled from years lifting cauldrons in his grandfather's potion shop

Notable Features: Dimples; left-dimple is deeper than right, multiple piercings on each ear, artificial left eye (looks organic but to magical eyes, it looks otherwise)

"Have you ever been like...fundamentally angry? I feel that way...like at my core, there's this rage that seethes and coils at the pit of my stomach, everyday, like a python that can't quite squeeze his prey all the way to death. Everytime I think I've grown up, forgiven something or someone or myself, there's this anger that tightens right back up all over again...like it's reminding me of something. Somedays...I feel like that feeling will petrify everything I've ever loved about myself, and I'll just be another slave to outrage and ego and pain...just like everyone else...haha, then I'll really be a normie."  -August Andersson, on his depression and internal anger issues.

Augustine Andersson is a witch-boy. But you could probably already tell that from looking at him: the way his eyes are almost constantly fixed towards some unseeable infinity, the way air molecules hum with fresh, manic energy around him, how he seems to absorb sunlight and the way his brown skin would filter the glow as a result of his connection to the natural...it was all very off putting to others around him for most of his young adult life. And as we all know, no one likes a freak, so such years had a hand in building his current trust issues, feelings of great anger and inadequacy, and all the tics and tricks he uses to keep such feelings at bay. He's not at a total loss; at his core he is a humanitarian, deeply compassionate and available to those who have managed to capture his heart, as well as wild and humorous. However, he keeps a tight lid on his darkest feelings and insecurities, out of fear that they may be too much for those around him (also, he might accidentally call forth a vile arch-daemon on accident, but that's neither here nor there.) After finally having had enough of his mundane time amongst the humans, he vanishes from his college campus one day and takes to the open road, hoping that like the many young, angsty teens in the movies he loves, he will find himself in his own solitude. But the best way to deal with oneself is when confronting someone else, and after a close-call with a reckless (and very cute) motorcycle rider on an interstate, August will be forced to deal with every single part of himself, the good, the bad, and the strange...

A few more things about him...

1. His father is Afro-swedish, hence his last name.

2. Loves to travel and is nomadic by nature.

3. He gets a special kind of warmth out of being moderately petty at all times.

4. He loves open spaces and bodies of water, as well as hikes through mountains (ok so he only went once in Vegas, so sue him, he really liked it!)

5. Surprisingly low maintenance, really just likes being around people that are happy, and the feeling easily rubs off on him.

6. Both positive and negative emotions easily rub off on him.

7. Can get caught up in moments of warm content, given his unstable interior life, and can get lost in wasting/spending time.

8. Gets restless easily.

9. Budding film buff, faves include Kill Bill vol. 1&2, Her, Moonrise Kingdom, Gone Girl, Blue is the Warmest Color, Moonlight, & Mean Girls.

10. August's father is very engaged with politics and civil rights, so in honor of that, he decided that his son's middle name would belong to one of the greatest figures of the civil rights movement: Harriet Tubman.

11. Favorite new movie is The Favourite.

12. Due to a lack of acceptance of his full self and the full spectrum of his sexuality, he is judgemental of others and holds them to the same near-impossible standards he holds for himself. 

13. Things he expects from others: To read his mind and conjure what he wants without saying, to have his needs and boundaries respected without actually stating so, for others to fit in whatever box he thinks they should be in, for everyone's intellect to be slightly lower than his own, but high enough not to annoy him with silly questions, ect.

14. Listens to Lorde, J. Cole, Rex Orange County, Frank Ocean, Lana Del Rey, Tyler the Creator, Young Thug and assorted film soundtracks.

15. Enjoys playing into his double-sided nature when it suits him, and has a secret glee in melding into different roles depending on who's around him.

16. Is attracted to more eccentric personalities in platonic and romantic relationships

17. Smokes weed to escape boredom. (and his problems)

18. Smokes weed because he likes the feeling.

19. Is secretly a little ratchet, but he'll kill you if you say so, it'll fuck up his reputation as the quasi-sociopathic erudite.

Magic House-Thoth

Augustine is a member of the Sacred House of Life, witches whose magic is passed down from the Egyptian Gods themselves. August himself is a descendant of an African slave-witch, once known as Ashe. She was taken to Egypt as a typical piece of cargo from zealot raiders, and was sentenced to a life of building the pyramids. Or so she would have thought: Thoth, the God of Magic and Knowledge, took pity upon her and beguiled her to follow an invisible force into the desert one night. He then revealed himself to her in his ibis-headed brilliance and bestowed upon her a set of choices: he could free her now and set her loose across the desert with all the things she would need for survival, or he could give her secrets and wisdoms unknown to man at the time, but she would have to frequently return to him for lessons. Ashe always prized knowledge and growth over any material thing, or even something such as freedom (I prefer to disagree myself). And secrets from a God must count for that much more, right? She indulged in option two. Thoth grinned and whispered to her the mysteries of life, the secrets of the stars, and the riddles of worlds lost and intangible, he spoke magick into her very soul. She would then use her newfound knowledge to fool her captors, freed any slave that would believe in her, and with her wits about them, guided them across the desert to build a library-like sanctuary, in honor of Thoth. The former slaves then learned from the god's teachings, passed through Ashe, and became witches and educators in their own right, and Ashe came to lead this new coven of magi. This is how the House of Thoth became to be. 

Magick: As a member of house of Thoth, August has the ability to manipulate various aspects of the moon, writing, hieroglyphics, knowledge and sciences, and the progression of time. His particular specialty is the creation of Moon Dust, a substance used as a medium for most of his spells. By gathering various quantities of mineral, be it: crystal, rocks, pearls, aluminum, or even silvers and golds, he can channel his magic into them and break down and rearrange their atomic components into a corrosive, abrasive substance that also tends to stick to objects due to an electric charge. This dust is also dangerous to breathe in. He tends to carry around a pouch or two on his person, as trying to create some on the fly is nearly impossible given how much time and intricacy is needed to create the substance. (I mean, working with just a pile of plain old rocks would take a couple of hours to convert, let alone harder or more distilled substances.) Spells that he has mastered so far include...

Spell of Refraction: A spell in which the moondust bonds to whomever or whatever August desires (sans the harmful effects, it's enchanted in this state) and whatever is enveloped in dust turns invisible via light refraction.

Spell of Revelations: He can spread his moondust over an area and have the pieces cling to imprints of negative emotion or dark magick. A spell used for forensic work.

Spell of Retribution: An offensive spell that uses moondust to its fullest offensive powers and creates small funnels of dust to ravage the opponent. The largest funnel made could surround a fully grown man.

Golemancy:  Can create golems out of the moon dust he has formed, usually no larger than a human toddler. They tend to take form roughly resembling lego-men (he was a big fan of the Lego Expanded Universe as a child), but one can easily be fooled by their size: each golem has the strength of three men, and can combine to further power themselves up.

There are a few spells that don't require the moon dust...

-The Veil: A surface-level illusion layered directly over the skin. This allows the caster to look like whatever he wants to look like and sound however he wants, but can be broken if struck with bad intentions (like a slap from an offended woman on the street)

 -Somnus: A very old, yet practical spell. Also one that does not require moondust, this handy spell induces sleep.  Those affected by this spell will not remember being forced to sleep, but they will have active and vivid dreams for distraction. Also necessary for Dream Diving.

-Dream Diving:  A skill Augustine has yet to master, this allows the caster to astral project into one's consciousness for complete access to the afflicted parties mind, if the brain is distracted by dreams. August has gotten stuck in several public nude dreams, and it takes long hours to remove oneself from another's mind.

-Illusion Casting 

-Temporary Madness Inducement

-Script Magick: By writing down a word or phrase on any surface that can be sufficiently marked on, whatever has been written manifests somehow, just so long as it is within his power. He can't create miracles with it though.

Top 10 Roadtrip Songs

Sobriety- Sza

No Role Moldelz-J. Cole

Sacrifices -Dreamville, assorted artists

Grown Up Fairy Tails- Chance the Rapper, Taylor Bennett 

My Boy-Billie Eilish

U.N.I.T.Y.- Frank Ocean

West Coast: Lana Del Rey

Cruise Ship-Young Thug

400 Lux-Lorde

Let Em Know- Bryson Tiller

[kurtty-drabbles]

“I was dreaming of bigger things.” (Evil Wizard AU)

@djinmer4

Soundtrack for this

This is what Kitty was wearing

N/A: going to use that what if idea.

There an old saying that among all the 7 kingdoms, Kaledon is the pillar that keeps the others in order, if Kaledon falls…everyone falls too. The kingdom with such importance would only warrant more enemies. Therefore, it shouldn’t be a surprise that the Demonic Necromancer attack Kaledon in the most painful way.

The king and queen of this country have problems to conceive. And when the first and only son was born, they have to pray and thank Zaorva and all the entities for this miracle, now, with the prince held captive by the Demonic Necromancer there´s a problem of an heir.

You see, the king and queen have no families alive and once they die, no one is sure who will take the throne, maybe Corona or Genosha, either way, when they die the peace of the seven kingdoms will go with them.

The Demonic Necromancer is asking for a ransom, the problem is the price is far too high, punishment for trying to save the prince by hiring the mightiest heroes who failed(one can only assume what the Demonic Necromancer did with the heroes)

“Jonas! is our son, please pay whatever this monster wants”

“Glinda, if I pay him, the kingdom will be with serious financial problem and I will have to increases the taxes to the max. I don´t know what to do”

There a suggestion that if the worst comes by, they can fake pregnancy on the queen(a second miracle) as they take a random kid and trains him to be the next heir. The queen rejects this idea, the king…not so much.

_________________________________________

Margarida is one of the many maids that work in the royal castle, in fact, she is the head maid, and was so proud when her only son, Maveric, was chosen to be the henchman of one of the most loyal Prince Damien´s knight. The prince is a fair man and his knight follow the lead, never treating people like Maveric like they aren´t worth to walk in the same ground as them.

Of course, when Prince Damian was captured, his entire entourage was captured as well, and Margarida´s only son is there. The woman knows the king and queen won´t lift a finger to save a mere henchman, and this breaks her heart. No, this makes the woman mad.

A crown in your head does not mean you are superior nor that her son does not deserve a rescue party as well. She goes to Zaorva´s temple and weeps and begs for Zaorva to help.

“Please, he is my only son, and I know that monster will kill my baby if he didn´t already murder him” Margarida cries until someone lower herself to Margarida´s level(the woman was in the floor at this point)

“Hi, I work in this temple, I couldn´t help by hearing your prayers, I apologise for that, but I think I can help you”

“Please, don´t make fun of this old woman, that monster is far too powerful”

“Have faith, my friend, I have Zaorva´s grace on my side and I vow to rescue your son, A vow made in this temple is sacred and I won´t fail”

_______________________________________________

Kurt Wagner is pleased, far too much pleased. Having the king and queen of Kaledon pondering the decisions and witnesses the others kingdoms looking in fear, after all, if Kurt can do this with one kingdom, the powerful Kaledon, what is in the store for Genosha?

Diplomacy does not work anymore as the heroes try to trick him, a pretty woman is nice, but, the power he holds against the 7 kingdoms is way more erotic, besides, he detests red hairs.

By all and all, the Prince and his entourage are safely in his dungeons. Sometimes, Kurt goes visit them. They fear the Demonic Necromancer to the point is almost cute, Kurt almost didn´t see a small henchman crying and judging by the looks of his outfit, he is not noble.

“When you will let us go?” The Prince bravely asked.

“When your father decides how much you worth”

That is the only replies the man gives before a big sound was head outside his dungeons and his undead army, once Kurt leave the dungeons, to witness another undead army battling against his own.

And a woman with a blue dress walking with a bit of bored expression. Who is she?

_______________________________

Kitty enters the castle and was greet by one of the living servants who takes his orders. A man with a big axe is ready to strike Kitty when the woman merely speaks in a straightforward tone.

“Drop the axe, and go away” the man did so. And these patterns repeat with all the others who try to stop Kitty, she asked one of them where the Prince and the others are.

“Oh, I was in the wrong way, I hate when this happens,” Kitty said and order the other living servant to take her to where the prince was, many seals were deactivated.

Until she finally reaches to where the Prince is, however, her main concern is not the future ruler of Kalendon.

“Where is Maveric?” Kitty asked and a shy hand lifts up and the woman offers a kinder smile “I´m here, your mother sends me to bring you back” then she looks at the expression of the others and speaks in a soothing tone “I´m here to bring you all back”

As the group is ready to leave no one couldn´t hide their screams as the Demonic Necromancer shows up in all his blue and furry glory. Kitty, for her part, is the only one who didn´t as much raise one eyebrow or look remotely impressed.

“WHO ARE YOU?”  Kurt asked not recalling any hero with her face.

“Oh, dear, shouting at a pretty woman won´t gain you any favours, now, please, be a dear and let us walk away” Kurt looks horrified as he let Kitty and the others walk away.

Her undead army only leaves, vanishing into thin air, when Kitty and the others are far away from his domains.

“Damian stop look at me like that, we are not codfish” Kitty demolishes the Prince and no one dares to say anything.

_______________________________________

Kaledon, received a huge blow in their ego when a woman in blue dress values saving a mere henchman more than the future leader of the kingdom.  To the point, she makes the king and queen wait as she delivers Maveric to Margarida. Only then, the prince is brought back home.

“Stop looking at me like that, we are not codfish,” Kitty said to the king “now, you will have to explain for your son, why he has a new brother”

Kaledon will never be the same.

_____________________________________

Kurt is shivering, the other servants didn´t dare to come closer of him. The man is shivering in excitement and that´s never a good sign. Another necromancer in equal power as him? This is not good news.

“What´s her name?” Kurt manages to get information, by the good old torture ways, and the information was scarce, to say the least, all he got is a name.

“Kitty Pryde, Oh, she uses her real name? I don´t if this is stupid or brilliant” and searches for more shreds of evidence. No kingdoms were taken down, at least, not in his style. Then it hits Kurt, searching for a necromancer like him won´t help as the woman show to have different motivations.

(Going out of her way to save a henchman?)

Then he starts to look for others signs, something discreet and smiles when one of his servants relates the curious case of Romery. A city- Estate(that would never interest Kurt) who used to hate mutants with a passion now speaks in love and cooperation.

_________________________________________

Kitty did enter in Romery knowing full well how and what these people think of mutants, so, the woman saw no problem in fixing some stuff. The mayor, the council, the leaders, the parents, the teachers and even the children hear a persuasive talk and suddenly, the conversation about killing all the mutants turns into “let the Marlocks stay here, it is their home”, “Mutants deserve death” change to “equal rights for mutants”.

But of course, changing a prejudice and racism that was so fundamentally rooted in their souls, has their prices as he townsfolks need to complain and hate something else. And suddenly, Kitty, an unmarried woman who works as “mercenary” is not a good sight for them. At least for the old people, the young generation has no problem with Kitty´s occupation.

(She could make them all bumbling fools, but that never work out well)

The woman often likes to walk among Romery and see the change, she could stay here for a while, how long would people in this town starts to wonder about her age. No one has 21 forever.

“I can worry about that later” Kitty gives a lazy smiling pondering if she should work here or not, many of her tours are famous amongst the youngsters. “You know, this city is really lovely”

“I agree” a new voice joins as the Demonic Necromancer shows up in a scarlet robe smiling at her. No one enters in panic as Mutants are equal to them now. And even if they could have entered in a panic state to the sight of Kurt, they don´t have defences.

“What are you doing here?” Kitty jump away from him as the man gives a smirk and watches fascinates as a green light appears in her right hand “ do you came here to destroy or talk?”

“My, my. So jumpy, no, Katzchen” Kurt speaks again with a tender tone now “I just want to look at my new edition” noticing her confusion the man continues “You see, Romery is between Genosha and Esther and while many thought it was a boring city, I beg to differ, this suddenly changes on their attitude on mutants make me see them with a new eyes”

“And I conquer Esther and add Romery, now, think about, this small city wouldn´t last much without the resources of the kingdoms like Esther, Romery is lovely but it is lacking in education and in health care” Kurt speaks and Kitty bites her lips now as she never considers this until now.

“Then what this means?” Kitty asked wondering what´s his point.

“It means since you are one of the citizens, my citizen, and we will see each other more often now” the last part was spoken with a gleam in his golden eyes.

Kitty ponders about her situation. She can´t say no, she can´t run away.  And it hurts that Kurt´s words have merit, she only wanted to be in the city for the aesthetic, never consider how the city is fairing.

"Very well, guess we´ll see each other after all, which name should I call you?”

“Kurt Wagner is fine”

“Do you want a tour?”

“It will be nice to see the city by your eyes this time” Kurt merely smirk as Kitty rolls her eyes. From that day on, Romery´s fate is changed forever

[ravimyneni]

Reasons why we must get rid of IIT-JEE

The entrance process is such that IITs produce one-dimensional graduates who may not even be interested in the subjects they gave many years of their life to.

We should get rid of the IIT-JEE. Given the iconic status of the IITs and the resulting craze for its famed entrance exam in India, this statement may come across almost as blasphemy.

But IITs are scientific institutions, and the tradition of science is to hold nothing sacred and examine everything through the less of evidence.

Radical as it may sound, this sentiment has been gaining ground of late. The HRD ministry mooted a proposal to radically reform the IIT-JEE by even dismantling the JEE-Advanced, the flagship exam for the IITs. That proposal, however, was shot down by the IIT council a couple of months back. This rigidity to re-examine, introspect and improve oneself is alarming, and that is indeed the root cause of many of the flaws of this celebrated exam.

 The test has been gamed by coaching centers

When a high-stakes exam, watched closely by millions of people, is not redesigned for years, the stakeholders manage to decipher it completely.

 Coaching centers have figured out the typical problems given in the exam, built a library of similar problems, and approaches to solving them.

Lakhs of students take the IIT-JEE every year. It is the gateway to the dream destination for those students, the source of the ultimate bragging right for millions of their parents, and the fountain of unlimited riches for the coaching centers. With so much at stake, it’s no wonder that the exam is watched closely and patterns of its questions analyzed in great detail.

On top of that, the exam has not seen any radical redesign. Originally a single-phase exam, it was split between JEE-Mains and JEE-Advanced some years ago, but the main focus of the exam — testing high-level problem-solving abilities based on quantitative sums drawn from Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics — has remained the same over the past 30 years or so.

With so many interested parties avidly scrutinizing the broadly unchanged exam for the past few decades, is it really a surprise that the exam no longer remains a test for raw brainpower?

The coaching centers have already figured out the typical problems given in the exam, built a huge library of similar problems, and approaches to solving them. They start drilling those problems and solutions in the students’ head from early years, often from as early as Class 8.

So what was once a test of intelligence (of the quantitative kind, admittedly) has become more of a test of how much money you can spend to access the best coaching centers, and how early you start your single-minded pursuit of this dream (or nightmare?).

 The test has become so difficult so as to render it meaningless

If too many students compete for an exam and start preparing from an early age, it breeds an arms race. The same level of questions that separated students of different abilities ten years ago will cease to do so now — because everyone is simply more prepared to handle those questions. The questions need to become increasingly difficult to differentiate between students.

This is compounded by the fact that IIT-JEE tests skills in a narrow area — quantitative problem-solving in Physics, Chemistry, and Math. It is possible for a student to attain a high level of mastery in a narrow area. With so many students attaining near-perfect competence in one narrow domain, the test must, over the years, become much, much more difficult to retain its ability to select — which is exactly what happened over the years.

  If too many students compete for an exam and start preparing from an early age, it breeds an arms race.

Instead, if the test evaluated wider (and possibly unrelated) skill sets — for example, quantitative skills, reading skills, and social skills — it would have been difficult for students to master all of those to a certain level of perfection; and differentiation would have been possible through even a moderately challenging test.

 It breeds unidimensional professionals

As a result of focusing so narrowly during the formative years of learning, millions of students are ignoring important skills needed for success at the workplace and in life.

In IIT-factories of Kota, and in similar cram-schools all over India, students are learning Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics at the exclusion of all other skills necessary for success.

In future, they are often handicapped by an inability to read, write or speak at a level needed for professional success. They often lack nuanced social and historical awareness needed to become vibrant members of the society. Working solo with their textbooks for many years, they often underappreciate the value of teamwork and collaboration.

The comeuppance sometimes comes mid-career, when these unidimensional professionals cannot progress to managerial levels.

Sometimes, the day of reckoning comes sooner, as they get rejected in numerous interviews right at the beginning of their career due to the lack of ability to express themselves.

Sure, one can argue that many IITians become successful corporate leaders and entrepreneurs. However, that’s a tiny fraction of the graduates IITs churn out — most remain anonymous cubicle-dwellers in mid-level positions.

 Students training for just one exam from early in life lack social and historical awareness needed to become vibrant members of the society.

Given that the IITs pretty much get to choose the best from lakhs of school-leaving students, should we, as a nation, be happy with only a few success stories? Shouldn’t such ‘chosen elites’ have left a much stronger imprint, both in scientific domain and elsewhere?

 The difficulty level of IIT-JEE makes studying in IIT redundant

To stay ahead of the coaching centers and to be able to differentiate between intensely prepared students, IIT-JEE now has to necessarily pose notoriously difficult sums to the aspirants. This simply meant that the level of sums posed has become more advanced, rather more inventive or creative.

While the exam theoretically stays within the prescribed syllabus, most of the problems posed in IIT-JEE are practically college-level sums. Even when I studied for IIT-JEE around 25 years back, the recommended Physics books for preparation were Fundamentals of Physics by Resnick and Halliday, and Problems in General Physics by I E Irodov: both college-level calculus-based physics books. I presume things have gotten only more difficult since then.

Now the question is: what is the value of a college education if you are expected to study a lot of college-level stuff just to get there?

 A college entrance exam should test interest

IIT-JEE fails miserably here. College admission processes in most advanced countries, notably in the US, check for the aspirant’s demonstrated an interest in the college as well as the intended major. IIT-JEE, however, does nothing of that sort.

Lakhs of students, through unthinking herd mindset, pursue a dream that’s not really theirs. Many, after reaching their dream place, become disenchanted and end up switching careers to pursue MBA. For some, the frustration leads to drug abuse. Some end up committing suicide. Even students who plod on and finish their degrees do not end up doing anything remotely related what they studied in IIT.

Such mismatches happen because unlike most other college admission processes, IIT-JEE restricts itself to a written exam, without any test of interest. Everyone knows that people are most productive when he or she works on areas that he or she are interested in. By not checking for this obvious area, IIT-JEE indirectly helps breed a discontent workforce.

 For IITs, IIT-JEE is the hammer, and everything looks like a nail

I was delighted when a few IITs decided to offer a BS in Economics a few years back. Our society’s economic understanding is quite limited, which pulls us down. People from all strata of society fall for Ponzi schemes, unable to understand the relationship between risk and return. Most people do not appreciate the importance of copyrights and patents, hindering innovation and progress. In addition, common masses have a fetish for free goods that the government doles out, not knowing that there is no free lunch.

I thought an economics course at the IITs could go a long way to make our society more economically literate. However, that hope was soon belied, because I saw the selection process for this course is the same old IIT-JEE.

Yes — you heard it right, one has to master quantitative Physics, Chemistry and Math to be eligible to study economics, a discipline requiring vastly different skill sets.

 Shouldn’t such ‘elites’ have left a much stronger imprint, both in the scientific domain and elsewhere?

Not only that, those Economics graduates need to study all the common first-year engineering courses, including electrical circuits and mechanics of deformable bodies! Nothing can be more ill-conceived than that.

Solution: A standardized test

So, if IIT-JEE has outlived its utility, what could be the way forward? A clear solution is a standardized, skill-oriented exam like SAT or ACT. Almost all US universities accept SAT or ACT scores as one of their key admission criteria. Such a system will obviate the need for multiple selection processes and entrance examinations in India, reducing student burden significantly.

As such exams test a wide range of skills (reading, critical thinking, analysis of science and social sciences, problem-solving, writing), it will also make our learning more skill-oriented.

We may argue that the cost of SAT is prohibitive for most Indians. If that is so, we can develop our own home-grown version. Skeptics may also reason that a standardized test like that does not test aptitude in subjects like Physics or Chemistry, so how will an elite engineering institute like IIT select students through such an exam?

Well, top-ranked scientific institutions of the world, including MIT and Caltech, use precisely this test to admit their students.

A person who is widely read can communicate well through writing and can critically evaluate issues can become more successful as an engineer or scientist as opposed to one who has only a narrow mastery over a small range of subjects.

We Indians take our exams very seriously. The only way to get the nation to focus on skill building is to incorporate it into the exam system.

If we are really serious about addressing our skill-shortage, if we want our future generations to cope with the rapidly changing world, we must reform our exam system radically, and urgently.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 46

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 46 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

Len follows the Time Masters.

It's not like he's found any other leads in this desolate place, and as long as he glides along purposefully, looking nobly distracted with serious questions about life, the universe, and everything, no one questions the presence of yet another robed figure.

Distraction is a pretty easy look to pull off.

Mick.

Fuck, Len knew this whole thing was a bad idea. He's known this was a bad idea from the beginning, this whole time travel bullshit, but coming here – Len knew this job was snake-bit cursed, and like a total idiot he went in on it anyway.

Getting swept up in ghosts and Time Masters and angels is no excuse for forgetting the fundamental principles of the job, and number one, above all else, is: if it feels like it's going bad, it almost certainly is, and that means it's time to jump ship.

Everyone always talks about how superstitious sailors are. In Len's opinion, they've got it no worse than thieves.

Mick.

Len has to remind the part of himself crying out for his partner that Mick's an adult – and more than that, a ghost, a powerful poltergeist, nearly a century old – and that he's perfectly capable of handling himself. If Mick left, and Len’s got to assume that he left voluntarily, it's probably because of that damn dream of his. And because of those damn time puppies.

Besides. Len can handle himself without ghosts, and Mick knows that. It's...unusual for Mick to ditch Len in the middle of a job, but it's not necessarily unheard of. Len's good at his job, with or without ghosts. With or without his partner.

The fact that he strongly prefers with is irrelevant.

Len’s so incredibly tempted to break his own rule on radio silence and call for Mick over the comms, but without evidence of any wrongdoing beyond Mick wandering off, he knows he can’t. It’s his own rule – he knows it, Mick knows it, Jax knows it.

A moment’s worry about a crew member, even a partner, doesn’t qualify as an emergency sufficient to break radio silence unless there’s an actual reason to believe something’s gone wrong.

Len hates his rule.

The group of Time Masters surrounding Rip split off from the Hunters, who start ushering the ghosts into what are clearly holding cells.

Len lingers for half a minute – he knows that the information he's looking for will be with the Time Masters, not here, and he can at least comfort himself with the fact that those are definitely holding cells and probably not whatever the hell they used to make people into Hunters, but he can't help the moment of worry for ghosts carrying themselves with the unfamiliar weight of solid flesh – and he hears one of the Hunters scoff and say, "Where'd they even pick you up? And why?" at Parvati.

That clinches a suspicion Len's been nursing as he's followed them all this way, watching the way the Hunters have been treating the ghosts – not like ghosts at all, but rather like people, like thieves, like no threat at all.

Parvati's eyes flash white – less a sign of power here than of sheer ghostly rage – but it's only a split second before it fades away again, drained out by the force of this place.

The Hunter doesn't notice.

Len's not surprised. If the Hunters are too mindless to properly identify the ghosts as ghosts, then obvious signs are clearly lost on them.

No, whatever they’ve managed to accomplish, the Time Masters are clearly still terrible mediums.

It's not necessarily a comfort to know that his plan would've worked if this place wasn't cursed or whatever the hell is going on with it, but it's good to know.

But in the end, there's nothing he can do about the ghosts' predicament for now. Len has to assume the ghosts will be fine – though he desperately wants to know where Svetlana is; hopefully she escaped? – and leave them where they are. Rescuing them now would blow his cover wide open, and it doesn't look like they'll suffer anything worse than cages for now.

The mission takes precedence.

So Len follows Rip, instead.

The Time Masters - one walking in the lead with Rip, flanked by three others - are clearly so confident that Rip won't resist them that they go so far as to dismiss the Hunters entirely.

That seems to surprise Rip.

"What, Rip?" the head Time Master – the same one who called the Matron about the alarm, who goes by the name of Druce, and Len thinks he might even be the one that tried to ambush Rip in the forest way back towards the beginning – asks, looking smug. "Did you think you are nothing more than a prisoner, my friend?"

He puts a friendly hand on Rip's arm.

"I- I mean - I broke the rules," Rip stammers. "As you pointed out when we last met."

"Ah, yes," Druce says, his voice still smug and condescending with the assumption of victory. "But before you did not know the truth. Once you see the truth, you will understand everything we have sought to do here, why we have done all the things we have done, made all the sacrifices we had to make." He smiles. "That is why I dismissed the Hunters. These are matters for Time Masters only."

Len wonders spitefully if they're taking Rip to the large antechamber he'd seen earlier, clearly designed for either show trials or ritualized murder. For all of Druce's pretty words about dismissing the Hunters, there are still three hooded Time Masters following them, and they're clearly there to keep an eye on Rip.

"You really are working with Savage," Rip whispers, something in Druce's manner making him believe it, really believe it at last. Perhaps it was Druce's slick, unashamed demeanor. "My family..."

"We warned you against unnecessary emotional involvements," Druce says. His voice is warm, friendly. He's charismatic and he thinks it'll get him everywhere. Len hates that type of guy. "It was for your own sake, Rip. We tried to spare you this pain."

"You caused me this pain!"

"Yes, we did. But it was in the service of a higher cause," Druce says.

"For what?" Rip demands. "For the timeline?! What, are you going to tell me that there's some devastating attack on humanity that only this course of action could prevent? What could it possibly be? Savage is a tyrant –"

"Rip, Rip, Rip," Druce says. "Please, be calm."

"If you had an argument as to why Savage's evil should've been permitted to flourish and take root throughout the world, you could have just told me," Rip says, no longer yelling, but his voice filled with hurt. "There was no reason to – to – to kill my family."

"You think too small, my friend," Druce says. "The timeline – yes, the timeline is sacred. But there are still higher causes."

Rip stares at Druce, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He clearly hadn't expected that.

"I will show you," Druce says.

He takes Rip – and Len, drifting close behind but not too close to be noticed – to a remote outpost of the station, down long, grey corridors that all look the same.

The actual place Druce is headed to is actually a building a little outside of the main complex, surrounded by some sort of pseudo park. If parks were soulless collections of bushes put in place to make people regret being alive, anyway.

Really, the fact that Len, a city boy to the bone, has started criticizing horticultural design says everything you need to know about these people...

Of course, all that open space makes it a little more difficult for Len to follow along.

A little.

Not much.

Besides, now that they're out in the park, Len can observe that the building isn't even actually really an outpost: it's actually connected to the rest of the complex by a long corridor leading straight through it from the other side, which means that Druce just chose to go the scenic route for some reason. Worst case scenario, Len can double back and go down that route. But Len is far from needing to fall back on the worst case scenario.

Druce also unhelpfully leaves the other Time Masters as guards at the door to the outpost, but ye old "throw a rock to distract them with a noise" gag – surprisingly useful even outside of movies – works like a charm and he can slip inside.

Of course, it's only once Len's inside the building that he gets the sickening twist of nausea building up in his stomach, the horrible feeling of wrongness, of horror, of suffering, of – he doesn't know what to call it, not really, but it feels the same as being filled up with the insane angel's rotting energy. Wrong, and sick, and Len hates it immediately.

"– is that?" Rip is asking, gagging.

"You become accustomed to it, in time," Druce says soothingly, like that's not the most horrible thing that could be said about the place. Sure, you can acclimate to horror – but why would you? Willingly, even?

They're not even all the way inside yet, either; it's a small entrance room. Druce's waiting for Rip to get over himself before they pass through the internal door at the other end.

Len does not want to go through that door.

He doesn't think he has a choice in the matter.

Those goddamn time puppies had better know what they're about, sending Mick on this horrible mission.

Mick, who is – somewhere.

Mick, who can handle himself, damnit.

"Feeling better?" Druce asks after a few minutes of Rip composing himself.

"No," Rip says bitterly, but it's obvious he's not as bad off as he was when they first came in. "What is this place? I never knew of it."

"It's our holiest of holies," Druce says, smiling and calm. Len imagines that genocidal war criminals smile the way Druce is smiling right now, utterly oblivious to the blasphemies against basic humanity spilling from their lips. "We call it the Oculus."

"The Oculus?" Rip echoes.

"Oh, yes," Druce says, and he opens the door. "Our friend Savage, though, he has a different name for it."

The second that door cracks open, Len is rooted to the spot. He can't run, he can't hide, he can't maintain his cover; the only thing saving him is that Druce and Rip aren't looking back.

"He calls it a Well of Souls," Druce says, and steps through into the screams.

A Well.

The angel had spoken of a well, a pit, a valley –

Come to think of it, Len's mother had mentioned a valley the few times she'd lost her temper enough to curse in front of him - Gehenom, she called it, the valley of lost spirits, the word that when it was converted to English was mistranslated as Hell.

Len's not so sure, anymore, that it's a mistranslation.

They're screaming.

Those of them that can, anyway.

Not all of them can, though, and that's the real horror of it.

Ghosts.

So many ghosts.

Len fancied himself capable of calling armies of ghosts – he was an idiot.

This is more than an army. Numbers uncounted, numbers uncountable, more than Len's worst nightmares as a child could have even conceived of.

Len can't even see them all. The ones at the edges – Len uses the term lightly – swirl around in furious madness, trying to escape, pulled in inexorably despite pulsing with power.

And at the center –

Infinity.

A shining white light at the core, the color of ghostly rage and pain, ghosts entrenched and centered as if frozen in ice, ghost upon ghost upon ghost until they've lost all definition, boiled down to their very essence and nothing more.

It’s an abomination.

There are more dead here than there are currently living in the world. Add to that alternative histories, timeline changes, history itself, and the number of dead is truly endless. A ghost should move on, Len has always held that truism close to his heart; no matter how much he likes one or wishes one would stay, what's best for them is to move on.

And he's always lived by that, too, for all of them except for Mick, who laughed in Len's face when he tentatively suggested it, who promised that they would pass on together and who wouldn't take no for an answer, who is not here –

Focus.

Focus, Len, you need to focus or they're going to see you.

Len grits his teeth and scans the area for a hiding spot. There aren't really any good ones, but ducking behind a slight curve in the wall seems to work well enough. Druce is staring at the center of the Well - a glowing light emerging out of a pit buried beneath the building, with some sort of platform on top of it - as if entranced, and Rip's head keeps swiveling between Druce and the Well as if he were a bobble-head doll.

Len can scarcely look at it. He can scarcely look away.

He mostly just wants to throw up.

The ghosts, normally attuned to Len's presence, haven't noticed him yet, which is one small piece of luck. Len hates having to count luck in the pain of others, but they're far too frenzied to pay attention, even to him.

Or perhaps it's that they know that they could bleed him dry and it still wouldn't be enough power for them to break free of this ghastly pit.

God, king of the world, who would do something like this?

And why?

"What is it?" Rip asks, breaking Druce's almost ecstatic contemplation of the horror that is the Well, but Druce is only put off for a moment – the briefest hint of a snarl, wiped away almost as soon as it's formed – and then he's turning to Rip, all smiles and smoothness and as if that small break in his façade had never happened.

But it had, and Len's lived in the slums too long not to know what a man forced away from his addiction looks like.

"We call it the Oculus," Druce tells Rip, charisma back in full force, the charming teacher once more. "It's a wellspring of time itself - a quirk of the timestream that captures spirits in the moment before their passing –"

More than a moment. Much, much more than a moment.

"– and gathers them here, where the power of their lost lives pools together into a powerful core. It offers unimaginable possibilities – to look into time, not as visitors in the time stream, but as true masters of it. From where we stand, we can change the very flow of time itself."

"Then – that's why," Rip says, his voice strained. "That's why I couldn't rescue my family. That's why we couldn't kill Savage! You were stopping us the whole time, from here! Using this!"

"That's correct," Druce says.

"But we got close," Rip says. "Closer than you’d like. The Hunters – the time in the 1950s –"

Again, that flash of a snarl, followed by composure.

"The Oculus is a delicate tool," Druce says smoothly. "We can influence the very circumstances of events, but individuals can sometimes disrupt even the most finely calibrated adjustments."

Len translates that as meaning that the Oculus is all well and good, but free will is still free will. Good to know.

Druce doesn't seem like the sort of person who appreciates the philosophical niceties of free will, though. No, anyone who would look at the tortured ghosts of the Well and think not of helping them but of using them, and not just using them, but using them to try to subjugate time itself for his own ends –

Well. Len has words for that sort of person, but none of them are fit for polite company.

Rip's mind seems have been working along different lines. "You say it works by – by capturing the power of spirits?" he asks.

"It does," Druce says.

Rip looks around. "They're screaming," he says, very faintly.

Len shudders. If Rip – who is generally oblivious to any ghosts but the two that haunt his mind – can see the ghosts of the Well, then they must be visible to anybody. Their pain on display for all.

"Hardly," Druce says dismissively. "That sound is merely the by-product of the Oculus' working. Here, let me show you a mere taste of its power."

Len has to swallow the instinctive cry of denial. Stay hidden, he reminds himself. This is why you're here. You need to fix this.

No matter what.

Fuck, this must be why the ghosts are visible here, in the Vanishing Point; they're close enough to be affected.

Maybe even to be drawn in.

Mick –!

Mick is still outside, Len reminds himself. Mick is still safe. Right now you need to stay hidden, and watch, and learn, and once they are gone, you can figure out a way to destroy this thing.

Len finds he talks to himself a lot more, without ghosts around. He's not sure he likes it.

Druce, meanwhile, has pulled a lever or two to move the platform above the center of the Well, what he calls the Oculus, around so that it extends out a bridge from that platform straight to their feet. On the platform is some sort of giant hulking machine, and the infinite brightness of the Well pours out from beneath the platform, and as far as Len can tell the only way on and off is that newly extended bridge, an extremely narrow bridge that Len can see is shaking with the power of ghostly hands trying to disrupt it.

Druce walks over it without paying the slightest bit of attention.

Rip looks more dubious.

"Rip, my old friend," Druce says, turning. "Come now. You never used to be this cowardly."

That hits Rip right where Druce aimed it, making Rip puff up in annoyance and march forward across the bridge.

Druce looks smugly pleased at his successful manipulation; Rip, when he realizes what just happened, looks angry at himself for falling for it.

Druce puts a hand on Rip's back. "Now, my friend," he says. "Look."

The machine in the center of the platform rumbles to life, cracking open to reveal a single broad beam of light, a foot or two wide, heading up to the ceiling. And in that light –

Images.

Faces, shapes; people moving; things happening.

"All this," Rip says, struggling to keep his voice level, "for an inferior version of television?"

Len can't help a small smirk. Go, Rip.

Druce looks put out for a moment, but quickly regains his equilibrium. "Hardly just that," he says. "We can look throughout history, any moment, any era –" He smirks. "– and change it."

He reaches out and touches the beam of light, where an image of a battle plays out before them.

One of the figures staggers, distracted mid-battle, and dies from a sword to the chest.

"Why did you do that?" Rip demands.

"An example of what we can do -"

"You killed him!"

"He wasn't important to the timeline anyway," Druce says dismissively. "Rip, can't you see what this means? We can preserve the timeline, adjust it –"

"You have Time Masters for that," Rip says. "And Hunters, too, when you need them."

"This is so much more than that," Druce says, his eagerness evident. He's not just an addict, he's on a mission to convert others to his cause. "This is Time, Rip; Time itself at our command. And once we are able to access the full power of the spirits, we will be able to move through it and shape it at will, creating the history we should have had, the history humanity should have had, a glorious history –"

"You're speaking of changing the timeline for your own interests!" Rip cries out. "That's contrary to everything you ever taught me – that the timeline is sacred – the only people who change it at will are pirates – you declared me a pirate, just for trying to save my family from their fate - for changing the timeline –"

"We're not talking about changing the timeline, Rip," Druce says calmly.

"No?" Rip says challengingly. "Then what are you talking about, Master Druce?"

"We're talking about rewriting it," Druce says, and smiles that same genial, pleasant, charismatic smile. "There won't have ever been a different timeline, when we're done with it."

Rip stares at him in horror.

After a few moments, he says, "But you can't yet, can you?"

Druce frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You've been controlling the timeline all along," Rip says. "Gathering up Time Masters and using us to keep history the way you prefer, but time wants to happen and you couldn't change everything. The method you controlled time through us was too inefficient. That's why you turned to this. But you can't just start using the Oculus to change everything the way you want it, either, because you don't know how. That's why you're working with Savage – you think he can do it."

"Yes," Druce says. "His knowledge, paired with ours –"

"He'll only betray you," Rip says bitterly. "Betray and manipulate, the way he has every other empire he's puppeted. Surely you must know that."

"We're hardly novices at this," Druce reminds Rip with a genial laugh. "We know very well what he does, or at least tries to do. Do not worry. Savage will be very firmly under our control. In fact, we've even agreed to let him rule the world for a period –"

"Oh, yes, in 2166," Rip says. "When my family was killed by him and his soldiers – following the intentional release of a plague that more than decimated the world's population!"

"Yes," Druce says. He sounds undisturbed by the prospect. "Speaking of which, why didn't you and your little crew go to the Kasnia era? We'd set up the signs and hints for you; your interference there would have been most beneficial – you wouldn't have been able to bring yourself to actually kill Per Degaton, of course, it's not in your personality to murder children. But your interference would have radicalized him much sooner, leading to an earlier takeover timeline for Savage."

Rip stares at his former mentor. "And at what cost? Millions dead? Kasnia's utopia replaced by Per Degaton's ruthless rule years earlier than it should have been? An earlier start to the conscriptions, the executions, the wholesale slaughter?"

"Savage needs to take over in that period," Druce says calmly. "The loss of 60% of the world's population to the plague, Per Degaton, and Savage is better than the total elimination of humanity at the hands of the Thanagarian invasion some years later. Under Savage's unified control, the world will be able to resist them."

"And it gets him the control he wants," Rip says, disgusted. "Which in turn gets you what you really want – his help. Did you even try to find another path? Or did you just throw in all your chips with him at once?"

"Rip, Rip, Rip," Druce says, shaking his head. "You're missing the bigger picture. Once Savage helps us crack the Oculus and turn it to our use, we won't need his assistance anymore. And once that happens, we can simply rewrite the timeline from an earlier period for the betterment of all humanity so that none of that pain and loss and death ever happened. Imagine it, Rip: no Dark Ages –"

"No Renaissance," Rip shoots back. "No spread of Arabic culture with all its magnificence. No freedom, no ingenuity, no adversity – damnit, Druce, can't you see the madness in what you're proposing? And tell me, how will you guarantee that this power you're suggesting you harness not fall into the hands of madmen and dictators, who don't want the betterment of all humanity but nothing more than their own power? What happens, Druce, when you die?"

"Savage has agreed to help us solve that problem as well," Druce says mildly.

It takes Rip a second to make the connection. "Immortality," he says flatly. "You want to share in his immortality – you do know that he's obligated to go and murder two innocent beings in each of their lifetimes in order to preserve himself, right?"

"A minimal cost," Druce says with a shrug. "And one that we can work on repairing once we have the time and leisure to do so. Rip, you're not seeing – "

"The bigger picture," Rip says. "As you were always telling me when I was your student. No, Druce. This time I think I'm seeing the bigger picture just fine."

Druce shakes his head sadly. "I had such hopes for you, Rip," he says ominously.

Rip crosses his arms, trying to look intimidating or angry and mostly coming off like he's trying to ward off the blow of yet another betrayal. "So what now?" he asks. "Old friend."

"The magnitude of what we're doing here is a lot to take in," Druce says calmly. "We'll see if you come to your senses. If not, it will be most regrettable to lose someone of your skills."

"Lose," Rip says bitterly. "You mean you'll kill me."

"Likely," Druce agrees, sounding regretful but not enough to actually stop. "Or you'll be sent to Declan for modification into a Hunter."

"Modification – good lord, you mean the Hunters are actually brainwashed? I'd always thought that was some ridiculous propaganda."

"We encourage that perception," Druce says agreeably. "Now, come along."

"You expect me to just – come along with you?" Rip exclaims. "When you've just told me you intend to have me killed or worse?"

"Yes, I do," Druce says. "Because if you don't, the individuals we found stowed away on the Waverider will be turned into Hunters as well."

"How do I know that's not the plan anyway?" Rip says challengingly.

"You don't," Druce says. "But I was your mentor, Rip. I know you. If there's a chance you can save them – and there is – you won't be able to resist taking it."

Rip hesitates, clearly torn.

“You can’t win, Rip,” Druce says. “You know that. What happens after this is your choice.”

“My choice,” Rip says bitterly. “My choice – just like it was the Matron’s choice, I assume?”

Druce nods as if Rip had confirmed something. “We knew you lot had to be involved in that,” he says.

“What did you do to her?” Rip demands. “And all for what? For being the mother you made her into? For trying to defend her children from – whatever it was you were hiding there?”

“A pillar,” Druce says. “The Oculus is unstable; it requires four pillars here, in the Vanishing Point, just to keep the power of the Oculus from overflowing, and several more pillars outside to anchor it in place. The Refuge was the most powerful of the pillars – the Matron’s actions in removing it are causing tremendous instability to the entire Vanishing Point. What mother takes action that puts her children’s life in danger?”

“She was trying to protect us,” Rip says stubbornly. His eyes are narrow and he’s angry, and they’re alone. He takes a step forward. “And you went after her –”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Druce says, watching him calmly. “Whatever it is you’re thinking – that you can kill or incapacitate me, that you can escape – you know it’s not possible. There are guards outside the door, and an army of Hunters just beyond them, ready to attack if there's a disturbance.”

Rip falters. He knows.

“Listen to me,” Druce says coaxingly. “I was your mentor and your friend, Rip; I was never your enemy. The least you can do is think about what I’m offering you here. And, if nothing else, I'm offering you time, Rip; time to think about your choices. Time is the most precious thing we have."

"So you've always told me," Rip says heavily, and Len knows he's given in, at least for now.

The two of them head out, Rip's head bowed low and his shoulders slumped. It's not easy having someone you look up to turn out bad, Len knows from experience, but assuming that Druce is telling the truth about giving Rip some time, that only works to their favor. It gives the rest of them a chance to rescue him.

The two Time Masters are halfway back to the door when Druce says, almost off-handedly, "And what did you do with the rest of your crew? You said you dropped them back off in their own time, but I know that was a lie."

"What makes you think it was?" Rip asks.

"We've checked," Druce says bluntly. "You are capable of depressive moments which would explain your actions in yielding up your mission and returning here for punishment, but the fact that they do not actually appear to be in the right time period speaks volumes."

"Why do you care?" Rip asks.

Druce doesn't respond.

"It's Kendra, isn't it," Rip says. It's not a question this time. "You want to turn her over to Savage."

"He's our ally," Druce says. "It's incumbent upon us to make sure he gets what he needs."

"And you expect me just to turn her over to you?" Rip exclaims. "If you think I would ever –"

"As I said, Rip, I know you," Druce interrupts smoothly. "If you decide to join with us, you will be reinstated to your former post, with all the attended honor and respect – and Miranda will, as well."

Rip stops, his mouth agape.

"She was forced to yield up her position as a Time Master because of your relationship," Druce says. "Our rules about attachment are very strict. But once we have the Oculus working at full capacity, well. Perhaps then we need not be so strict. Think of it, Rip: you will be a Time Master once more, but this time, you’ll have your wife and your son at your side, and the remainder of your little crew left hale and hearty – all but the one already doomed to die, who will reincarnate shortly thereafter anyway. Hardly a real loss in the long run, wouldn't you say?"

Rip's eyes are filled with longing.

"But as I said," Druce says. "You'll have time to think on it."

They go out, Rip following Druce in a daze.

Len watches them go with a grimace. That's tempting, for someone like Rip – all he ever wanted, and more that he never dared to let himself dream, no doubt.

He'll just have to hope that the budding sense of morality Rip’s been developing underneath all that childhood miseducation and indoctrination is strong enough to stand up to his desire to return home.

As for Len – he has other work to do.

He raises his hand to his comms. He hadn’t wanted to make the call while Rip and Druce were in the room, for fear they’d hear him; the comms really need a silent mode, maybe something that translates sign language – Len’s sure he can convince either Gideon or Cisco to make something that would work just on the basis of claiming that they're discriminatory against the deaf and non-verbal – but now that they’re gone, he can –

He can’t.

The goddamn thing’s broken. Len pulls it out of his ear to confirm, but even someone with Len’s entirely practical amount of technological knowledge can tell that the whole unit’s fried. Hell, some parts of it have fused together.

It must be some feedback from the Well.

No back-up.

Great.

It doesn’t change what Len has to do.

Guess the time puppies weren't wrong after all. This is worth all of that pain, all of that anger, all of that, to come here, to find this. To destroy this.

Len turns back to the Well.

It's such a horrifying thing to have as pretty a name as Oculus, and it, like Savage, cannot be permitted to remain intact now that Len is aware of its existence.

He waits until he's sure the Time Masters are gone and heads in, hoping that he's correct that there are no undetectable cameras watching over the room.

Walking closer to the Well is a horrible experience.

Len can barely bring himself to do it; it's like his first experience with the unquiet dead as a small child, the creeping choking terror, the feeling of being scooped apart inside, but so much worse.

"Help us," a ghost chokes out at him, using her last bit of strength to do so, disappearing into a blur of white.

"I'm trying," Len says through gritted teeth. "Oh, am I trying."

Crossing the bridge to get to the platform is, if anything, even worse.

Len stands in front of the machine the Time Masters have built, the machine called the Oculus, and tries to figure out how to destroy it.

He knows at the first touch that his half-formed ideas of blasting it with his cold gun and shattering it are unlikely to work: this machine is made of the same material as the Waverider, tough and almost invulnerable, and likely self-repairing to boot.

No, this will require another approach.

Exactly what that approach will be, Len's not so sure. Maybe it can be rigged into some sort of bomb, or set to self-destruct? But who would have the expertise in this sort of future tech to do that, much less do it secretly enough that the Time Masters wouldn't notice someone tinkering with their holiest of holies?

Maybe there's a way to do it already.

Len prods at the machine and it abruptly unfolds again, the bright beam of light shooting straight up to the ceiling once more; Len hadn't even noticed it closing up again the first time, he'd been so distracted.

There are no images this time; Len wonders why.

Then, of course, it hits him.

It's undoubtedly set to show him what he wants to see.

Mick?

The beam ripples and shows him Mick, walking through the grey corridors of the Vanishing Point unharmed, his face screwed in concentration as if he's looking for something, one time puppy on each side of him, tugging him onwards.

He's okay.

He’s okay.

Len lets out a breath of relief at that.

"I'm gonna get you for that one," he tells the image, which for obvious reasons doesn't respond. "I'll think of something real nasty. Or better yet, I'll get Lisa to think of something; she's the real specialist in nasty pranks – "

And then his voice trails away, because the image is changing again, a different image.

Lisa.

Lisa, in her favorite date clothes, sitting in a chair in STAR Labs, Cisco Ramon at another next to her, showing her something on the computer, a wide, adoring smile on his face as he natters on about something. Barry is standing behind them, scarlet suit on and cowl pushed back, rolling his eyes at them with a grin.

Len is hit by a sudden, overwhelming surge of homesickness.

"You have fun, kids," he tells them, wishing he could be there with them. “Bet whatever problem you’re facing ain’t half as bad as the one we’ve got here.”

Cisco is frowning, now, for some reason, and he's waving Lisa's questions off and trying to focus on something.

"Now, Cisco, that just ain't nice. You gotta let the girl talk if you want her to like you. And don't think I'm gonna let you dating my sister rest," Len tells Cisco's image. "I will come and bust your chops over it. Just you watch me."

And then Cisco looks up and stares straight at Len.

Len rears back a step.

Cisco's saying something. There's no audio in the Oculus, but Len can read lips and the words 'Snart' and 'hear him' are featuring heavily.

"Holy crap," Len says, realizing what it must be. "Your stupid vibe powers. You can hear me!"

Now Cisco's mouth is forming other words, chief among them 'Where' and 'When'.

"Not sure," Len says honestly. "The Time Bastards call this the Vanishing Point; they say it's outside of time –"

Barry waves his hands. He's mouthing the word 'Gideon'.

Right, they have the other Gideon, old Eobard's Gideon, down in their basement.

"Yeah, Gideon might know where it is," Len says. "Good thinking. It’s –"

But Cisco has leapt to his feet, eyes wide with alarm, and he's pointing at Len.

No, not at Len.

Behind Len.

Len spins around just fast enough to see the Time Master holding a pulse rifle, like the ones the Hunters used, over Len's head.

He's not fast enough to avoid it coming down on his head.

And then everything fades in darkness, accompanied only by the screams of the ghosts that surround them.

[the-seas-song]

Selena Rare Video Symbolism

This post is a symbolic explanation of all the feminine and queer symbolism in Selena’s Rare video. This post is not to debate Selena’s sexuality; however if you’re interested in learning why I and many other people think she’s bi see this post and this article. Also, Rare the album has no gender pronouns and there is not a straight explanation for A Sweeter Place. Therefore, I will be treating Selena’s bisexuality as fact.

The majority of the quotes in this post come from The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images by the Archive for Research in Archtypal Symbolism. Any other sources will be noted. 

Let’s dive in!

First, let’s talk about how the plot spirals through the same scenes again and again, instead of being a linear video.

Spiral pg 718

Spiral motifs appear worldwide in the symbolism of religion, art, dreams, folktales and mythology. Mathematically, a spiral is simply a line that grows continuously toward or away from its own center. But its symbolic power is in its evocation of an archetypal path of growth, transformation and psychological or spiritual journey. Based on the direction of its spin, whether expanding outward and larger, or tightening inward and smaller, a spiral is a cosmic symbol that may represent one or the other of several dualities: growth or decay, ascent or descent, evolution or involution, waxing or waning, accumulation or dissolution, increasing or decreasing, expaning or contractingm offering or receiving, revealing or hiding. [cut]

Each natural spiral has a center of balance or calm eye (the eye of the storm) around which all motion and turbulence revolves. The spiral’s eye evokes one’s own center, divine source, “I am” and seed of consciousness.

The spiral is an ancient feminine goddess symbol (see here).

Selena is in a dark place, turning towards the sun’s rays. She is transported to a garden, where she lays asleep on the grass.

Sun pg 22

The nuclear fusion at the core of “our hot, stable, brightly burning star” (Greene, 171) convert 4,000,000 tons of matter into energy every second, a small amount of which supports life on earth. To sun worshippers over millennia, solar rays have seemed to transfer magical properties of fertility, creativity, prophecy, healing and even (for the alchemists) a living potentiality for wholeness that dwells in every individual. No wonder then that the sun has evoked the illustrious, worldy prestige and authority of rulers and royalty who were the sunlike crown, the world-transcending intelligence of the “enlightened one,” the pellucid vision of the haloed saint, and the solificatio or achievement of highest illumination by the initiate of mysteries.

Garden pg 146

Most often gardens are set apart from the pressures of ordinary life for pleasure and contemplation. In many languages the word garden signifies enclosure, bringing to mind walled gardens, secret gardens or mythical gardens - hidden, supernatural worlds transcending time and disorder. The garden paradise is the imagined locus of our beginning and end, the original matrix and mandala of life, fed by underground sources of living waters. The Garden of Eden, the Elysian Fields, the Pure Land or Western Paradise of Buddhism, the Garden of the Hesperides where Zeus and Hera were wedded are all enclosed paradisial garden worlds whose inhabitants are divinely protected. The paradisal garden variously reflects our fantasies of an idealized inner space of potential wholeness and hidden design, or a preconscious state of innocence and harmony. Medieval Christianity projected on the Virgin Mother the soul of the paradisal cosmic garden: inviolate, self-generating and contained.

The gates of entry to secret gardens are typically invisible, narrow, difficult to find. Just as in the processes of individuation one repeatedly circles the more accessible aspects of the personality, only gradually moving closer to the center, so in dream or myth one might have to circumanmulate the outer garden wall many times before the portal to the interior garden is revealed. Physical or imagined, gardens are often arranged to reflect designs of wholeness, a quaternary form, for example, with a fountain, tree or image of a deity in the center.

In almost all cultures and religions, the garden represents a sacred place, a uniting of the conscious self with its unconscious source. Muslims speak of gardens as states of bliss and call Allah “the gardener.” The spare gardens of Japan are commonly not viewable all at once; they gradually reveal themselves in spaces opening along pathways and waterways where one may stroll and contemplate. the Zen dry gardens, stripped to the very essence, convey the eternal through an abstract and mystical design, making gardening a path to enlightenment.

Selena has been transported by the sun to a sacred and safe magical garden so she can heal, grow, and transform into her best self.

Gardens are a feminine symbol (see here).

Selena wakes up after a rainbow butterfly moves up from her mouth (previous section) to her nose. The garden is full of bubbles and rainbow light.

Rainbow pg 72

Rainbow is the sign of renewal, the transmuting changes of the heart and the eros of covenant between heaven and earth. [cut] For many, however, the rainbow represents the imaginal bridge that links the visible world and all that is invisible, magical and supernatural. Fantasy peoples the rainbow’s unseen perimeters with angels, fairies and elves that guard abounding treasure, the bright gold and luminous pearls of wisdom, creativity and mercurial play. Myth has portrayed the rainbow as the highway over which psyche’s supernal emissaries bring their messages to consciousness. From the rainbow bridge the Japanese divine couple Izangi and Izanami stir the primal sea of potential with a jeweled spoon whose droplets coalesce into living matter. The spirits of the Hopi kachinas, or ancestors, descend from the celestial realm of the dead to the land of the living by means of the rainbow, whose earthly counterpart is the ladder descending into the kiva.

Butterfly pg 234

From ancient times the butterfly, psyche, has signified not only the mystery of physical metamorphoses, but also the lovelies transmutations of the soul. [cut] All over the world the gossamer beauty of the butterfly, its winged nature and breathtaking release from a pupal cocoon have symbolized the soul reborn out of chrysalislike containment. [cut] Like an alchemical vas, the chrysalis is both the “golden” (chryseos) vessel of transformation and the object transformed; swaying gently in the wind, it gives no outward sign of the concealed unfolding within as the old forms dissolve and the embryonic tissue is restructured. The butterfly is one of our most poetic images of psyche’s self-renewal beyond even traumatic endings.

Nose pg 362

The nose’s long biological development means that it connects our consciousness to the most ancient and intensely emotional parts of our brains, allowing an entire world to be recovered by the trailing scent of a Christmas spice - or in Proust’s case, by a madeleine dipped in lime-blossom tea - retrieving the soul of one’s past as can no other sense. The Egyptians understood that the breath passing through a goddess’ nostril to give eternal life to a deceased king would impart a fundamental reality, for the nose is like a forgotten portal to the archaeology of the psyche.

Bubble pg 52

In contrast, the archetypal symbol of a bubble exists in the psyche beyond time and space. It constitutes an invisible reality imaged by mystics throughout the ages, a round nothingness that is paradoxically the primordial source of all. The unseen forces within the archetypal bubble symbolize the oneness, [cut]. Throughout history, the translucent bubble has inspired contemplation of the infinite and the eternal. In ancient Egypt the Ba soul, or ghost that appeared after death, flew in and out of the tomb as a weightless bubble. Like the circle or sphere, the globular roundness of the bubble connotes oneness, wholeness, totality, completion and spiritual perfection. The translucency of the bubble introduces, in addition, the numinosity, ethereality and spirituality associated with the celestial light of heaven.

A rainbow is the most common queer symbol in modern times.

The rainbow butterfly symbolizes Selena’s inner soul, which is inherently queer and about to be transformed. She awakens only after the butterfly moves from her mouth to her nose; symbolizing that her soul is awakening so her whole self can be transformed.

The bubble symbolism continues to show us that the garden is a sacred, safe, and magical place of transformation.

A vibrant rainbow moves throughout the garden. We see the magical lifeblood running through Mother Earth’s veins. The garden is a safe space alive with spirit and transformation, just like a womb.

Womb pg 400

In traditional Native American rites and creation myths, Earth is the primary womb. [cut] Living beings - plants, animals, humans - emerge from their gestation deep within  her womb, and return to it in death, to be born again. Thus the highest and most essential mysteries of the feminine are symbolized by the earth and its transformations (ibid, 47), and those reborn in rites of initiation describe themselves emerging as “fresh-baked pots” (ibid, 137).

Selena stands in the middle of the rainbow. When her arms mimic the motions of wings, the white light of spirit/ether gathers on her arms.

Wings pg 240

In our desire for boundless freedom, we identify ourselves with the flight of birds. In our imagination we transcend the ordinary world by leaving the earth and the weight of the body. Wings lift us. “Hope is a thing with feathers,” says Emily Dickinson. Plato declared, “The function of the wing is to take what is heavy and raise it up into the region above where the gods dwell.” According to Black Elk, “The most important of all the creatures are the wingeds, for they are nearest to the heavens.” With wings we can look at things from both the perspective of earth and heaven at the same time. Intuition and inspiration seem to arrive unexpectedly on wings out of thin air as the first sign of any creative act. All kinds of winged beings connect us with the world beyond: the white dove of the Holy Spirit and Aphrodite, the black crow and raven, the angel, equally half-bird half-human, daimon and duende, as the voices of destiny, Mercury, the winged spirit of alchemy, the ancient shamans who flew to other worlds on their magical wings and imagination itself is winged. They return, each with their unique message.

Selena’s queer soul is starting to transform and transcend her old self.

Selena’s fingers are creating sparks.

Spark pg 86

The origins of the word spark attest to its fertile, spermatic quality as well as its animating, vital essence. The Greek spargan means to swell, teem, abound and then break or burst forth, also relating to a sprout or germinating plant life. In Latin, spargere is to strew or scatter, as seeds of activating light might be sown in the darkness of fixity or stagnation (Partridge, 645). [cut]

Sixth century Greek philosophers talked of the soul being made out of star-stuff. The Gnostics saw the soul of a human as a spark or seed of light from the greater fire of God, [cut].

Selena is beginning to harness the power of her soul.

While there is a range of flower colors, a significant majority are purple. Purple is the bisexual color because it is the combination of red/pink and blue.

A lot more rainbow lighting as Selena’s soul continues to heal and transform.

Selena is in an outdoor pool with butterflies in her hair (I’ll go over the pool symbolism in a little bit). The butterflies symbolize her soul’s transformational process.

More transformation.

In a dramatic switch, Selena is now in a plastic room. Plastic is a synthetic material. The room symbolizes a fake (not authentic) and confined space. This is the polar opposite of the sacred garden.

Back to the garden, where Selena becomes one with a rainbow. This symbolizes that her authentic self is queer.

Selena has her head tilted towards the sun. There are bubbles in the air and dew on the spider’s web.

Dew pg 74

Science has explained dew as water droplets condensed from the air at night onto cool surfaces. This mystery of the darkness that leaves all the plant life glistening at first light has contributed to dew’s symbolic potency. For the ancients, the refreshment and cooling balm of the dew was evidence of divine visitation and divine gift - of Eos, or the rainbow messenger Iris, or the starry, overarching Egyptian Nut in her night-sky aspect. Because of its “heavenly” source, others saw in the dew tonic and panacea, even a mystical mirror in which the world was reflected. Buddhist literature speaks of Kuan Yin emerging from the center of the lotus with her vase of the “sweet dew” of compassion (Matthews, 94). Ethereal, evanescent, vanishing with the appearance of the sun, dew was the imaginal food of spirits, or the form that souls took following the cremation of the body (ERE 4:698).

Dew’s relation to both night and dawn has also made it a portent of transpersonal intervention and illumination. In the biblical Exodus, dew heralds the “manna,” the bread that God sends to feed the Israelites in the wilderness: “and in the morning dew lay round about the camp. And when the dew had gone up, there was on the face of the wilderness a fine, flake-like thing, white as hoarfrost” (16:13-4). For the early Christians, dew symbolized the gift of the Holy Spirit, a boon from heaven that revitalized parched souls. Borrowing in part from these sources, alchemy found in the dew a synonym for the aqua sapientia, the mercurial water of wisdom (Abraham, 53). Not merely an intellectual form of understanding, but incorporating feeling values, the “dew” alluded to psyche’s capacity to freshen and reanimate the personality desiccated by unconsciousness of its soul-stuff. The illumination of these contents, like glistening drops of dew, represents the “moisture that heralds the return of the soul” (CW 16:483ff).

Spider pg 220

Like a latticed window whose center looks on eternity, the spider’s web intimates the instinctual patterns of behavior out of which psyche’s dark and luminous agency is felt, mythically identifying the spider with divine creator, culture-hero, trickster and benefactor. In a Hopi creation story, Grandmother Spider lives in an underground kiva that mimics the trap-door spider’s dwelling and recall the Hopi’s emergence from the “underworld.” A Navajo tale describes Spider-Woman lodging behind the hero’s ear, whispering secret advice and mediating his transit between physical and subtle dimentions, all within life’s encompassing web. The spider Anasi of West African tradition is an unscrupulous buffoon but also a trickster that outwits larger creatures such as the elephant or lion (Courlander, 135). The spider’s ever-renewed, wheel-like web has been compared to the radiating sun. In Hindu Myth the veiled Maya is spinning the world of illusion out of her substance and drawing it back in.

Selena is embracing the healing and transcendant light of the sun. The dew and bubbles symbolize that her soul has transcended it’s old self and is now moving towards rebirth (the spider’s web symbolizes the dark womb where her soul safely transformed). 

Selena has fully embraced her queer self and is now the embodiment of bisexuality.

Selena walks towards a statue of herself.

Selena is back in front of the spider’s web, we have gone back to her transformation process.

There is glitter on her palm. Glitter sparkles and shimmers, it’s a type of spark (see above). Selena’s soul is transforming  and she is harnessing her ability to authentically shine.

She has taken the dew, her soul material, into her own hands.

The video continues to cycle through day and night, showing Selena’s transformation process. Here she is making a rainbow of ether with her hand.

Selena is reaching towards the statue of herself.

The scene switches from Selena taking a healing rest in the sacred garden to being stuck in synthetic confinement.

Bed/Bedroom pg 598

Distanced from the pressure and activities of daily life, the bedroom can be a timeless place, a haven of stillness. Here, one might be closest to one’s private self, shed one’s clothes, go to sleep and dream, perhaps make love or simply rest and recuperate from the pressures of the outside world.

But the bedroom can also be associated with exposure, nightmare, fear of the dark and supernatural visitation. One can be confined to the bedroom, even imprisoned there. In the bedroom are enacted incest, misalliance and conjugal war. Gnawing anxieties can fill the space emptied of the day’s welcome distractions. The bedroom houses sickbed and deathbed.

Selena is surrounded by bubbles, steam, and bi colored lighting while she is in the pool. The pool is another sign of transformation and renewal.

Pool pg 606

Thus, the pool in the Egyptian image is both domesticated nature and a small reservoir of the infinite brought into the midst of ordinary life. The product of human culture, the pool’s rectangular sides are a temporary collect for the ever-moving energies of both water and the spirit. There are many images in religion, psychology and myth that evoke a simple pool that contains the waters of continual renewal. These are the “still waters” of the 23rd Psalm, where amid green pastures God “restores my soul.” Isaiah enjoined “everyone the thirsts, come to the waters” for the soul’s refreshment (Isaiah 55:1). The baptismal font is a kind of miniature pool holding holy water for the sanctification of a child. Similarly, pools are used for the full immersion baptism practiced by some Christian denominations. The pool at Bathesda (John 5), when troubled by an angel, became a healing bath for the first person who immersed himself in it. At that site Jesus performed a miracle, making an infirm man whole.

The aphorism “Still waters run deep” hints at meanings far beneath the pool’s placid surface. In the symbolism of psychology, a pool of water represents the wellspring from which all psychic life flows (Whitmont, 72). These waters can be a perpetually replenished source of revivification or, left neglected, they can become a stagnant pool.

The video continues to cycle through Selena’s various transformational scenes. Then she blows the glitter (her soul’s shine) onto the sipider web; the dark womb of transformation.

Selena is back in the field of predominantly purple (bi) flowers.

Selena continues to cycle through all the different parts of transformation process.

Selena starts out encased in a bubble, which then bursts open. She is emerging from sacred transformation as her authentic and whole self (see bubble symbolism above).

Selena lets the rain, bubbles, and rainbow light wash over her and nourish her soul.

Rain pg 62

The water upon which all of life depends descends to earth as raindrops both gentle and torrential. Rain precipitates growth, change, refreshment, purification and ... disaster. The image of rain in the mythologies of many peoples represents the penetration of the earth below descending celestial, fertilizing powers and points to the sacred marriage of heaven and earth.

The sun that transported Selena to the garden shines bright here.

Back in Selena’s synthetic confinement, a multitude of rainbow butterflies emerge from her heart.

At the beginning of the video a rainbow butterfly symbolized the awakening of her soul. Now, her inherently queer soul releases itself into space it’s trapped in. She has transformed and is trying to get out so she can finally fly.

Rainbow butterflies emerge from the mirror to cover Selena.

Mirror pg 590

Mirrors have always existed. Before the use of metal, they were the reflections on the waters collected in the earth’s indentations. Early peoples believed that in such reflections the soul element could be perceived and even today the fantasy persists that the mirror can steal one’s soul. The association of the mirror with the essential nature of a thing is carried in the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph for life, the ankh, which was also one of the words for mirror. The mirror represented the solar disk as the source of light that contained life’s essence. Mirrors were placed in burial chambers and were also cult objects in the worship of Hathor, goddess of abundance, joy, music, dance, cosmetics and self-beautification, which brought one into harmony with the divine (ARAS, 2Ak.191). Our English word “mirror” comes from the Latin mirari, to wonder or marvel at.

Carl Jung said: True, whoever looks into the mirror of the water will see first of all his own face. Whoever goes to himself risks a confrontation with himself. The mirror does not flatter, it faithfully shows whatever looks into it; namely, the face we never show to the world because we cover it with the persona, the mask of the actor. But the mirror lies behind the mask and shows the true face. (Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious)

The mirror contains and shows Selena’s true self, her queer soul, which is symbolized by the rainbow butterflies.

The last time we saw the statue of Selena, she was towards towards it. Now that she is completely transformed, she uses the dew (her soul material) to disintegrate her old exterior and illuminate her soul.

Another beautiful view of the rainbow butterflies emerging from the mirror.

Selena goes from blowing glitter on the womb of transformation to embodying her soul’s spark.

More rainbow light.

Selena has harnessed the power of her soul, which now shines out of the palm of her hand.

Selena has fully transformed and breaks free of her synthetic confinement, emerging into the natural world of Mother Earth.

Her soul shines through her.

So she turns away from the sun, and is transported to our ‘real world’ Mother Earth.

[jo-the-schmo]

Breaking... Epilogue Part 2/3 (reupload)

Part 1, masterlist is linked to that

A/N: Idk if this’ll work so we’ll see I guess ;-; I know most of you guys use mobile so I had to make it mobile friendly...even though it looked super cool on my laptop

Wordcount: 4014

Warnings: Everything

Tags:  @midnightokieriete (I know you’re studying ;-;) @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty @meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demi-godamit @gum-and-chips @sweaterkitty-fluff @pinkyiger7 @littlemissshortcakes @msageofenlightenment @unprofessional-inhumanbeing @fandom-panda-221@hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple @ashwolfcub @myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate @superwholockbooknerd526 @frozengal2013 @itsmikayblr @sarmar29 @arya-durin-77 @phantastic-fandoms @hoshihime98 @shinigamired @martapetrovic @robotic-space@iamnotthrowingawaymyshit2 (lol) @asprinkleofmermaids @pinkyiger7 (I’m tagging you twice my friend!) @satellitesuga @rose-coloured-nihilism @okie-dokie-artichokeme @alyssumax @pandartist @marquiis-de-la-baguette @abi-sans05 (If I forgot anyone then I am so sorry!!! .-.)

Who in the hell…?

Eliza: “Alright, alright that’s very good. Now don’t worry you’re going to survive this!”

She separated from her and the woman stood tall in the center of the room. Is everything going okay?

???: “I’m carried into the room!”

EN (Ensemble): “To the room, to the room, to the room!”

???: “Blood down my side.”

EN: “Down her side, down her side, down her side!”

???: “And they wonder, will I live or will I die?

They let me in…”

EN: “They let her in, they let her live!”

???: “And they hope I will survive.”

EN: “Stay alive, stay alive…”

???: “But I believe that…I should never be satisfied!”

EM: “Rewind….!”

There was some sort of backwards screaming sound as she spun anxiously in a circle.

???: “I remember that night,

I’ll never forget that night for the rest of my days.

I remember that suitor’s voice,

Pissed off because he’ll never win my praise.

I remember that dreamlike, dirt and fight,

Like a dream that you can’t quite place.

Philip: “But my starlight,

I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face.

I have never been the same.

Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pane frame!

And when you said ‘Bye’

I knew you won the game!

Set my heart aflame, every part aflame!”

The man playing Philip danced in toward her with a doe like expression.

???: “When you asked me what’s my name!”

Philip: “You strike me,

As a woman I could surely satisfy.”

???: “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,

get over yourself.”

She turned her back to him.

Philip: “But you’re like me,

I’m never satisfied.”

???: “Isn’t that fine?”

Philip: “I could help you be satisfied…”

She turned back around hesitantly and held out her hand.

???: “My name is Titania Taylor.”

WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, THERE! BACK THE FUCK UP A SECOND!

Philip: “Call me Philip Hamilton.

Where’s your family from?”

Titania: “Unimportant, there’s a million things I haven’t done.

But just you wait! Just you wait!”

They began to dance around each other with choreography. Is that…me?

Philip: “So, so, so!

So this is what it feels like to match wits,

With someone at your level!

What the hell is the catch?

There’s a feeling of freedom, of seeing the light!

It’s Ol’Franklin with a key and a kite,

You feel that right?

Our conversation could’ve last two minutes,

Maybe 3 minutes!

Not everything we said in total agreement-

It’s a dream!

Maybe it’s a trance,

It could be her posture; it could be her stance!

I’m a bit of a flirt, but she could give me chance!

We asked about her family, did you see her answer?

Her hands started fidgeting,

She looked askance!

She’s now penniless but she never knew how to dance!

Gorgeous, God she don’t know it!

Strong girl, she knows that she owns it!”

Titania: “I wanna take him far away from this place,

Then I turn and see that boy’s face and he is-“

Philip: “Helpless!”

Titania: “And I know he is!”

Philip: “Helpless!”

Titania: “And his eyes are just!”

Philip: “Helpless!”

Titania: “And I realize,

Three fundamental truths at the exact same time!”

They came together and linked arms.

Titania: “Where are you taking me?”

Philip: “I plan to change your life.”

Titania: I regret letting you lead the way…”

EN: “Number one!”

Titania: “I’m a girl in a world,

In which everyone thinks I should marry rich!

My Father had no son,

So I was the one, who was supposed to strive for one!

But I’m boldest, and the silliest,

And no one should love me, that’s ridiculous!

But Philip Hamilton is the wittiest!

Ha!

That sure don’t mean I want him any less…”

Philip: “Do you see the starlight? It reminds me of you!”

Titania: “Starlight?”

Philip: “My Starlight���”

EN: “Number two!”

Titania: “They’re still after me,

Because I have no sister and my parents died.

I’d have to be naïve to not step aside.

Maybe that is why,

I take comfort in Eliza, I can’t decide!

Nice going, Titania!

I was right, I will never be satisfied…

Thank you for showing me this…”

Philip: “If it takes a million years for you to see,

It would still be worth it.”

Titania: “I’ll hold you to it.”

EN: “Number three!”

Titania: “He knows me more than I know my own mind!

I will never find anyone as trusting or as kind!

If I tell him that I love him,

I’d be setting him behind,

He’d be mine!

He would say it’s fine!

I’d think he’s lying!

But when I fanaticize at night,

It’s into Philip’s eyes.

As I romanticize,

What would happen if I recite…

My love profusely…

All I want is to be called his wife!”

Philip: “…You’ll always have my eyes in your life…”

Titania: “They’d say…

To the groom!”

EN: “To the groom, to the groom, to the groom!”

Titania: “To the bride!”

EN: “To the bride, to the bride, to the bride!”

Titania: “It could be real as…

As long as I stay alive!

To our union!”

EN: “They let her in, they let her live!”

Titania: “And the hope that we provide!”

EN: “Stay alive, stay alive!”

Titania: “May we always be satisfied!”

EN: “Satisfied, satisfied…”

Titania: “And I know…

I’d be happy as his bride…

And I know….

I will truly be satisfied,

Can I help him be satisfied?”

             It took you a moment to notice the tears streaming down your face. That was you, or at least that version of you. Someone who was unsure, scared and self-sacrificing. It was almost surreal, seeing someone pretend to be you, be your voice, speak your thoughts and show your own story. It felt like being the author of a book that was turned into a movie. Washington On Your Side started up with Burr’s voice and you wondered what else was different. And then it happened again, in We Know. It seemed normal but there was another person there, the woman playing Titania. She was off to the side, still prominent in the scene but almost like she was hiding from the other four men on the stage. From time to time you could hear her voice faintly under the others’.

Alex: “Mister Vice President

Mister Madison

Senator Burr

What is this?”

Jefferson: “We have the check stubs, from separate accounts.”

Madison: “Almost a thousand dollars, paid in different amounts.”

Burr: “To a Mister James Reynolds way back in

Seventeen ninety-one.”

 Alex: “Is that what you have, are you done?”

Madison: “You are uniquely situated by virtue of your position.”

Jefferson: “Though ‘virtue’ is not a word I’d apply to this situation.”

Madison: “To seek financial gain, to stray from your sacred mission.”

Jefferson “And the evidence suggests you’ve engaged in speculation!”

Burr: “An immigrant embezzling our government funds!”

Madison/Jefferson: “I can almost see the headline; your career is done.”

Burr: “I hope you saved some money for your daughter and sons!”

Madison/Jefferson: “Ya best g'wan run back where ya come from!”

Alex: “Ha! you don’t even know what you’re asking me to confess.”

Madison/Jefferson: “Confess!”

(Titania: “Say no to this…”)

Alex: “You have nothing; I don’t have to tell you anything at all

Unless...”

Madison/Jefferson: “Unless…”

(Titania: “Lord, show him how to

Say no to this…”)

Alex: “If I can prove that I never broke the law

Do you promise not to tell another soul what you saw?”

Burr: “No one else was in the room where it happened…”

(Titania: “Please, you need to

Say no to this!”)

Alex: “Is that a yes?”

Burr/Mads/Jeff: “Um, yes…”

Alex handed Burr a piece of paper.

Burr: “Dear Sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health

And in a prosperous enough position to put wealth

In the pockets of people like me, down on their luck

You see, that was my wife who you decided to-“

Titania: “Wait!”

Titania ran across the stage, grabbing Alex by the arm and the letter, pulling him away from the others.

Jefferson: “She courted him?

Escorted him to bed.”

Madison: “And when she had him in her corner,

That’s when Reynold’s extorted him.”

Burr: “For a sorted fee?

He paid him quarterly?”

Jefferson: “He may have continued his affair with that maid,

We’ll tell them in the papers.

The public will be set ablaze!”

The focus shifted from the three and to Titania and Alex.

Alex: “If they can see I kept a record of every check in my checkered history,

Check it again against their list n’ see consistency!

I never spent a cent that wasn’t mine,

They sent the dogs after my scent, that’s not fine!

Titania: “Yes, you have reasons for shame,

But you have not committed treason and sullied your good name!

If they can see you have done nothing to provoke legal action.

Maybe our answers will be to their satisfaction?”

Jefferson: “My God…

Gentlemen, let’s go.”

Burr/Mads/Jeff: “But do we really know

What we know?”

Alex: “How do I know they won’t use this against me

The next time we go toe to toe?”

Titania: “Alexander, rumors only grow.

And we both know what we know…”

             Oh my god, I changed history! I really did change history! It definitely wasn’t a dream! I’m not crazy! Next up was Hurricane, that was relatively the same. The only change you noticed was at the end.

Alex: “I’ll write my way out

Overwhelm them with honesty!

This is the eye of the hurricane; this is the only

Way I can protect our legacies!”

EN: “Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait!”

Alex: “Titania’s Pamphlet…”

Oh no, not this again!

EN: “Titania’s Pamphlet!”

Jeff/Mads/Angelica: “Have you read this?”

Burr/Jeff/Mads:” Alexander Hamilton had a torrid affair

And he wrote it down right there!”

Madison: “Highlights!”

Alex/Jefferson: “The charge against me

Is a connection with one,                      

James Reynolds!  (James: “James Reynolds!”)

For purposes of

Improper speculation                          

My real crime is an   (Burr: “My real crime is an)

Amorous connection with his wife    (Amorous connection with his wife”)

For a considerable time

With his knowing consent!”

Mads/Burr/Jeff: “Damn!”

Alex/Jeff/Mads: “I had frequent meetings with her

yet some have looked into my own house!”

Burr: “Into his own house!”

Madison: “Into his own house!”

Deep voice: “Damn!”

Alex/Jefferson: “Titania had no part in this, in fact I’ve considered myself as her father.”

Madison/Burr: “No…”

EN: “Booooo!”

Madison/Burr: “Have you read this?”

Jefferson: “Well, he’s never gon’ be President now!”

Madison/Burr: “Never gon’ be President now!

Jefferson: “Well, he’s never gon’ be President now!”

Madison/Burr: “Never gon’ be President now!”

Jefferson: “He’s never gon’ be President now!”

Madison/Burr: “Never gon’ be President now!”

Jefferson: “That’s one less thing to worry about!”

Jeff/Mads/Burr: “That’s one less thing to worry about!”

Angelica/Philip: “I came as soon as I heard.”

Jefferson: “What?!”      

Alex: “Angelica…”    (Philip: “Titania…”)

EN: “All that way from London?!

Damn!”

Alex: “Angelica, thank God   (Philip: “Titania, oh God

Someone who understands   (I don’t know if I understand

What I’m struggling here to do (Please, tell me it’s not true…”)

Angelica: “I’m not here for you…”

EN: “Ooooh!”

Angelica: “I know my sister (Titania: “You know me more)

Like I know my own mind! (Than I know my own mind!)

You will never find (I will never find)

Anyone as trusting or as kind! (Anyone as trusting or as kind!)

I love my sister more than (I love you Philip more than)

Anything in this life! (Anything in this life!)

I will choose her happiness (I would choose your happiness)

Over mine every time! (Over mine every time!)

Put what we had aside (Don’t put what we have aside!)

I’m standing at her side (I’ve always been at your side!)

You could never be satisfied! (The public will never be satisfied!)

God, I hope you’re satisfied (God, I hope their satisfied!)

 Jeff/Mads/Burr: “Well, he’s never gon’ be President now!

Well, he’s never gon’ be President now!

Well, he’s never gon’ be President now!

That’s one less thing to worry about.”

Jeff/Mads/Alex:              (EN:

“Hey!                                  (“Well he’s never gon’ )  

At least he was                  (be President now!)

honest with our money!

                                (Well he’s never gon’)

.                               (be President now!)

 .                              (Well he’s never gon’)

.                               (be President now!)

Hey!

At least he was honest          

with our money!”

.                             (That’s one less thing)

.                            (to worry about.”)

 Full company:

“That’s one less thing to worry about!

The Titania’s Pamphlet

Jeff/Mads/Burr: Have you read this?

You ever see somebody ruin their own life?”

 Full company (Except Alex and Eliza): “His poor wife…”

You were extremely overwhelmed. A lot was happening at once and it all felt so knew to you. It was the most perplexing thing. It didn’t feel like it was you anymore. It was just another person in history, someone who made your decisions. They felt like two separate things. I guess that’s how history goes; we can never know the full extent of it… unless we lived it ourselves. The next song was Burn and you couldn’t help but remember the actual incident with injury. That poor woman didn’t deserve what she got. There were only some small differences in that song.

Eliza: “They published a letter

Her husband wrote to you.

You told the whole world that you brought this girl into our bed!

In clearing your name, you almost ruined my life!”

You weren’t that surprised by the changes. After all, Titania’s Pamphlet was a lot vaguer than the original. A thought came to mind. What about Blow Us All Away?

Philip: “OooooOoooh!

I do, I do, I do, I do!

Hey!

OooohOoooh!

I do, I do, I do, I do, I do!

Girl, you got me

Helpless!

Look into your eyes and

The sky is them!

I’m Helpless!

Down for the count and I’m

Drowning in ‘em!

Yo, I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight!

Even at revel, they’ll still tell us on a hot night!

Laughing with my sister as she’s dazzlin’ the room

But you’ll walk in, make my heart go

BOOM!”

Titania: “Try and catch your eye from the side of the ballroom!

Everyone’s dancing and the band’s top volume!

Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine!”

Philip: “Grab my sister

She whispers

‘You’ll get her this time!’

                                  (All men:                

.                                    (“Oooh)

My sister made her way across

the room to you                (Oooh)

And I got nervous,

thinking “What’s she gonna do?”          (Oooh)

She grabbed you by the arm,

I’m thinkin’ ‘That’s new!’                     (Oooh)

Then you look back at me

and suddenly I’m Helpless!               (Helpless!)

 Oh, look at those eyes                 (Look into your eyes)

.                                                         (And the sky’s in them)

Oh!                                                    (I’m)

Yeah, I’m                                           (Helpless!)

Helpless, I know                             (Down for the count)

.                                                        (And I’m drownin’ in ‘em)                

.

.                                                          (I’m helpless!)

 I’m so into you                                (Look into your eyes)

I am so into you                               (And the sky’s in them I’m helpless!)

  I know I’m down for the count             (Down for the count)

And I’m drownin’ in ‘em.”                      (And I’m drownin’ in ‘em.”)

Titania: “Where are you taking me now?”

Philip: “Did you think I was done changing your life?”

Titania: “Then by all means, lead the way.”

Philip: “You can really see the sky out here…”

EN: “Just kiss her already!”

Titania: “Thank you…for being with me”

Philip: “I would spend a million years to prove myself, it would still be worth it.”

Titania: “You’re already worth it…”

Titania/all women: “One week later!”

Titania: “I’m writing a letter nightly

Now my life gets better every letter that you write me!

Laughing at his sister, cuz she knows I care for him!”

Female member of the EN: “I’m just saying if you really loved me, you would marry him!”

Titania: “Yes!”

Philip: “Two weeks later              (All men:

In the living room stressin’           (“Stressin’)

My father’s stone-faced

While I’m asking ‘what are my chances?’     ( Blessin’)

I’m dying inside, as

We wine

And dine

And I’m tryin’ not to cry

‘cause there’s nothing

that our minds can’t do               (Oooh)

My father makes his way across the room

To you

I panic for a second, thinking

“what’s he gonna do?”                          (Oooh)

But then he shakes your hand and says

“It’s true…”                            (Oooh)

And you turn back to me, smiling, and I’m

Helpless!                    (Helpless!)

.                                      (Look into your eyes)

.                                    (And the sky’s in)

.                                     (Them I’m)

Helpless!                      (Helpless!)

Hoo!                                (Down for the count)

.                                         (And I’m drownin’ in)

.                                         (‘em I’m)

.                                         (Helpless!)

That girl is mine

That girl is mine!        (Look into your eyes)

.                                     (And the sky’s in)

.                                   (Them I’m)

Helpless! Helpless!      (Helpless!)              

Down for the count     (Down for the count)

And I’m drownin’ in em!”   (And I’m drownin’ in em!”)

Titania:

“Philip, I don’t have a dollar to my name

An acre of land, a group at my hand, a dollop of fame

All I have’s my honor, a tolerance for pain

A couple of callings coming and my top-notch brain

Insane, your family brings out a different side of me

Eliza confides in me, Alexander tried to take a bite of me

No stress, my love for you is never in doubt

We can get a place in Harlem and figure it out

I’ve been livin’ without a family for quite a while

My father tried, my mother died, I grew up with a fake smile

But I’ll never forget what my father taught me, that was real

And long as I’m alive, Philip, swear to God

You’ll never feel so…”

.                                                (All woman:

.              (Philip:                  (“ Helpless!)

Titania:        (“I do I do I do I do!)

“Philip…

.                                         (Helpless!)

.                  (I do I do I do I do!)

I’ve never felt so—

.                                     (Helpless!)

.              (Hey, yeah, yeah!)

.                                              (Down for the count)

.                 (I’m down for the count)       (And I’m drownin’ in ‘em)

.                   (I’m—)

My life is gon’

be fine cuz                                                     (Helpless!)

My sunshine’s in it.

.                        (I look into your eyes,)

.                        (and the sky’s in them)

.                         (I’m)

.                                                            (Helpless!)

.                                                             (Down for the count)

.                     (…drownin’ in ‘em.)       (And I’m drownin’ in ‘em.)

(Wedding march, but whistled)

En: “In New York, you can be a new man…

In New York, you can be a new man…

In New York, you can be a new man…”

Titania: “Helpless…”

Philip…Oh God… You couldn’t move, your mind was running a mile a minute. It was all hitting you at once. This was a simplified version of what you and Philip went through together. This was supposed to be a happy song, full of hope, full of love. But you knew, you knew what came next. The thing that kept you up at night. The whistling of the wedding march changed, you weren’t ready for this. You never could be.

Philip: “Meet the latest graduate of King’s College

I prob’ly shouldn’t brag, but, dag, I amaze and astonish

The scholars say I got the same virtuosity and brains as my pops

The ladies say my brain’s not where the resemblance stops

I’m only nineteen but my mind is older

Gotta be my own man, like my father, but bolder

I shoulder his legacy with pride, I used to hear him say

That someday I would-“

Full company: “Blow us all away!”

Philip: “Ladies, I’m lookin for a Mr. George Eacker

Made a speech last week, our Fourth of July speaker

He disparaged my father’s legacy in front of a crowd

I can’t have that, I’m making my father proud!”

Female EN member: I saw him just up Broadway a couple of blocks,

He was going to see a play.”

Philip: “Well I’ll go visit his box!”

2nd female EN member: “God you’re a fox!”

Philip: “And y’all look pretty good in ya’ frocks

But I got girl waiting for me back home and she rocks!” ( Both female EN members: “Aww, okay...”)

Full company: “Blow us all away!”

Philip: “George!” (Eacker: “Shh!”)

George!”

Eacker: “Shh! I’m tryin’a watch a show!”

Philip: “Ya shoulda watched your mouth before you talked about my father though!”

Eacker: “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true

Your father’s a scoundrel, and so, it seems, are you.”

Full company: “Ooooooh!”

Philip: “It’s like that?”

Eacker: “Yeah, I don’t fool around, I’m not your little tool girlfriend.”

Philip: “Well, see you on the dueling ground

That is, unless you wanna step outside and go now?”

Eacker: “I know where to find you, piss off, I’m watchin’ this show now”

Philip: “Pops, if you had only heard the shit he said about you

I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to!”

Alex: “Slow down!”

Philip: “I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel

They don’t exactly cover this subject in boarding school!”

Alex: “Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace?”

Philip: “He refused to apologize, we had to let the peace talks cease.”

Alex: “Where is this happening?”

Philip: “Across the river, in Jersey…”

Philip/Alex: “Everything is legal in New Jersey!”

You didn’t notice it until just then, but the woman playing Titania looked like she was listening in from off to the side.

Alex: “Alright, so this is what you’re gonna do (Titania: “Never be satisfied…”)

Stand there like a man until Eacker is in front of you.                    .  

When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air (Helpless….”)

This will put an end to the whole affair!”

(Titania: “Please, say no to this…”)

Philip: “But what if he decides to shoot? Then I’m a goner…”

Alex: “No, he’ll follow suit if he’s truly a man of honor

To take someone’s life, that is something you can’t shake

Philip, your mother can’t take another heartbreak…”

(Titania: “Please don’t leave me, I am helpless…”)

Philip: “Father!”

Alex: “Promise me

You don’t want this young man’s blood on your conscience!

Philip: “Okay, I promise…”

Alex: “Come back home when you’re done.

Take my guns, be smart, make me proud, son “

You were expecting the normal switch between the normal melody and Philip’s rap, but that didn’t happen. Instead it slowed down a bit.

Titania: “Look around, look around

At how lucky we are to be alive right now…

Look around, look around!”

Philip turned to find her there, he didn’t seem happy.

Philip: “You weren’t supposed to know…”

Titania: “I should have known…”

Philip: “Titania, you know me!”

Titania: “You’re fighting for something that happened over a month ago!”

Philip: “No!”

Titania: “I must survive until this war is done

But I deserve a chance

To see the Sun!

Look around, Look around

At how lucky we are to be alive right now!

I don’t need a legacy, (Philip: “He will throw away his shot)

I don’t need money! (History has its eyes on me)

I just need you by my side, (Look into your eyes)

I let you inside my heart! (And the sky’s in them)

Oh! Let me be a part of the narrative (Will be ever be satisfied?)

In the story they will write someday! (I can’t say no to this!”)

Let this moment be the first chapter

Where you decide to stay!”

Philip and Titania separated from each other.

Philip: “My name is Philip

I am a poet (Titania: “Am I not enough?)

And I’m a little nervous, but I can’t show it

I’m sorry, I’m a Hamilton with pride

You talk about my father; I cannot let it slide!                   .

Mister Eacker, how was the rest of your show?

Eacker: “I’d rather skip the pleasantries, let’s go

Grab your pistol! (Could this be enough?)

Philip: “Confer with your men!”                                            

Eacker: “The duel will commence after we count to ten.”              .

Full company: “Count to ten!”

Philip: “Look ‘em in the eye, aim no higher (This must be enough!)

Summon all the courage you require

Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky…                .

Full Company: “1, 2, 3, 4, 5-“

Titania ran towards Philip

Full company: “6, 7-“ (Wait!”)

(Gunshots)

Fuck…

[marcusssanderson]

50 Truth Quotes Celebrating Honesty and Communication

Our latest collection of truth quotes to inspire honesty and genuineness.

Consistently telling the truth is not always easy. Sometimes lying might feel like the best option. However, the benefits of always being honest with people far outweigh any short term advantages of lying.

As you’ll discover from the truth quotes below, being honest is beneficial, not only to you but also to the people around you. When you embrace truth, it earns you the respect and trust of others, makes you feel better about yourself, and helps you attract better friends.

Besides, telling the truth is mentally easier – if you tell too many lies, it will be hard for you to keep up with what you have said. Concealing a truth can lead to anxiety, stress, and depression.

It does not take long for people to figure out dishonesty. But if you always speak the truth, people will know it sooner and look at you with respect. Being honest and truthful helps build strong credibility. It also results in a clean conscience, which is one of the requirements of happiness.

Although being 100% honest is almost impossible, the truth quotes below will help stop you from lying about things. Telling the truth is self-empowering and incredibly positive, so we should all make it a priority.

Below is our collection of inspirational, wise, and positive truth quotes, truth sayings, and truth proverbs, collected from a variety of sources over the years.

Truth quotes celebrating honesty and communication

1.) “Beauty is truth’s smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror.” – Rabindranath Tagore

2.) “Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just got to find the ones worth suffering for.” – Bob Marley

3.) “Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.” – Thomas Jefferson

4.) “We learned about honesty and integrity – that the truth matters… that you don’t take shortcuts or play by your own set of rules… and success doesn’t count unless you earn it fair and square.” – Michelle Obama

5.) “The truth is, we all face hardships of some kind, and you never know the struggles a person is going through. Behind every smile, there’s a story of a personal struggle.” – Adrienne C. Moore

6.) “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” – William Shakespeare

7.) “I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

8.) “Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters cannot be trusted with important matters.” –  Albert Einstein

9.) “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” – Buddha

10.) “There’s nothing so kingly as kindness, and nothing so royal as truth.” – Alice Cary

Truth quotes to inspire honesty and genuineness

11.) “I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. I’m for justice, no matter who it’s for or against.” – Malcolm X

12.) “Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain’t goin’ away.” – Elvis Presley

13.) “We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.” – Iris Murdoch

14.) “The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is.” – Winston Churchill

15.) “I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can be depended upon to meet any national crisis. The great point is to bring them the real facts.” – Abraham Lincoln

16.) “Truth is ever to be found in simplicity, and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things.” – Isaac Newton

17.) “Be Impeccable with Your Word. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.” – Don Miguel Ruiz

18.) “There is no greatness where there is no simplicity, goodness and truth.” – Leo Tolstoy

19.) “Have the courage to say no. Have the courage to face the truth. Do the right thing because it is right. These are the magic keys to living your life with integrity.” – W. Clement Stone

20.) “A great man does not seek applause or place; he seeks for truth; he seeks the road to happiness, and what he ascertains, he gives to others.” – Robert Green Ingersoll

Truth quotes that will inspire you to always be truthful

21.) “The truth is not for all men, but only for those who seek it.”  – Ayn Rand

22.) “To live in the light of a new day and an unimaginable and unpredictable future, you must become fully present to a deeper truth – not a truth from your head, but a truth from your heart; not a truth from your ego, but a truth from the highest source.” – Debbie Ford

23.) “For every good reason there is to lie, there is a better reason to tell the truth.” – Bo Bennett

24.) “Morality is the basis of things and truth is the substance of all morality.” – Mahatma Gandhi

25.) “If you are out to describe the truth, leave elegance to the tailor.” – Albert Einstein

26.) “Honest communication is built on truth and integrity and upon respect of the one for the other.” – Benjamin E. Mays

27.) “Our duty is to encourage everyone in his struggle to live up to his own highest idea, and strive at the same time to make the ideal as near as possible to the Truth.” – Swami Vivekananda

28.) “The truth is: Belonging starts with self-acceptance. Your level of belonging, in fact, can never be greater than your level of self-acceptance, because believing that you’re enough is what gives you the courage to be authentic, vulnerable and imperfect.” – Brene Brown

29.) “You can hate me. You can go out there and say anything you want about me, but you will love me later because I told you the truth.” – Mary J. Blige

30.) “The goal of education is the advancement of knowledge and the dissemination of truth.” – John F. Kennedy

Truth quotes to help you live a happier, less anxious life

31.) “Truth is the torch that gleams through the fog without dispelling it.” – Claude Adrien Helvetius

32.) “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” – Arthur Conan Doyle

33.) “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” – Henry David Thoreau

34.) “Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.” – Emily Dickinson

35.) “A dog barks when his master is attacked. I would be a coward if I saw that God’s truth is attacked and yet would remain silent.” – John Calvin

36.) “Let us dream of tomorrow where we can truly love from the soul, and know love as the ultimate truth at the heart of all creation.” – Michael Jackson

37.) “To love our neighbor as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality.” – John Locke

38.) “Let the future tell the truth, and evaluate each one according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I have really worked, is mine.” – Nikola Tesla

39.) “The earth is supported by the power of truth; it is the power of truth that makes the sun shine and the winds blow; indeed, all things rest upon truth.” – Chanakya

40.) “Stop holding your truth; speak your truth. Be yourself. It’s the healthiest way to be.” – Tiffany Haddish

Truth quotes to help you create deeper connections with people

41.) “I believe there’s an inner power that makes winners or losers. And the winners are the ones who really listen to the truth of their hearts.” – Sylvester Stallone

42.) “On the mountains of truth, you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow.”  – Friedrich Nietzsche

43.) “There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth.” – Charles Dickens

44.) “Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity. Faithfulness and truth are the most sacred excellences and endowments of the human mind.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

45.) “Seek not greatness, but seek truth and you will find both.” – Horace Mann

46.) “Every Christian must be convinced of his fundamental and vital duty of bearing witness to the truth in which he believes and the grace that has transformed him.” – Pope John XXIII

47.) “Truth is the ultimate power. When the truth comes around, all the lies have to run and hide” –  Ice Cube

48.) “I know where I’m going and I know the truth, and I don’t have to be what you want me to be. I’m free to be what I want.” – Muhammad Ali

49.) “Life is an unfoldment, and the further we travel the more truth we can comprehend. To understand the things that are at our door is the best preparation for understanding those that lie beyond.”  – Hypatia

50.) “Free expression is the base of human rights, the root of human nature and the mother of truth. To kill free speech is to insult human rights, to stifle human nature and to suppress truth.” – Liu Xiaobo

Which of these truth quotes resonated with you best

Telling the truth makes life easier for everyone. When you’re honest and truthful, you need only remember one version of each event.

If you always speak the truth, people will find it easy to trust you and look at you with respect. You’ll create deeper connections with people and you won’t have to remember your lies.

Honesty and seeking the truth is always the way to go. Hopefully, the truth quotes above have inspired you to always be honest.

Which of these truth quotes resonated with you best? Do you have any other favorite quotes to add to the list? Let us know in the comment section below.

The post 50 Truth Quotes Celebrating Honesty and Communication appeared first on Everyday Power.

[eternalfarnham]

the girlfriend

[content warning: rape mention, torture mention, neither particularly graphic, but there; spoilers for Shadows of the Damned; serious effortpost]

Shadows of the Damned did something surprising -- not just in the general Suda51 sense, where aesthetic supersedes perception and it seems like pretty much whatever can happen, but in the sense that my ideas of narrative were genuinely kind of upended.

Rambo’zebub

As a narrative experience, Shadows of the Damned is so profoundly and archetypically a brutal Hollywood action flick that it craps copies of Die Hard. Our hero, Garcia Hotspur, is a hard-drinking, stone-cold demon hunter with a heavy demon-slaying weapon (who doubles as a funny British sidekick named Johnson, and also a vessel for “boner” jokes, Ha Ha Because He Is A Phallic Gun With A Skull On Get It), hunting after Fleming, the Devil himself, to retrieve his girl, Paula, whom Fleming kidnapped for a bride. 

Paula is heavily coded along the sacred-virgin/tainted-corpse image so common to action movies, where the villain’s attentions threaten to leave her defiled (drawing no distinction between the violation of the consummation of the profane marriage and death): every boss (typically anatomically improbable demons) kills her in the process of manifestation; she repeatedly dies by drowning, immolation, lobotomy/berserker rage (which turns her into a stage hazard), exploding... all while dressed in a white-as-the-driven-snow corset and lingerie. We can tell she’s still a virgin because she’s still wearing all white, you see. It’s simultaneously sexual and virginal: she’s the vulnerable ingenue, but also available to her boyfriend Garcia (and through him, the audience).

One More Dead Girlfriend

It almost becomes a formula: she begs to be saved, then is brutally executed. Garcia tries to save her every time, but we-the-player, at the controls, understand that there will be no actual opportunities to rescue Paula until after the final boss, because that’s how it works. There’s no mechanic to spare her from her fate, and so she becomes, essentially, a prop, SFX, someone who can die over and over with no emotional consequences because the game no longer assigns her death consequences. If Suda51 were a lesser director, I might even attribute this to a clumsy attempt to continually tug at our heartstrings. 

We as an audience are familiar with this trick: the devil shows the hero his girl dismembered, tortured and broken, or cooing the devil’s name and cursing her hero’s (this latter happens more or less literally in the red light district zone, where Garcia must run through toxic darkness as Paula gyrates sensually and mimes sex in the background), and the hero forges on, knowing that these are illusions and that his pure, untouched girl remains waiting in the Devil’s hands. It’s as classic an action-movie trope as “buddy dies against greater foe, rendering him unable to complete backstory” -- a trope so potent that Garcia gets a “buddy” halfway through the game just so he can die like that. (That section also nods to horror movie tropes in a really unsubtle way, and so, naturally, the guy is black.)

There’s a minor snag, in that Paula is heavily implied to be an amnesiac “Unbreakable Huntress” -- a demon hunter who fought her way through hell to kill Fleming... who beat her, severed all her limbs and took her as a mistress. But what I want to call to attention is that word unbreakable, which derives from the Huntress’s stubborn refusal to give up and die in Hell, despite the agonies heaped upon her. Mechanically, physically, Paula is unbreakable: there’s no way to save her and no consequences for her death, so we-the-players don’t feel like her torture means anything; she dies so many times that we-the-heroes, become numb to it, especially because the formula of “running away / ‘Help Me!’ / Garcia in pursuit / Oh Shit It Was Demons” seldom varies; and, of course, we-the-viewers know that the depredations of the Devil never break the hero’s girl, that her corset and lingerie will always be pure white.

Then we get to the Fleming boss fight.

The King of Hell

In a pre-battle cutscene, Fleming goads Garcia into firing on him, only to reveal Paula underneath his jacket. Where we were comfortable with Paula’s death before, the framing of this particular scene jars us out of that. Fleming’s trickery and Garcia’s shock indicate to us that this is the “real” Paula, as does the cutscene framing, which forces us to pay attention. Not only that, Paula’s injury this time is a gunshot wound -- all her prior deaths were appallingly, cartoonishly lethal, and destroyed the corpse, at that (getting gibbed as a demon popped out of her, buzzsaws, live burial, consumed by fish...), but now she’s just bleeding. And that blood stains her white vestments red. Only the most beautiful women look good in red, Fleming tells us. From here, we’re primed to care about Paula’s suffering again, and the gameplay backs it up -- in-battle, Fleming deploys Paula as a shield to soak up Garcia’s bullets.

That’s just the goddamn prelude, folks.

With Fleming dead, we get Paula back -- the real Paula -- and we’re poised on the heartwarming, the credits are rolling...

That’s when Paula attacks.

Garcia’s Angel

"Why didn't you help me? Why didn't you console me? If you truly loved me, why didn't you die with me? Why did you make me suffer, all alone? Why did you let me die each time? Why are the demons after me? Why must I suffer because of you? Where is my freedom!!"

“Paula, forgive me.”

“Never.”

She appears before Garcia in the form of an angel -- note that that’s his nickname for her, angel -- with six wings, a white dress and copper-red hair (which was previously blonde). And she lets him know that she did exactly what anyone would do if they were endlessly revived and slaughtered -- tortured, really -- for dating a demon hunter: she broke. She’s profoundly traumatized; she hates Garcia for not saving her from all those endless deaths when he was right there, and for not dying with her, and because the demons wouldn’t have made her life hell if she’d never met him. He begs her forgiveness, and she says “never.” And so Paula is our final boss -- Garcia clips her wings with his gun, hurling her into a pit of the Darkness which infests hell and devours human lives, then leaps in after her to comfort her before the end comes. And, let’s recall, he shot her -- that’s how she got dyed red in the first place. Garcia Hotspur’s girlfriend, Paula, was not an angel -- she’s a person.

Holy shit.

The promise of the action movie and the promise of Paula’s endless, incorruptible deaths -- that if we kill the Devil and rescue the girl, she will have remained pure for us -- was part of the action movie, but the action movie is over, the girlfriend has been rescued, there’s no one to kill, and the film is still rolling. Paula has refused, and revealed the fundamental instability of, the role of the virgin girl kidnapped by monsters whose pride bears up under the worst tortures -- that the expectation of incorruptible purity is an illusion on the part of an audience that can’t cope with or understand the person under the knife. She loathes Garcia, she wants him dead not for any utility (since Fleming is dead) but purely for revenge, and he has no vocabulary to address that, and neither do we, as the audience -- nothing but further violence! What’s more, the implication exists -- albeit ambiguously -- that Paula-as-Unbreakable Huntress finally managed to escape from hell, since Garcia found her unconscious in a Dumpster; as a demon hunter, Garcia is directly responsible for Paula’s recapture by the Devil, her subsequent torture, death, resurrection,  psychological splintering and ultimate demise at the hands of the darkness. All he can do is hold her as she dies.

You wanted gritty character action, EA? You wanted a rugged, manly hero who saves his fragile girlfriend from the King of all Demons? You got it, and you got the consequences, too.

Happy Days are Here Again

I don’t know if I think the epilogue actually happened.

a) How did Garcia and Paula survive? They’re together, eating dinner and planning a Cancun vacation like nothing ever happened. “We’re finally together,” says Paula, in jeans and a low-cut top. You were choking to death in the depths of hell, lady. We were all there.

b) It’s a “the adventure continues” scenario. A stinger for Shadows of the Damned 2. It’s an action movie staple, when we abandoned that particular way of thinking as Paula transformed. Everything is good... but suddenly there’s a legion of demons outside Garcia’s window and Fleming’s voice on his phone, promising that he will return to take back Paula, so Garcia delivers a final monologue, draws his gun and fades to black. Roll credits, audience cheers, everyone buys tickets to the next one.

I’d believe it was all a fantasy, the movie dreaming of a happier ending, if it weren’t for two things:

Do I Fight And Live? Or Do Those Monsters Get Me?

a) Paula’s transformation -- as the demons approach, she twists in agony (screaming “Garcia” and “No” in a way reminiscent of her hell-torture), her eye glows red, and she assumes a form distinct from her pure lingerie, her red-stained dress and her monster-angel getup. In this mode, she’s weirdly glossy, with hair like literal metallic gold, darker skin and a black dress, and she appears completely comatose -- or at least in the middle of a seizure. Garcia catches her and assumes the classic “hold your girl with one arm and your gun with the other” pose of the action hero, but she’s just lolling her head and staring into nothing. Something’s goddamn wrong -- she has all the taint of darkness, the powerlessness and loss of sanctity, but without the agency that her blood and dyed hair granted her. White-Lingerie Paula begged for Garcia’s aid, Red-Haired Paula rejected it, but Black-Dress Paula doesn’t even seem to have the capacity for speech. 

b) Garcia’s monologue, which I will reproduce in its entirety here.

“Fate has led me to fall in love with the Lord of the Underworld's mistress. His horde of minions will never stop coming to claim her. But I have sworn to strike them down, each and every one, until she is mine alone. I will take on the whole world if I must slay every creature in my path. Because I still see love in her eyes. And because I love... killing fucking demons."

There’s a lot to unpack here.

“His horde of minions will never stop coming to claim her” -- or else the franchise would end. Garcia delivers a one-liner after this little speech: “Sorry, Paula. Mexico will have to wait.” That’s a quip, not a consolation. He’s just admitted it will never happen -- and he can’t really stop Paula from suffering because the mere proximity of demons appears to have driven her into a fugue state from the pain. “I have sworn to strike them down... until she is mine alone. I will take on the whole world if I must slay every creature in my path.” Continual massacres, continual destruction of the demon species, war on an unkillable enemy... we can make as many movies as we need, right? This is an infinite battle. “I still see love in her eyes” -- She’s not looking at you, she’s unconscious. She’s limp in your arms. Hell, I’m not even completely sure she has more than one eye, at this point, and that one’s blood-red and demonic.

“And because I love...” Paula? The girl in your arms? “Killing fucking demons.”

Ah. This isn’t Paula’s happy ending.

Paula’s happy ending was down in that darkness at the bottom of Hell. There, she died to assert her own personhood, having seen her monstrous king/torturer blown to pieces for good, in the knowledge that she would never again be used for torture porn or to titillate strangers, and that she would die in the arms of someone who (for all his faults) genuinely loved her. No demons, no gameplay, no torture -- just silence.

This is Garcia’s happy ending, which is to say that it’s the audience’s happy ending: he gets to keep killing demons with his sick pistol forever, spawning innumerable sequels, for a Paula who cannot be hurt or fail to meet our expectation of being unbreakable because she is pre-broken, who exists as an emotional crutch for the narrative and a reason for Garcia’s one-man war on all demonkind. The demons got Paula, and she died down there in that darkness. But the movie goes on, dragging her corpse with it, and Garcia and Fleming were both resurrected to chase that promise of perfect virginity and perfect love, one to defile it and the other to have it stolen away, as an excuse to kill even more demons. Forever.

Roll credits.

[spirit-science-blog]

With this video, our Hidden Spirituality series comes full circle to its origin point. While the original conception of the series happened many years ago while watching Airbender, it was in December of 2019 that I went to 3 movies and came out with scripts for each one that ultimately became the foundation of this very series! The first was Frozen 2, which was our first episode, and the second was Star Wars 9, which came out on May the 4th to very varied perspectives. Yeah, I don’t blame ya’ll on that, and the 3rd movie was the 2019 remake of Little Women, showing that Hidden Spirituality can be found everywhere - and this one may very well have been the most mystical story out of the 3!

Don’t believe me? Check this out. In the original book, chapter 28, we find this line… “Jo rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each arm, as if already initiated into the mysteries of baby tending, while Laurie laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.”

Let’s have a slow-motion replay in case you missed that. “As if already initiated into the mysteries into baby tending.” I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter what century you’re in - if you’re using the language “Initiated into the Mysteries” of ANYTHING - you know more than you’re letting on about. And it was around this realization that the truth began to be revealed around this story, demonstrating that it’s just that much more in-depth than almost anyone truly knows.

And for those of you who are still in the dark, allow me to illuminate you for a moment - the language Initiated into the Mysteries stems from the ancient Greek and Egyptian Mystery Schools - where Initiates would be initiated into the sacred mysteries of life, often through purification rituals, holy ceremonies, plant medicine, the revelation of divine knowledge - and it was considered a most pious and religious activity - as Initiates of the Mysteries would go on to become beacons of truth, love, and light in the world, helping others to attain to higher levels of consciousness just as they did. Of course, as it’s used in this particular passage, it’s speaking to the sacred wisdom and knowledge that comes with raising a child, which in-and-of themselves are mysteries to be initiated into, most definitely. The secrets of life, right?

Now, the original story of Little Women was first written in 1868, so this is saying something - and it has served as a powerful beacon of truth for women everywhere in realizing that there are so many paths we can take. We are not isolated from fulfilling the stereotypical roles that often accompany our genders. and as a man myself… a Patchman that is… I found the story to teach quite a lot about the nature of the divine feminine, and it helped me connect more in-depth with the gender divide that often is found within society.

Plus, being how I was raised, a patchguy filled with stuffing and all, there’s not a lot of watery elements inside here, but every time I see this scene of Beth getting her piano at Christmas in the 1994 adaption, I can’t help but tear up… Oh god, it’s happening again… It’s so precious… I think for that scene alone - this is my favorite adaption, but we’ll probably go back and forth in this video referencing the different versions.

So straight up, the first thing that stood out upon the revelation of this movie's mystical nature is that four girls are a reflection of the Four Elements. Each sister represents two of the four elements, each starting in one aspect and then transitioning to another through personal growth. The four factors, of course, speaking to Fire - the spiritual will and passion. Water is the emotional body, Air is the Mind and thoughts, and Earth is the Physical dimension. Subtly, because it will be relevant later - the Aether - the fifth element, relates with spirit and the incorporeal. In Little Women, the story takes place mainly over two eras, a period of childhood and a young-adulthood period, which are essentially divided between two events. The death of Beth, and the Marriage of Meg.

So we have Amy, Beth, Meg, and Jo. Starting with Amy, she begins as a representation of the fire element, the youngest of the four, who especially in the book is described as being very selfish, familiar to the Princess of Wands in the Tarot, focused on her own needs and ideas. She burns Jo’s book at one point, demonstrating more of her fiery energy.

Next, we have Meg, who begins as Earth. She is very focused on the material future she wants to create, having money and wealth. The story goes that they used to have wealth, but their father went off to fight in the civil war, and the family sank into poverty as a result. Meg yearns for the wealth to return and believes it is through marriage that this can happen. Of course - wedding rings usually holding a stone further adds weight to her representation of the earth.

After this, we have Beth - the soft-spoken, loving, and nurturing one. Definitely water. She is always calm and centered, one who humbles the rest of the group whenever they’re having an argument, wishing the best for everyone and hoping that the group can find harmony and happiness all the time… once again, that piano scene… You can’t help but cry.

Finally, there is Jo, the often seen “star” of the show. Jo is the different one; she is unique; she thinks very differently than her sisters and most young girls her age. She connects more with her creative energy; she likes to write and tell stories and doesn’t care much for the idea of getting married or having a family. She’s an expression of the divine feminine who actively chooses her reality, rather than just going along with the imposed story that women exist to get married and have babies for the men, and this is one of the essential pieces that contributed to the success of this book, to begin with. It empowered women to think differently about their roles in society and support them no matter what path they chose.

These relationships match for the first half, but once they transition into adulthood, we see a much different picture.

Once again, starting with Amy, she transitions from Fire into Air. She becomes more intelligent, more mindful, and travels to Europe to learn the art. Now you might think that she may transition to the element of water because she's doing art - but there is a line in the movie, specifically, that suggests her paintings lack emotion and needed some work. Further, much of her story in the second half revolves around her marriage to Laurie's young man and the choice of whom she should marry. Ultimately, she puts a lot of thought and consideration into this decision, something only a very mindful person would do.

Now Meg, on the other hand, transitions from Earth into Water. She marries for love, rather than for riches, a potent example of the shift in consciousness from a more worldly state of being. This results in her remaining poor for the rest of her life, and she’s okay with that because she’s happily married, the thing she wanted. At one point, she buys fabric for a costly dress. Still, she does so because of her friend's emotional pressure, and upon seeing the effect that it had on her relationship with her husband, due to how much money they had, she sells the fabric to support her family.

Next, we have Beth… Now, Beth is an interesting example because she passes away in our transition to adulthood. Beth transitions from the Water element into two different aspects: Earth, because her body returns to the earth. However, before she passes, she says she is going to God soon, and herein we see that indeed, she also shifts into the 5th element, the Aether, one with Spirit. Through her, all of the features are covered.

Finally, we have Jo, who steps out of her comfort zone of just thinking about her dreams, but genuinely stepping out and living them. With her Air transition, she moves into Fire, embodying the matured fiery energy as she moves away from home and becomes a published author. Again, it gives a strong and empowering message about how anyone can live their dreams if they’re willing to go after them through its storytelling.

Not only do each of the girls demonstrate these elements in their transition, but we also see them embodying and educating us subtly about the wisdom we find in the Royal Arcana of Tarot - the youthful and mature energy of each element, from childhood to adult stages, or the princesses into the queen archetypes.

From here, we can also see some exciting correlations of fundamental differences between the various film adaptions. Greta Gerwig's 2019 edition is much more intelligent than its predecessor, keeping a fast-paced dialogue and consistently jumping in the timeline between past and future. In contrast, the 1994 edition was entirely linear and far more emotional. This version is a bit simpler and more comfortable to follow but conveys a more significant emotional weight. In contrast, the new version is a bit more expansive, covering a greater awareness of the times and gender roles. These differences alone might identify the 1994 edition as relating more with Water and Earth's elements and the new 2019 edition as Fire and Air.

While the 1994 edition was more concerned with simply telling the story in a meaningful way, the 2019 version carries some other messages that are very important for our collective spiritual awakening. In particular, one line has Amy describing that marriage is an economic proposition, wherein upon marriage, the wife is owned by the man, and when children are born, they too are owned by the man. Of course, while times and collective mindsets have changed a great deal since this period, we need to realize this truth as society continues to evolve. Just consider that in another hundred years from now, what ingrained belief systems we may recognize are ridiculous, but yet today, we deeply cling to. To create a more harmonious future, we have to learn from our past, and this story does a beautiful job of presenting our history for us to digest today. Breaking free from her old reality, Jo says “

“Women have minds and souls as well as hearts, ambition, and talent as well as just beauty, and I’m sick of being told that love is all a woman is fit for,” but then also expresses that she too is lonely, and this is something that we all must face, both men and women alike, balancing the masculine and the feminine within.

Honestly, even I’m relatively new to this story, yet I recently learned that my mom said she read it nearly 20 times growing up, as there wasn’t very much content available for young girls liberating in this same way. It would have been even worse 150 years ago when it was first published; how many female protagonists were there in storytelling? Women were always the love interest or the wife, but never the hero or the main character. This book shifted the landscape for women’s literature by being something that half of our human population, at least in our western world, could connect in a significant way.

“It’s just about our little life,” says Jo, of the new writing she is producing. “Who will be interested in a story of domestic struggles and joys? It doesn’t have any real importance.”

“Maybe,” says her sister Amy, “We don’t see these things as necessary because people don’t write about them.

And so - with this, we find perhaps the deepest and most profound lesson we can all learn from this story… it doesn’t matter who you are, male or female if you find important in some aspect of life, something that others seem to glaze over even if it is meaningful… talk about it, tell the story, and who knows, you might start a revolution.

Happy holidays everyone! See you next time on Hidden Spirituality!

Written by Jordan River Edited by Zach Bouker Created by Team Spirit Connect with the team at https://spiritsciencecentral.com/about

[mayviolet]

How To Get Your Ex Back In 25 Days Pdf Jolting Diy Ideas

Remember, don't approach him anymore, work on your feet and plead enough, their ex back fast, right now that it wouldn't happen again if she sees you that is, then you have and if they beg and cry.This goes hand in hand with step number one, but it won't hurt to hear her voice.It can seem like a doormat and nothing else.But once he realizes you might lose her for good, you need to be true.

If your whole life revolved around your little ways, and it's not nice enough thus change drastically by being willing to follow this simple plan.These simple tips and are so devastated and desperate certainly isn't attractive.Often, the cause for the better your chances of getting back with an ex girlfriend back, if you are going to marry you proves you are probably still high from the home.No man will like what is going to get your girlfriend back, you need to make contact with your macho act and she will talk to him again.Some of the bad memories to disappear, and help understand each other.

Then gradually, you can argue and still is.What will probably need to feel better later. After he sees you being desperate or needy, then he will come crawling back begging for another chance, you're doing fine by acting like a complete idiot.OK, the truth is, women do tend to make a decent guess on when the two of you had been a waste to throw a good impression in the first place and if you are going to be a very good that you are getting an ex back isn't a seduction, but at least a basic tenet of human nature.I'm not saying that this is surely a great time to take action.

In spite of clear and undeniable evidence to show it as you keep begging, pleading or begging your ex back.A woman wants to hear from friends that I had to do it as soon as possible.If you are actually suffering, even if the topic of the tips on how to win him back.They might even begin to become an entirely new man but make sure you go and talk about what their needs are will help you get mad at each other's views.To get your ex disliked as that alone would mean a lot of effort into it and it is a sacred vow and no return call.

Of course, you had a part is that it SEEMS to be cool and don't stop going out with friends and tried to have to change; there's a chance.Make yourself scarce for a concert of Jaime's favorite band.As soon as you work things out as much possible, and if your ex back.First of all workers have no way of checking to see past trying to help you settle down you want to correct their ways usually deserve a loving relationship that looks tend to do it.However, there is always going to listen to this point, it is time to dial it back some.

It might not hold good but in practice or to get her deeper in love.Does writing letters to get your ex like a stalker.So they'll yell and they will help in regenerating interest in getting him back, not scare him away even more.Ex, but can actually be repaired and that simply is not easy either.Think about how you felt you were first attracted to men who are in this current predicament but how long the emotional dust settle.

The symptoms are the most powerful technique is based mostly on how to go on with your ex back.If you want your ex back because you weren't honest and work on winning her back.Knowing that you are completely broken down, suggest seeing a relationship before.Bob had completely blown any chance you have.Finally, you have to show signs of coming back; I suddenly began to focus on yourself.

You admit to have acted very weird lately and simply want to get things going again, to get their girlfriend back just won't work.Your relationship cannot grow if there is a right way to make that happen.People often ask me: How do they brush you off, give you some things you should start focusing your energy is probably somewhere in the state of mind.The minute he told you that can't be agreeable with everything your partner back is not too available.Most men demand that they can't get your ex boyfriend when they are safe.

Can I Get My Ex Back After 4 Months

Call her a dog - Be sure she can open the door for misunderstanding and fights, which eventually lead to arguments.If you help her to leave first, saying you have read tons of emails or text them after you are to have loved her and don't have to stop the unnecessary calls and messages is almost certain that she would react.This time however, make sure they end up follow the advice is coming from.Send her a little time and be a very bad movement.Doing simple little things for it to be made is theirs.

It won't always be treasured in her head, and if it will help you through your emotions.This shows you do all these unhealthy food.On the other option isn't really a good plan and are ready to?accidentally? bump into people we no longer in good conscience promote something if I'm not telling you this, because I was back then; and the good times you spent together.Now my friend, this is exactly what happened to be behind them to wonder what happened to be the causes of the world.If they need that means is you both had together.

Become the best thing to do, you invite chaos and ultimate failure to take action and follow the beat of his dreams despite being remarkably average--average height, average looks and even posture.This will avail you the answer, you can make her feel like the jealous ex boyfriend back is to have selective amnesia to what the thing is... it isn't.What you do when you read every word of this article is very important that you are going to be hard; you just broke up, it's time to think of trying to get your boyfriend back.Unfortunately, none of this is the best time of my life I had picked up a conversation in person.Do not pay attention to other things besides your marital problems.

If done correctly, you will need to take the spotlight off of her.Susan thought she had meant to hurt you once, she has made a concerted attempt to attract a certain individual or maybe taking his feelings for you to reunite.When you are very good right now, you can do to prevent the same principles in contacting an ex.Below are two qualities women want in a short article.Often times, this can be worked out your own instincts when you meet again.

Thanks God, a friend or family member to help you get your ex back?So if you really do love and commitment to successfully win your ex back advice.If your ex or the break up, because I was or wasn't doing to try and win his/her love back.If you aren't trying so hard to get an ex I was feeling, which was angry, miserable, and really want is a fundamentally wrong thing at the moment.If you really want your ex back so they rush out and tell her these things, you are talking to her.

However, you should do some new things and thinning your chances will be one of the happy times you had.Are you left off you are making right after the break up Wicca spells can do to win your ex back by sitting on my girlfriend back fast.When it happens or how badly it ended, you can see that she was very kind to have.So, you want to make her even angrier with you, but there is nothing like it.That means you have lost her initially but if you do get your ex back.

How Do I Know If My Ex Wants Me Back

[thebeafeminist]

My Feminist Gut

In my first-year seminar class Speculative Feminism and Sustainable Futures, we were assigned an excerpt from the book Gut Feminism by Elizabeth A. Wilson that I found very refreshing to read as it related to myself and my current experience. In my first semester, I suffered from an undiagnosed and misdiagnosed gastrointestinal condition that made it increasingly difficult for me to attend class and focus on my academic work. My family, friends and medical professionals denied my claim to have a real illness and decided it was a mental health issue. I needed to “push through”, or “suck it up”. 

Gut Feminism talks about the belly and being, making a fundamental connection between gut pain and depression. Wilson urges feminists to not overlook biological data and instead use them to give feminist arguments power. She says that for too long, “antibiologist” sentiments have been embraced by feminists, and that in general feminist theory mistrusts natural science: “While feminists have engaged carefully with, say, ethnographic data or sociological data or historical data to build new theories of gender and sexuality, we have been less enthusiastic about data from the natural sciences In relation to that kind of data we have been almost uniformly

suspicious” (Wilson 29).

In fact, Wilson argues, biology and other hard sciences can be used to empower women by challenging the claims that women’s health issues are “all in their heads.” Wilson writes, “If feminist theory is to continue to make trouble, it will need to form intimate and unruly alliances with biological data. We need these kind of alliances with biology not just in relation to depression; more generally they help unsettle the political certainties of what we think we stand for, what we think we stand against, and where we stand when we make political gestures” (Wilson 35). By founding theory in data, scientific research, and biological fact, feminists can help women defend themselves against the many ways in which the healthcare industry denies them power and independence. 

 Wilson’s theoretical discussion reflects my narrative of how I was sick and misdiagnosed, which led to further anxiety and depression, alienation from friends and family, and poorer performance in school. After this experience, I began to research how women are mistreated and abused by the medical profession. There is a direct and documented link between sexism,  the refusal to believe women when they listen to their bodies, and poor health outcomes, especially for young women. According to one BBC report, “Women are more likely to wait longer for a health diagnosis and to be told it’s ‘all in their heads’. That can be lethal: diagnostic errors cause 40,000-80,000 deaths in the US alone” (Dusenbery).  

My most sacred and known quality is my motivation, but through this battle, I felt it slowly drift away. That’s when I knew my sickness was affecting my mental health. My energy and lust for life were fading out of my life as I found myself stuck and questioning my ability to go through with college. Everything that was important to me was slowly being taken away from me because I was sick and no one knew why or understood me. 

The minute I arrived at Pitzer College, my dream school, I felt worried about my academic and social capabilities in relation to other kids. Searching for classes and hearing fellow kids talk about how easy the classes were made me feel more and more like an imposter. I kept asking myself, “Why am I worthy enough to come to Pitzer College?” I was questioning myself and felt my once beaming confidence shrink. As I began to meet with professors, however, I felt as though I was in good hands and they understood my hearing loss and disabilities. Due to my deafness, I’ve suffered major learning delays which left me developmentally lagging in comparison to other kids my age I was reminded of this in college: when my peers talked out loud in class, or when I was in a meeting with a professor, I would leave stunned and berating myself for not knowing what they were articulating. I never gave myself a break or congratulated myself for “making it.” Instead I chose to beat myself up for not being knowledgeable enough.

Suddenly, I started to gain my speed in my classes and I forced myself to share my work or my thoughts even when I felt my anxiety choking me. I would leave class with a huge smile on my face and thinking to myself how good it felt to push myself into the spotlight. I was handing in my best work in all of my classes, delivering great presentations, and sharing articulate thoughts. I still had a feeling of anxiety spread throughout my body, but that is something I have suffered throughout my life, and my natural reaction to doing something I really care about. 

Then almost overnight, my stomach began cramping up and caused me to have very irregular bowel movements. I woke up from a sluggish night of sleep, got to the dining hall, and ate a full meal, which angered my stomach even more. I felt defeated but still dragged myself to my class with the same enthusiasm. Then I sat in the bathroom contemplating what to do with the next class that I had prepared hours worth of notes for. I went up to the professor and said with the utmost sincerity, “I can’t make it to class, I am so sorry.” Then it went from one class missed to handfuls of classes. My friends began to judge me, and ask  “Why aren’t you just going to class?” My parents called me up and said, “You have to go to class!” I wanted nothing more than to continue the good streak I had started. Now reading email after email I sent to my professors, I can see my confidence deteriorating as  my happiness eroded. I no longer felt that I was in college, but rather in a prison of my own mind with constant thoughts of disappointment and confusion. Each night I would look up stomach issues. I found article after article about anxiety, bad diet, IBS, ulcers, etc. I researched  doctors to go see in my area, and I made an appointment in NYC with a great gastrointestinal doctor. I flew back to New York with happiness that I was back home where I felt comfortable and escaped my mind for a couple of days. 

I met with the doctor and felt eager to find out what was wrong with me. I told him the entire story and explained how the stomach issues had worsened, my symptoms, and what I thought the diagnosis might be. He assured me it was probably IBS exacerbated by anxiety, and I felt tears stream down my face. Anxiety? He didn’t even consider anything else, but the fact it had to be my mental health. He told me to try peppermint pills that should calm down my stomach, and I practically had to beg him to give me an antibiotic, which he prescribed and told me not take unless absolutely necessary. Then, he told me of the LOW FODMAP diet which is supposed to cut out tons of problematic foods for people who suffer from IBS, and he said I shouldn’t do it since it’s very restrictive for someone who is in college. Later that day, I had an appointment with my physician, who told me to take the antibiotics and offered an anti-anxiety medication. 

I later discovered that by accepting this diagnosis, I was reinforcing the ongoing mistreatment of women in medicine. According to an article in U.S. News and World Report,  “This knowledge gap and this trust gap can be so mutually reinforcing because if a woman is going to a doctor and describing symptoms and being told it’s just stress, and maybe she's depressed, she'll usually go to another one and another one. And maybe four doctors down the line, she might get diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, but those four doctors that she saw won't get the memo about that. It makes them have a false sense of confidence in their diagnostic skills and also means each time that happens it reinforces the stereotype that women are especially prone to symptoms that are all in their head.” (Levy).

After a long day full of doctor visits I flew back to Claremont and saw a dietician who helped me implement the LOW FODMAP diet. I started following it religiously, shopping for myself and spending hours checking labels. I ended up eating almost nothing throughout the day at school. I would spend my days with no food and then when dinner came I would eat rice and vegetables. I no longer had any desire to care for myself as everyone else seemed to turn a blind eye. My life became bleak and dull as I canceled more and more plans and holed up in my room.  My friends were becoming cattier with me as I couldn’t show up and eat in the dining halls anymore. 

One morning I woke up and felt tears stream down my face as my stomach was in pain more excruciating than it had ever been before. My dad told me to go to the Emergency Room. When I  told the lady at reception what I was there for, she snapped at me. I went outside and found my dad and started bawling and shaking, overwhelmed and disappointed in this whole situation. We went into the building and I was admitted to a bed and waited for hours to get a doctor to look at my blood, x-rays, and physical. The doctor came in and told me that through the X-ray he could see major blockages in my stomach, but nothing to be concerned about. He simply prescribed me over-the-counter stomach medicines that I already had tried. Through exhaustion and annoyance I just accepted it and tried to push back the ferocious anger about to spill out of me. That Tuesday I went to class, and my stomach grumbled so loudly I felt my whole body turn hot and red. I was so embarrassed, but I laughed it off as if it was nothing. As the class went on I got up to drink water and relieve my horrific anxiety. Then I went back to feeling vomit rising in my throat. I made it to the restroom, and felt torn as to whether I should go back to class or not. I decided to run back to my dorm and congratulated myself for making it safely. In the next class, my stomach went through the same routine. 

After being so humiliated and stumped I felt confused as to what was wrong with my body. I started eating less and less and getting colonics just to make it to classes. I was torturing my body because I had no other solution. I was assigned a therapist and put on a small dosage of Lexapro. I felt inadequate and felt that everyone was judging me because they didn’t know why I wasn’t showing up to classes. I was questioning my own ability to go to Pitzer College. I arrived at the conclusion that my only solution was to take an incomplete to pursue further medical assistance. I sent emails to all of my professors, who responded with sincerity and agreed with my course of action. Then, I spoke to my parents. They were very upset with me and felt that I shouldn’t have done that. They were threatening to take my vacation away from me and were begging me to reverse the incomplete. At this point, I couldn’t gather any strength or energy to fight with them. So, it felt that no one cared about my stomach issues and that everyone was treating me as a failing student. I was angry that no one seemed to believe me and my medical issues as if I wanted to not show up to class after doing extensive work to prepare. I wonder how people would have reacted if my leg was broken. 

My parents were frustrated and decided to fly me back to NYC to get an endoscopy. I went in hoping they would finally find something and I went under anesthesia and the doctor told me that they took some biopsies and there was an alarming amount of acid and inflammation in my stomach. No kidding. I looked at my mother in an I told you so kind of way. Days later, in Los Angeles, I received the report that I had high amounts of H. Pylori bacteria’/ in my large intestine, which left untreated can become ulcers or cancer. A wave of relief washed over me as I knew for certain something was wrong, even if I stuck to my gut to fight for an answer.  I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was prescribed three different types of antibiotics which made me feel very nauseous and tired, but it didn’t matter to me as long as I was finally getting better.

Today, I look back at this semester and connect my misdiagnosed stomach illness to my delayed diagnosis of profound hearing loss. As a child, my desire to communicate caused considerable frustration which led me to throw tantrums. The people around me felt tired, angry, and labeled me, “a nightmare.” Being deaf and not understood led me to feel alone and isolated, something  I have felt throughout my first semester of college. 

I went through months full of anxiety and depression dealing with this stomach issue. The only person who understood was me. It was an internal problem, so people chose to dismiss my illness, which made me feel guilty that perhaps I was faking it. Instead of taking action, they chose to dope me up on anti-anxiety medications and send me to a therapist. It wasn’t the right solution to my stomach issues, which remained until they were properly diagnosed with good science and good medicine. As Elizabeth Wilson says, “My argument is not that the gut contributes to minded states, but that the gut is an organ of mind: it ruminates, deliberates, comprehends” (Wilson, 5). 

There is a gender bias in health care that leads to poorer outcomes for women. Women with health issues are often disbelieved and disregarded by those around them and those treating them. This skepticism leads to poorer health care and serious, sometimes fatal consequences. I am hoping this paper encourages all women who feel that their bodies are misunderstood or misrepresented to challenge doctors and other authority figures. Our society needs to encourage young women to listen to their bodies and insist that they receive the proper health care that they need, rather than dismissing them. If, as Elizabeth Wilson says, we can inform this self-assertion with good science, we can finally enforce real change for women’s health.  

Sources:

Dusenbery, Maya. “'Everybody Was Telling Me There Was Nothing Wrong'.” BBC Future, BBC, 

29 May 2018, https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180523-how-gender-bias-affects-your-healthcare.

Levy, Gabrielle. “Why Women Struggle to Get Doctors to Believe Them.” U.S. News & World

Report, U.S. News & World Report, https://www.usnews.com/news/the-report/articles/2018-04-20/why-women-struggle-to-get-doctors-to-believe-them.

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Expert: Christianity gave Eros poison to drink; he did not die of it, certainly, but degenerated to Vice. — Frederick Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen. — D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover The so-called consumer society and the politics of corporate capitalism have created a second nature of man which ties him libidinally and aggressively to the commodity form.  The need for possessing, consuming, handling and constantly renewing gadgets, devices, instruments, engines, offered to and imposed upon the people, for using these wares even at the danger of one’s own destruction, has become a ‘biological’ need. — Herbert Marcuse, One Dimensional Man There is a vast literature analyzing the political prophecy of George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four.  Big Brother, double-speak, telescreens, crimestop, etc. – all applied to our current political situation.  The language has become part of our popular lexicon, and as such, has become clichéd through overuse.  Blithe, habitual use of language robs it of its power to crack open the safe that hides the realities of life. There is no doubt that Orwell wrote a brilliant political warning about the methods of totalitarian control.  But hidden at the heart of the book is another lesson lost on most readers and commentators.  Rats, torture, and Newspeak resonate with people fixated on political repression, which is a major concern, of course.  But so too is privacy and sexual passion in a country of group-think and group-do, where “Big Brother” poisons you in the crib and the entertainment culture then takes over to desexualize intimacy by selling it as another public commodity. The United States is a pornographic society.  By pornographic I do not just mean the omnipresent selling of exploitative sex through all media to titillate a voyeuristic public living in the unreality of screen “life” and screen sex through television, movies, and online obsessions.  I mean a commodified consciousness, where everyone and everything is part of a prostitution ring in the deepest sense of pornography’s meaning – for sale, bought.  And consumed by getting, spending, and selling.  Flicked into the net of Big Brother, whose job is to make sure everything fundamentally human and physical is debased and mediated, people become consumers of the unreal and direct experience is discouraged.  The natural world becomes an object to be conquered and used.  Animals are produced in chemical factories to be slaughtered by the billions only to appear bloodless under plastic wrap in supermarket coolers. The human body disappears into hypnotic spectral images. One’s sex becomes one’s gender as the words are transmogrified and as one looks in the mirror of the looking-glass self and wonders how to identify the one looking back.  Streaming life from Netflix or Facebook becomes life the movie.  The brilliant perverseness of the mediated reality of a screen society – what Guy Debord calls The Society of the Spectacle – is that as it distances people from fundamental reality, it promotes that reality through its screen fantasies.  “Get away from it all and restore yourself at our spa in the rugged mountains where you can hike in pristine woods after yoga and a breakfast of locally sourced eggs and artisanally crafted bread.”  Such garbage would be funny if it weren’t so effective.  Debord writes: The spectacle is not a collection of images, but a social relation among people, mediated by images….Where the real world changes into simple images, the simple images become real beings and effective motivations of hypnotic behavior. Thus sex with robots and marrying yourself are not aberrations but logical extensions of a society where solipsism meets machine in the America dream. As this happens, words and language become corrupted by the same forces that Orwell called Big Brother, whose job is total propaganda and social control.  Just as physical reality now mimics screen reality and thus becomes chimerical, language, through which human beings uncover and articulate the truth of being, becomes more and more abstract.  People don’t die; they “pass on” or “pass away.”  Dying, like real sex, is too physical.  Wars of aggression don’t exist; they are “overseas contingency operations.”  Killing people with drones isn’t killing; it’s “neutralizing them.”  There are a “ton” of examples, but I am sure “you guys” don’t need me to list any more. Orwell called Big Brother’s language Newspeak, and Hemingway preceded him when he so famously wrote in disgust In a Farewell to Arms, “I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice, and the expression in vain….Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene…”  This destruction of language has been going on for a long time, but it’s worth noting that from Hemingway’s WW I through Orwell’s WW II up until today’s endless U.S. wars against Afghanistan, Iraq, Yemen, Syria, Libya, etc., there has been the parallel development of screen and media culture, beginning with silent movies through television and on to the total electronic media environment we now inhabit – the surround sound and image bubble of literal abstractions that inhabit us, mentally and physically.  In such a society, to feel what you really feel and not what, in Hemingway’s words, “you were supposed to feel, and had been taught to feel” has become extremely difficult. Language, as the Greeks told us, should open up a clearing for the truth (Greek aleitheia, unhiddenness) to emerge so we can grasp the essence of life.  And so it is ironically appropriate that Orwell’s Winston Smith discovers such essence, not in analyzing Crimestop, his tormenter O’Brien, or Doublethink, but “in a natural clearing, a tiny grass knoll surrounded by tall saplings that shut it in completely” where he secretly meets a young woman who had passed him a note saying she loved him.   Away from the prying eyes of Big Brother and his spies, amidst bluebells and a torrent of song from a thrush, they come together almost wordlessly.  “Winston and Julia clung together, fascinated” as the thrush sang madly.  “The music went on and on, minute after minute, with astonishing variations, never once repeating itself, almost as if the bird were deliberately showing off its virtuosity…He stopped thinking and merely felt.”  Here the secret lovers affirm their humanity, the truth of sexual intimacy that is the enemy of all abstractions used by the powerful to control and manipulate normal people and to convince them to participate in killing others.  “Almost as swiftly as he had imagined it, she had torn her clothes off, and when she flung them aside it was with that same magnificent gesture by which a whole civilization seemed to be annihilated.”  Reveling in love-making in a free space outside the Party’s control, they felt they had triumphed. But as we learn in 1984 and should learn in the U.S.A. today, “seemed” is the key word.  Their triumph was temporary.  For sexual passion reveals truths that need to be confirmed in the mind.  In itself, sexual liberation can be easily manipulated, as it has been so effectively in the United States. “Repressive de-sublimation” Herbert Marcuse called it fifty years ago. You allow people to act out their sexual fantasies in commodified ways that can be controlled by the rulers, all the while ruling their minds and potential political rebelliousness. Sex becomes part of the service economy where people service each other while serving their masters.  Use pseudo-sex to sell them a way of life that traps them in an increasingly totalitarian social order that only seems free.  This has been accomplished primarily through screen culture and the concomitant confusion of sexual identity.  Perhaps you have noticed that over the past twenty-five years of growing social and political confusion, we have witnessed an exponential growth in “the electronic life,” the use of psychotropic drugs, and sexual disorientation.  This is no accident.  Wars have become as constant as Eros – the god of love, life, joy, and motion – has been divorced from sex as a stimulus and response release of tension in a “stressed” society.  Rollo May, the great American psychologist, grasped this: Indeed, we have set sex over against eros, used sex precisely to avoid the anxiety-creating involvements of eros…We are in flight from eros and use sex as the vehicle for the flight…Eros [which includes, but is not limited to, passionate sex] is the center of vitality of a culture – its heart and soul.  And when release of tension takes the place of creative eros, the downfall of the civilization is assured. Because Julia and Winston cannot permanently escape Oceania, but can only tryst, they succumb to Big Brother’s mind control and betray each other.  Their sexual affair can’t save them.   It is a moment of beauty and freedom in an impossible situation.  Of course, the hermetically sealed world of 1984 is not the United States.  Orwell created a society in which escape was impossible. It is, after all, an admonitory novel – not the real world.  Things are more subtle here; we still have some wiggle room – some – although the underlying truth is the same: the U.S. oligarchy, like “The Party,” “seeks power entirely for its own sake” and “are not interested in the good of others,” all rhetoric to the contrary. Our problem is that too many believe the rhetoric, and those who say they don’t really do at the deepest level.  Fly the flag and play the national anthem and their hearts are aflutter with hope.  Recycle old bromides about the next election when your political enemies will be swept out of office and excitement builds as though you had met the love of your life and all was well with the world. But understanding the history of public relations, advertising, propaganda, the CIA, the national security apparatus, technology, etc., makes it clear that such hope is baseless. For the propaganda in this country has penetrated far deeper than anyone can imagine, and it has primarily done this through advanced technology and the religion of technique – machines as pure abstractions – that has poisoned not just our minds, but the deepest wellsprings of the body’s truths and the erotic imagination that links us in love to all life on earth. In “Defence of Poetry,” Percy Bysshe Shelley writes: The great secret of morals is love; or a going out of our nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own. A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasure of his species must become his own. The great instrument of moral good is the imagination. We are now faced with the question: Can we escape the forces of propaganda and mind control that run so very deep into American life?  If so, how?  Let’s imagine a way out. Orwell makes it very clear that language is the key to mind control, as he delineates how Newspeak works. I think he is right.  And mind control also means the control of our bodies, Eros, our sex, our physical connections to all living beings and nature. Today the U.S. is reaching the point where “Oldspeak” – Standard English – has been replaced by Newspeak, and just “fragments of the literature of the past” survive here and there.  This is true for the schooled and unschooled.  In fact, those more trapped by the instrumental logic, disembodied data, and word games of the power elite are those who have gone through the most schooling, the indoctrination offered by the so-called “elite” universities. I suspect that more working-class and poor people still retain some sense of the old language and the fundamental meaning of words, since it is with their sweat and blood that they “earn their living.”  Many of the highly schooled are children of the power elite or those groomed to serve them, who are invited to join in living the life of power and privilege if they swallow their consciences and deaden their imaginations to the suffering their “life-styles” and ideological choices inflict on the rest of the world. In this world of The New York Times, Harvard, The New Yorker, Martha’s Vineyard, The Washington Post, Wall St., Goldman Sachs, the boardrooms of the ruling corporations, all the corporate media, etc., language has become debased beyond recognition.  Here, as Orwell said of Newspeak, “a heretical thought…should be literally unthinkable, at least as far as thought is dependent on words.  Its vocabulary was so constructed as to give exact and often very subtle expression to every meaning that a Party member could properly wish to express.”  The intelligently orthodox, he adds, must master the art of “doublethink” wherein they hold two contradictory ideas in their minds simultaneously, while accepting both of them.  This is the key trick of logic and language that allows the power elites and their lackeys in the U.S. today to master the art of self-deception and feel good about themselves as they plunder the world.  In this “Party” world, the demonization, degradation, and killing of others is an abstraction; their lives are spectral.  Orwell describes doublethink this way: To tell deliberate lives while genuinely believing in them, to forget any fact that has become inconvenient, and then, when it becomes necessary again, to draw it back from oblivion for just so long as it is needed, to deny the existence of objective reality and all the while to take account of the reality one denies – all this is indispensably necessary.  Even in using the word doublethink it is necessary to exercise doublethink.  For by using the word one admits one is tampering with reality; by a fresh act of doublethink one erases this knowledge; and so on indefinitely, with the lie always one leap ahead of the truth. It may sound silly to say, but language, as its etymology tells us, begins with the tongue (Latin, lingua).  And the tongue is a bell, tolling out its meaning.  Indeed, all language springs from the body – is body language. And when language becomes abstract and devoid of blood, it becomes etiolated and unable to convey the truth that is the mystical body of the world.  It becomes a viper’s tongue, dividing the “good” people from the “bad” so the good can eliminate the bad who have become abstractions. When Winston Smith and Julia hid in the arbor and for once felt free and alive as they fucked – despite its transitoriness – Orwell was suggesting something that his dystopian novel denies is possible: that we can escape our own 1984 in 2018 by returning to fundamentals. Whitman told us that if anything is sacred it is the human body, and he sung “the body electric.”  This is the task of artists: to sing the words that tell the truth the propagandists try to deny. James Joyce writes in The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Welcome, oh life!  I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race. Perhaps we should add: in the smithy of our souls and bodies.  His fellow Irishman, William Butler Yeats, brings us down to earth with the words: Now that my ladder’s gone/I must lie down where all the ladders start/In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart. “Yes, I said. Yes, I will, yes.” http://clubof.info/