#I am still contemplating if I want this to be part of the Elemental Plane of Fire

[newtafterdark]

Is it hot in here or is it just me~? 😈🔥

It took me a bit, but I finally finished the funny little pause screen for my Twitch channel!

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Distance Series-Epilogue

Thanks again to everyone that suggested ideas for this series! It was a joy to collaborate with you all! We’ll have to do this again sometime. 

Here’s my Main Masterlist

Here’s the Distance Series Masterlist

“Look who it is, Duke,” Calum coos, lifting the dog into the frame. “Look who it is.” Duke flicks his gaze at the camera, just for a second before turning his head back towards Calum. She laughs, adjusting her headphones on her head. She double checks, she has her printed out tentative schedule with the release of her album and the upcoming tour dates. Some haven’t been confirmed yet just because she hasn’t talked to Calum yet. “Duke, I’m not who you’re supposed to be looking at.”

“Oh, the man’s old just in love with his pops. It’s understandable,” she returns, grinning. 

Calum nods, settling Duke into his lap for the time being. “I’m shocked you’re home still.” It’s nine in the morning his time, which is about noon for her. He expected her to at least be at the studio space for rehearsals by now, sneaking off for lunch and to take his call. Not for her to still be dressed in her pj’s curled up in the high chairs at her kitchen table. 

“Self care day that I needed to take.”

“What’s going on? Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Mostly just fitting time in to see you is my biggest concern.” With her album heading out for the world, she knows the whirlwind that waits for her. Prior to now things were a tad easier, Calum’s touring was packed kind of tight but she wasn’t traveling. Her brand deals were all complete and the album just waiting in the wings, already finished. So she could hop on a plane when he had a couple days off. Now things are gearing up to be tight for her and Calum’s schedule has slowed down. Though she knows most of his time now will be album focused. 

“We could’ve moved this up a day or two if you needed.”

“It’s a little too late for that, but it wasn’t as bad as before. I know things are gonna be better scheduled now. It’s okay.”

She’s right about it being too late now. But he’s still a little ticked that she didn’t say anything sooner. And she can see it. He raises that left eyebrow at her and before he can open her mouth, she’s already talking. “I know, I know. Communication! At this point, I need it tattooed to my fucking forehead. I didn’t want you to freak out or try to squeeze it in sooner into our schedules when the talk was already going to happen.”

He nods. She’s aware. Which is better than nothing. But he still doesn’t like the fact she holds some stuff in. Maybe in a way, that’s a thing he has to learn to love. But at the same time, he doesn’t want it to be the thing that consistently causes them issues. It would obviously be easy if she moved to LA, or closer to his side of the coast at the very least. But they’ve learned to make it work. Extra flights out when they both have a pocket of time to really enjoy each other’s company. “I just worry about you that’s all. You can get in your own head. But I’m here for you.”

“I know, I really do. I just hate to be a burden, ya know? When there’s like 8 billion other things to worry about. I’m sorry.”

He nods, fingers working over the top of Duke’s head. “I am glad you took the day off though. It’s good that you saw you needed a break and didn’t let it continue to bubble and lead to something bad. I’m proud.”

A tiny grin dances across her face. “Thanks. I’m working on it.”

“I can see the progress.” Duke stands, head pointed to the floor and Calum lowers him back to the floor. He only goes a couple feet to snuggle up with his favorite dinosaur toy on his dog bed. There’s practically one in every part of the house. Even if Calum tries not to spoil the old man, he can’t help it.

“There’s a writing retreat,” Calum starts once they start discussing plans in October. Not a huge touring season but he knows he has some time off. “It’s like three weeks long, up in Malibu. And I know like it’s not the mountains, but if you have time off, I would love to bring you along.”

“Wouldn’t you be working? I don’t want to interrupt, baby.”

Her genuine concern is endearing but he knows she’s not quite picking up what he meant. With a quick smile, Calum shakes his head. “No, I mean like, I want you to come write with us. Or like maybe we could work on something together, if you want. The producers we’re linking up with I think would be a great fit for you and your work. And like, spending time with my girl and possibly getting a song or two done seems like a great compromise.”

“Oh. What are the dates?” Calum lists them off. The first week is a bit of a wash because she has studio time booked but the last two weeks are completely open for her. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you in your element,” she teases. 

“Oh, it’s not that impressive, really.”

“No, you’re pretty impressive if you ask me. Or Duke. But I think we might be biased.”

His giggles echo in her headphones and he hides himself by kissing the top of Duke’s head. He picked the dog back up halfway through their conversation and Duke seems content to sit right there in his pops arms too. “You’re gonna make me blush,” he squeaks out. 

“Oh, your cheeks have already told on you, my dear. They have already told on you.”

__________________________________________

The bus lurks beneath her, riding from one festival to the next. She knows she could’ve flown. But she likes the bus. Once they hit the highway, it just glides and she doesn’t have to think too much. She has exactly 66 more days until she’s home again. Which puts her at 71 more days until she flies out to see Calum. He’s still in LA with a glance to her phone, she tries to calculate the time, her own mind a little foggy. If he’s asleep, he just won’t answer. That’s fine. His voicemail has the sound of his own voice and that’s really all she needs right now. 

Tucked under her sheets, as rocking with the motion of the bus again, she raises her phone to her ear, listening as it rings. It rings and then rings and rings. Finally Calum’s voice kicks in from his voicemail. “Sorry I can’t reach the phone. Please leave a message and I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

The phone’s silent just a moment and there’s a beep. “I’m sorry to do this right now. Just needed to hear your voice. It sucks being away. I’m excited for the retreat though. Can’t wait to squish your cheeks. Can’t wait to kiss you. Yeah, just had to get that off my chest, I guess. I should be sleeping. I’m on the bus at the moment and my body is tired. Mind was just heavy. I hope you had a good day, or having a good day, or a great night. I don’t remember the time difference anymore.” Her soft laughter interupts her. “That’s sad isn’t it? The only thing keeping me sane right now are your daily updates. And well, the pictures of my dog from my friend. So two things. Wait, no, Duke. That’s three. Ah, what does it matter to know how to count right now? I love you.” She pauses. They haven’t said that to each other yet. And the moment feels a little ruined because it’s not even to his face. But it’s so true, she does love him. She worries if he’s eating alright and worried he’s sleeping okay. “I’m blessed to have you in my life. And I really hope we get years and years together. Uh, tell the guys I said hi. Give Duke kisses from me. Talk to you later.”

When Calum gets to his phone, up way too late and thumping over a bassline and general anxiety, he spies the voicemail. He grins, knowing it’s better to wait until after his shower and after he’s gotten comfortable in the bed. He plugs his phone into the charger, behind his bedside table and rests on his side. Her voice is soft as he listens to the playback. Like she had her cheeks smashed into the pillows. It makes him a little sad that he missed her call, knowing that she just needed to talk to him. 

It’s been an hour since she called. And maybe she’s still awake. He contemplates stopping the playback and just giving her a ring but then, quietly he hears her say, “I love you.” And his heart stops. His fingers tremble resting against his chest. Her confession continues and Calum can feel his eyes welling with tears. He sniffles once, listening as the voicemail ends. He plays it back one more time, skipping ahead to her statement. 

And before his fingers can stop him, before he can over rationalize that she’s sleeping and needs her rest. Her phone rings. His heart thunders. “Is everything okay?” she rushes out. Her voice is grovely, like she just woke up. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry if I woke you. But I didn’t want to wait a second more to tell you that in return. And I’m not saying it just because you said, I mean it. It’s why I’m like so on you about taking care of your mental health.”

And their breathing crackles through their receivers. “Not being able to kiss you right now should honestly be a crime,” she returns, the first one to say anything. 

Calum exhales his laughter. “Not being able to kiss you is a crime.”

“You cannot just one up me like that, Hood. That’s so not fair!”

_______________________________

Poised at the piano, she lets her fingers brush over the keys but doesn’t press down into them. Her fingertips are aching. They want to get something out, but her brain’s not computing it, it’s not able to output it correctly. Slender fingers slide in from her peripheral, and slowly get closer before covering her eyes. “Guess who?” Calum whispers next to her ear. It sends a shiver down her spine. 

“You’re supposed to be getting food,” she laughs, fingers still resting on the keys. 

“I did. But clearly you don’t want to leave this piano.”

Reclining his chest, she presses down. The sound swells and it’s grating but never of them care too much, laughing as she lifts her digits and slides out from the bench. When they join the rest of the retreat in the kitchen, they linger against the counter, plates in hand, shoulder to shoulder. After snagging one of her fries, Calum grins and kisses her. “My team and I are looking at some different options,” she starts, placing the spoon into her bowl of soup. 

“Different options?”

“I love New York. I really do. But we’re looking at the fact that a lot of the producers that want to work with me and that I want to work with are pulling more from LA.  And I could continue to live in New York and fly out. But it’s a hassle. And it puts me closer to you, so I’ve been looking at some places. I can’t quite afford a place on my own just yet, but--”

“You could stay with me. And like, if you really, really, want your own space, I absolutely understand. But if you need to lay low for a little bit before then, my door’s always open.”

She rests her head on his shoulder. “I figured you’d say that. I have a place in mind but the bassist in my band needs a place too. Our drummer has her girlfriend so I agreed that she could crash with me. It’s nothing against you.”

Calum places his meal down and lifts her chin. “No, I get it. Gives your space, allows you to get acclimated without the pressure of me around. It’s smart.”

“But, I will absolutely be bugging the shit out of you to take Duke out on walks and hikes.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

When they return to the room, she settles ready to help the boys with the latest song. But in the back of my mind, she can feel the notes twitching her fingers. So she stands, tip toeing into  the other room, and settles back down at the piano. She takes her phone and opens it up to record. Whatever is brewing in her brain she wants to get it recorded. She plucks at the keys, eyes closing to keep herself from thinking too hard. 

Soon, she can hear a rumble. She knows it’s Calum. They’ve been working on the melody all morning. But now it seems to be coming together. He hums. She’s been working on more experimental/instrumental work. Less about lyrics, though sometimes a refrain comes to mine and they sing. It’s more about the feeling, allowing the notes to express the emotions that are just below the surface, that are trying to break through the surface. 

Calum listened to the first couple of tracks she’s produced since the beginning of the week and he suggested she play something on the piano. She thought it would be a long shot. But now, as she listens to the twinkling keyes hugged up against the throaty bass, she’s pretty impressed. There’s nothing heavily prescribed and it’s nice to just make noise. It’s nice to know even if it sounds bad it’s just for fun. It’s just to see what they can do with the tools at their disposal. They play for what feels like just a blimp in time, hardly a blink, and she thinks her fingers might be cramping too. But she carries onto the end, letting everything out. 

And with a slight echo Calum finishes a beat or two behind her. They pause but she can see on his face that he’s not quite done so she nods, wanting him to continue. He almost doesn’t, almost tells her it’s her project but there’s something still on his chest, so he keeps plucking at the strings. She listens to him, eyes closing and grins at the sounds he’s able to produce just off the top of his head. 

It’s another minute or two he finishes and she pauses the recording on her phone. The mic on her phone probably won’t do it justice, but she plays it back, at full volume, setting her phone on the table between them. The playback is a little soft and the piano almost sounds like it’s peaking. She almost wishes she had someone else to set up the room to record, but it all happened so fast. 

“Sounds really good,” Calum returns. 

“Not too bad,” she jokes, taking her phone once it’s done.

“I really think this project is really cool. I don’t know if you’ll ever put it or anything. But I really think you’ve got something special.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re on the project.” If it weren’t for the bass in Calum’s hand, she would’ve playfully shoved him. Calum glowers at her, just for a moment and she giggles running down the hallway. 

“I’m going to remember that tonight!”

She stops, jaw dropping. “You gotta put me out the room, Calum? Make me sleep on the sofa?”

“I just might,” he returns. 

“You don’t have the gall. Gonna cuddle Michael in the place of me?”

Calum cracks open the door, slowly. “Don’t go give me any ideas. He’s not mean to me.”

She holds the door open, allowing Calum to get back into the room without nicking the instrument. “Well, I hope he keeps you warm.”

The group turns to them. But Calum’s facing her. Her upturned nose, arms folded across her chest. There’s a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Michael, I’m bunking in your room tonight.”

“That just means I get the whole mattress to myself,” she returns. 

“O-okay,” Michael returns just as Calum calls out, “Never mind, Michael. I can’t let her win.”

She laughs, wrapping her arms around his torso, pressing her face into his back. “It’s about compromise and communication.” A famous phrase with Calum and he knows it. His fingers wrap around her wrist. For a moment, it’s just them in the room. Her listening to his heart beating and him feeling the rise and fall of her chest before he speaks. 

“So we just put together something amazing.”

“If this is how you announce a baby,” Ashton teases. “I’ll be disappointed at that phrasing but very happy to be an uncle. I think I’ve got great potential.”

“Hmm, does a song count as a baby in this context?” Calum asks, giggling at Ashton’s comment. 

“Not quite what I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.” 

[autumnblogs]

Day 10: I think the true purpose of this game is to see how many qualifiers we can get to precede the word "self" and still understand what we're talking about

https://homestuck.com/story/1642

I don’t think anyone has said much about Calsprite. There’s not much to be said. I’m pretty sure, based on the Juju rules, that this Lil Cal probably doesn’t count as the real one - supposedly, any version of a Juju from a Doomed Timeline doesn’t count as the real thing? In any case, it’s a very mild comfort that this being isn’t a source of even more power for the already arbitrarily powerful Lord English.

Another thing that I think is interesting to note is that Dave’s use of iPhone technology marks him, in my opinion, as a poseur. While I am by no means advocating against buying from Microsoft’s competitors, but Mac vs. PC is one of those parts of my childhood, and as an actual IT Professional I’ve learned more than a little about the way that they brand themselves and the history of Apple’s struggle for market share - Apple doesn’t advertise its products as computing alternatives, or as productivity software, or whatever - Apple sells a lifestyle. Apple products are styled as the sexier, more cerebral, more artistic, more individualistic alternative to Microsoft’s products, a computer not for the Office Drone but for... well, the Hipster. Hipsters have stopped really being a thing, or at least, nobody calls themselves that any more.

Like the vast majority of subcultures, I suspect the hipster subculture has kind of been swallowed by time, its symbols expropriated by Capitalism, its center hollowed out and its aesthetics packaged for mass production, as the cynical and jaded approach to popular culture of the hipster, along with its more enthusiastic counterpart “the geek” (actually pretty well personified by John!) became more mainstream - both stereotypes are probably a part of Homestuck’s general commentary on fandom. Fandom is something I think Homestuck talks about, but I don’t think it’s something Homestuck is about in quite the same way that it’s about, say, Narratives, or Reproduction.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/1643

While Homestuck has been a story that involves some time loops, Act 4 is where it really gets off the ground as an actual Time Travel story. The thing about Time Travel stories, like the thing about Cosmic Horror Stories, is that once a story starts having Time Travel, or Cosmic Horrors in it, it’s that genre forever. This is why DND, for example, is part of a cosmic horror story, because something like 20 years ago, an adventure writer decided that there should be the Far Realm, and now it casts its sticky pall over the rest of the game’s setting.

Homestuck sidesteps this issue largely by involving all of the genres that do this to a story, and just kind of blending them all together into a genre-busting stew. Homestuck is a superhero story. Homestuck is a creation story. Homestuck is a theogony. Homestuck is a cosmic horror story. Homestuck is a time travel story. And so on and so on.

https://homestuck.com/story/1657

And so began one of the greatest partnerships in the history of Paradox Space.

Also of note is that Terezi compares Dave to fire here, not the first or the last bit of symbolism linking him to that element. It’s pretty strongly linked, in general, with The Hero, in kind of the same way that the color Red, and the Sword is in these sorts of things.

Dave fits the Classic Hero Archetype a lot better in a lot of ways than John does, and Bro has been training him for that role since birth. On a much larger scale, Lord English has decreed from his position as the overlord of Paradox Space that Dave is the Hero who should defeat him.

https://homestuck.com/story/1663

Friendship proves once again to be one of the most powerful forces in the universe, changing John’s direction, and steering him away from disaster.

https://homestuck.com/story/1667

Not much to say about this conversation, but the transition between Karkat’s explanation of the Veil and the beginning of [S]Jack: Ascend is smooth as fuck.

https://homestuck.com/story/1670

Our very first self-indulgent author self-insert; the Fourth Wall is explicitly identified as a Fenestrated Plane. 1 Point for the Narrative Contrivance hypothesis.

https://homestuck.com/story/1692

Dave actually does care immensely. Not only does he spend a ton of his time being overshadowed by cooler more powerful men like Bro, and John, now Dave even has to spend his time being overshadowed by cooler versions of himself - and that goes in both directions - both Davesprite and Dave seem to think that the other is the more real, more cool Dave!

https://homestuck.com/story/1710

As a Light Player, Rose is preoccupied with Meaning. She sees it everywhere, and she certainly sees where it is not (at least when she is not Miserable with a capital M). Meaning and Value - Fortune - is not intrinsic to this item, but it is instead bestowed upon it by the fact that Rose loves it, and by the work that Rose put into it. The Rabbit is a labor of love and a treasured belonging, and the Love in the Rabbit is the Light that the Seer Sees.

https://homestuck.com/story/1714

I’m pretty sure that John and Kanaya only talk to each other about twice in all of Homestuck, which is a bit of a shame! John and Karkat are really a lot more alike each other than either of them is comfortable admitting (which I think is probably why Dave is attracted to Karkat). By the transitive law of friendship, it seems to me that John and Kanaya would probably be pretty good friends. On the subject of the other diagonal line in the quadrangle of friendship, I wonder if Rose and Karkat talk to each other pretty much ever?

https://homestuck.com/story/1715

The clear indication here is a parallel between Dave and Sollux, but like a lot of things that probably didn’t go as intended with the Trolls, nothing much ends up materializing from it. I suppose that by fucking off to do nothing for the rest of the adventure, Sollux gets to live Dave’s dream for him, so there’s that.

https://homestuck.com/story/1720

Adorable. This is one of the happiest little moments in the comic.

So often, characters are cut off from one another by moments. They just miss each other, or literally can’t understand each other because of supernatural shenanigans, or can’t communicate with each other on screen because of the way that communication can’t happen unmediated in Homestuck.

And even when they can talk to each other, often the awkwardness and pain of communicating with other people, of trying to get them to understand you the way you actually are, instead of only seeing you one certain way, is too great, and communication proves impossible.

But here, Rose and Dave don’t need words to hang out.

They shut up and jam.

(It’s also incredibly sweet that Rose‘s actual in-person esteem of Dave is so great that she cannot restrain her own thought process. For all her joshing, she really does think Dave is cool.)

https://homestuck.com/story/1722

Also incredibly sweet that Rose’s first order of business as soon as they’re done playing around is to destroy that goddamn puppet.

https://homestuck.com/story/1754

Just missed him.

https://homestuck.com/story/1775

I wish not to contemplate the implication that Homestuck Sprite Mode Legs are actually wafer thin.

https://homestuck.com/story/1812

Nearly as soon as Rose has awoken and absorbed herself from the Doomed Timeline, she gets down to business alchemizing a lot of dangerous and powerful artifacts in preparation to fuck shit up. I’ve never thought about it much before, but I think it’s not hard to say that the memories she absorbed from the other timeline cause Rose to embrace her more reckless and less charitable side. She comments on her own dangerous pursuit of power, and then immediately ignores that train of thought.

https://homestuck.com/story/1836

Dave sure is fixated on bottoms.

https://homestuck.com/story/1852

Note to self. Come back to this.

So far, the only thing of note is the number 12, a portent related to the victors of Homestuck, if only coincidentally.

https://homestuck.com/story/1857

Dave’s sincerity senses are tingling. Maybe it’s an instinct since he and Roxy are pretty similar people, maybe it’s just because Dave himself is not nearly as insincere as he wants to be.

Dave’s anxiety about being watched is also probably best exemplified by his insistence on hiding his eyes behind glasses.

https://homestuck.com/story/1887

Adorable!

I wonder if Andrew already had the sprite designs for these squirts, and their names picked out at this time.

The hair and accessories are certainly correct.

https://homestuck.com/story/1895

Before I get too much further into this sequence, I’d like to pause and take a second to just appreciate this prose. The style is captivating.

The shipping pun is also pretty good.

https://homestuck.com/story/1903

BladeKindEyeWear has already done a pretty good job explaining what the Ultimate Riddle is, so I won’t belabor it too much more than he has here. The Ultimate Riddle itself is, “What Will You Do?” And the answer to it is, “Do What You Will.”

Do What You Will isn’t just the inscription on AURYN, it’s also an extremely old phrase intended for spiritual enlightenment, historically first formulated by Saint Augustine in his Sermon On Love, where he puts it thusly, “Love, and Do What You Will.” The Love that Augustine is talking about is not Romantic Love or even familial love, but Universal Unconditional Love - goodwill toward everyone and everything, to have one’s Heart’s Desire be that everyone should flourish and be happy.

Another formulation, the Wiccan Rede is, “An It Harm None, Do What Ye Will,” perhaps a more detached, declaration. In either case, the Will here is not talking about merely chasing simple wants, but an invitation to follow one’s true will, not to respond to simple passions, but to take voluntary action in accordance with who one is as a person.

https://homestuck.com/story/1905

threatening.............

https://homestuck.com/story/1922

Jake Harley begins a life of serial abandonment.

https://homestuck.com/story/1930

I really should have brought this up first when Rose and Davesprite went back into time, but this is about the time Homestuck starts to get lousy with all kinds of alternate selves, Dream Selves, Doomed Selves, and so on and so on, and from a narrative frame of reference, they’re actually all literally the same guy - the actions of one version of a character inform us about all versions of that character.

More on that later.

https://homestuck.com/story/1931

More Roleplaying. John has a wild imagine spot.

https://homestuck.com/story/1934

Dave stares at the blood on his hands, and contemplates his death for a long time.

https://homestuck.com/story/1936

Some immediate foreshadowing in here. Jade, I’m pretty sure, is one of the few people in Tavros’ life who shows him some genuine unconditional friendliness, so it’s no wonder that he latches onto her.

The way he does is still pretty creepy though.

https://homestuck.com/story/1940

As long as I’m mostly focusing on the emotional dimension of Homestuck, the two major emotional beats in this Flash are the Sovereign Slayer slaughtering WV’s army, revealing the source of his self-loathing and trauma, and the death of Jade’s Dream Self.

The death of her Dream Self is not nearly the beginning of Jade’s Trauma Conga Line, but it’s definitely the first in the chain of events that leads her to finally snap out of her learned helplessness and blind optimism, and to start taking her fate into her own hands. She’s been so sure of her destiny up to this point, and now things are finally starting to get out of hand.

Also, I choose to believe that the bizarre Squiddles interlude is the first moment that the Dark Gods make contact with Jade’s psyche. They know she’s about to die, and they’re starting to communicate with her.

Anyway, that’s all for today.

Yesterday’s cough turned out to be post-viral infection, since I had Covid the week of the 11th, so for now this is Cam signing off, Medicated, and Not Alone.

[athomeish]

Coronavirus is dragging us through some delicate times right now. The situation is, let’s say, far from ideal. Tens of countries are currently paralysed and, who knows, it might as well shake things up some more. In Spain, where I am right now, it made people go into quarantine. And let me tell you, quarantine sucks. It’s so boring. Not like, “Oh I don’t know what to do now cuz my Netflix show is over” kind of boring. It’s genuinely SO boring. But it does gift you time. Time to contemplate e v e r y t h i n g. So here’s a few words about something I’ve been thinking about lots over the years and now more than ever. Home.

The main thing about quarantine is that you’re stuck at home. You’re in lockdown and have to remain inside pretty much at all times. But if you’re lucky, and I consider myself extremely lucky to have a safe space to wait this over at, at least you’re at home. H o m e.

Okay, let’s stop here and talk about that word for a second. I mean, we’ve got time, right?

Like many others around the world, I’ve been stuck at “home” for the past couple of weeks. Right now “home” means a (super) tiny flat in Madrid. An apartment I fall asleep in and wake up in everyday. An address printed in shit quality ink in my residency documents. A space. My space. But, is it home yet?

Now, you see, my worried mum called me the other day and said “I want to bring you home. I’ll buy you flights home.” What she meant was “I’ll put you on a plane from Spain to Poland, so as you spend the quarantine in the place you were brought up in. A building where your family lives.” But, is it still home?

Right now I’m here, in Spain. And I’m here because I chose to. I arrived a while back, like a little nomad, and hoped for the best.

It turned out not too bad. Madrid is where my life happens now and it does indeed feel like home. I know its smell, its little secrets and hidden gems. I know at what time rubbish lorry collects trash in my street. I know that my neighbours from 3rd and 1st floor hate each other. I know my floor makes lots of noise when you step on it and that one of the windows leaks when it rains too much. I know every little detail because it’s my place. I’d be comfortable calling it my home. But then again, not quite.

Because then, what about the house in Poland? What about all the memories made in it? What about my family who live there? What about my room which hasn’t changed since I left. Hold on a minute! Aren’t those just elements of a defence mechanism launched by nostalgia? Let’s focus on facts.

Last time I was “back home” an air refresher made me jump by releasing the product as I walked past it. After dinner I kept trying to place my plate on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, while it’s been years since they’re moved to the bottom one. Last but not least, I had to ask for the WiFi password because the network was not saved on my phone. I mean…

So, here’s what I think.

I think I’m too attached to the memory of my home, where I’d have coffee with my mum every afternoon and where my cat stays in my bed overnight. I think it’s hard for me to admit that I’m more of a guest in it now and I’ll probably never form part of that household again. But despite it all, I strongly believe I’ll never be able to not call it home.

You may ask yourself why on earth would I even contemplate it. Or maybe you’d want to recite one of the famous lines, so happily promoted in Poundland’s decor section, “Home is where your heart is,” “Home is where your bed is,” “Home is where…” I’ll stop you there, because although there is a little bit of truth in all of them, I’m afraid they simplify the issue just a tad too much.

You know, the key to this whole situation is that I like being a nomad. I like changing my address from time to time. I love packing my bags and moving to new places. But at the same time, I suddenly feel like it’s time to sit on my bum and find a place I could *really* call home. So I find myself in a limbo. And I’m hanging in there, somewhere between a mortgage and plans for the next big move.

I guess the best way to finish this little story is with yet another cliché. “Home is where I am”. Do you like it? Ha! Took me a minute to figure it out. But really, “home” is a feeling. You carry it within you. And if you feel like it refers to more than one place, then let it be. It’s fine, there are no rules.

Now that I have it sort of clear, I’ll just have to get used to it.

And what about you? What do you call home? Would love to hear your thoughts! In the meantime, make sure you’re taking good care of yourself and those around you. Have a lovely day.

O.

[scrollofthoth]

So it begins...

Emergent Animism: Exploring a Spirit Haunted World

By Threskiornis

Foreword

“Magick is, if anything, extradimensional diplomacy.”

– Gordon White, Pieces of Eight: Chaos Magic Essays and Enchantments

Magi throughout the ages have defined themselves through their relationships with spiritual entities. Call them what you want. Their names are legion. Gods, angels, demons, djinn, elementals, faeries, ghosts, specters – the names and classifications vary from age to age and place to place. Every land and every culture has had contact with creatures that were in some way more than just material being. The nature of these beings often reflects that of the culture which discovered them, but they also have surprising commonalities no matter their origin. Even today people report contact with a multitude of cryptids and aliens. A Devil stalks New Jersey. A monster swims in Loch Ness. Bigfoot roams the Pacific Northwest, and Yeti in the Himalayas. Mothmen, Dogmen, and Lizardmen continue to be sighted all around the United States, and the world.

Some magi approach these beings for personal gain. Others simply want to communicate with and understand beings that exist beyond our knowledge of space and time. They can be approached with reverence, awe, and worship. Although most magi see themselves as equals. They can be approached with the intent to cajole, threaten, and command. Though I hope to convince you that a bully that attacks spirits is still just a bully.

To be certain, a magus can be successful without ever communicating with a spiritual entity. There exists plenty of valid magical paradigms that eschew dealing with spirits and concentrate on more abstract ideas. But if you’re like me, you thrive on the interchange with things that communicate and think. You need something more than just an idea to contemplate, but something that wants to engage with you just as much as you want to engage with them.

In our last book, Emergent Magick, some felt that we failed to deliver on the goods. It was never meant to be a how-to of spells and formulae. We insist that each magus find their own way. I’m afraid some of you may be disappointed again. This is a book on animism, not shamanism. And it defines animism in the broadest sense – communicating with spirits. There will be discussion of shamanistic techniques. This book will talk about communicating with the spirits of trees, animals, mountains, and rivers. But it contains much more than that. It’s an all-encompassing paradigm that gives a magus the tools to approach any spiritual entity.

It must also be stressed, and will be repeated, that Emergent Animism is just one Emergent Magick paradigm. It is not the “official” Emergent Magick paradigm. In fact, the contents of this book are in no way required to practice Emergent Magick. What it does provide is an excellent example of a classical magical belief system explored through the process of Emergent Magick. Even if your own personal magick doesn’t focus on spirit contact, Emergent Animism will give plenty of insights on how to use the Emergent Magick process in your own work.

Let’s get started. The spirits are waiting.

 Threskiornis, 16670, “Ego Sum Legio”

Scribe of the Order of Emergent Magi

11/20/2019

 Introduction

 As much as I would like to avoid it, I feel I must first define Emergent Magick (EMK). If you enjoy this publication, I recommend picking up, Emergent Magick: Rebuilding Our Tribes Through Ritual and Meaning. It really needs an entire book to get the concept across.

EMK defines magick as, “The art of altering consciousness.” In essence, the universe itself is created and directed by consciousness, and magick is a way to influence that consciousness. Consciousness itself lacks universally accepted definition. For our purposes it includes any sufficiently complex system that can perceive. If you accept that sub-atomic systems are sufficiently complex, and quantum theory proves that particles have some form of perception (in that they will act as individual particles or as a wave, depending on if they are being watched), this includes everything in the universe to a greater or lesser degree. Art, the activity of creation, influences consciousness. Ritual is the art of the magus, and it is specifically designed to alter consciousness.

In Emergent Magick, a magus performs rituals with the purpose of creating altered states of consciousness. The magus then takes what they learn from those rituals to build an ever more concise paradigm, essentially a model for the universe and a method to alter it. While a magus can certainly learn from the magi who came before them, it is what they learn through altered states of consciousness that best informs their magick. What a magus learns through altered states has more weight than anything they can learn by other means.

The ultimate goal of the magus is to perceive the unity of consciousness. To interact with it as part of a larger whole. This manifests in the physical plane by forming tribes of magi and working with them to experience their paradigm, form bonds of love and acceptance, and to influence the collective unconscious through the creation of culture.

At least that’s the short form description of Emergent Magick. Which finally brings us back to Emergent Animism (EMAN).  

 Emergent Animism is the art of communicating with the spirits.

 At least that’s the one-sentence vital core of it. Some old-school magi like to have things summed up in a sentence or two (and I am one of those magi). Why Emergent? First, because I am one of the creators of Emergent Magick and it is how I currently define my practice. Since Emergent Animism is my personal paradigm, it comes from an EMK perspective. Because the methods used to explore and define the paradigm are the methods of EMK. Personal experience takes precedent over accepted knowledge (though you should still be doing research). Those experiences are then shared with my personal tribe and their experiences added to the body of knowledge. You may notice the shifting tense there, because this is work that has been performed and is ongoing.

Which brings us to animism. Much smarter people with better sources have described animism. And I really want to just tell people to go read Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, by Mircea Eliade and Willard R. Trask, and then come back and continue reading this. But I understand that’s not a realistic expectation, so I’m going to give you my woefully inadequate description. Animism has been called the world’s first religion, and from the archaeological evidence and current anthropology there is little reason to doubt that all hunter-gatherers practiced some form of animism. Animism as a world view, sees the universe as populated with spirits. In animism, all things have some vital essence that can be communicated with, from spirits of rivers, mountains, and lakes, to trees, rocks, and clouds, also the spirits of humans, animals, insects, and the spirits of those living creatures that have died. Some animists also believe in alien spirits that come from other dimensions of reality. The practice of animism is the communication with these spirits through some form of altered state of consciousness. This can be ritual, dance, music, meditation, and the use of psychoactive substances. Shamanism is a particular type of animism where individuals of a tribe use altered states of consciousness to contact the spirit realm, referred to as journeying, and petitions the spirits for the benefit of the shaman and their tribe. I do not consider myself a shaman because I do not belong to an indigenous culture with a shamanistic tradition. I do, however, use many of the tools of shamanism in my practice.

In Emergent Animism, spirit is synonymous with consciousness. So, the art of magick in EMAN terms is the art of communicating with the spirits. Which entails all forms of conversations, pacts, offerings, and all the other traditional and non-traditional methods of contacting them. Although the goal of realizing a universal consciousness remains, perceiving a fragmented consciousness is the best humans can do in most circumstances. EMAN theorizes that working with beings made of pure consciousness will bring us closer to that goal.

Know right off the bat that I don’t think anyone should try to pick this up whole-cloth and use it as their own. All magi must ultimately discover their own paradigm and follow that. But I do know it has been helpful for me as a magus to read about other people’s magical perspective. To see what works for them and learn from it. I find the magical world to be sorely lacking in resources that describe exactly what magi are doing. There’s plenty of description of rituals and theory, but little of what a magus actually does on a day-to-day basis. I hope I can add a unique perspective and inspire some people to try these practices themselves. I say, “don’t follow my path,” but do feel free to steal anything that can work for you.

In Emergent Magick: Rebuilding Our Tribes Through Ritual and Meaning, there was some brief discussion of the Models of Magick. The Models of Magick are essentially different theories on how magick works. These include: Spirit Model, Energy Model, Psychological Model, and Meta-model. The Spirit Model is essentially synonymous with our definition of animism, in that all magick works through the agency of some spiritual being. The Energy Model posits that all magick works by manipulating certain energies. The Psychological Model sums up magick as a means to influence your own conscious and subconscious mind to make changes through yourself. The Information Model is somewhat similar to EMKs belief that consciousness creates the universe, and that consciousness is simply information. The Meta-model encompasses all other models and instructs the magus to use whichever model they find most useful at the time. Most magi follow a nuanced form of the Meta-model, since no one model can fully explain all forms of magick.

At first glance, EMAN seems firmly entrenched in the Spirit Model. You will notice that this book generally takes that perspective, and sees spirits as actual, fully-realized, entities in their own right. This doesn’t mean that EMAN can’t be effective within other models of magick. Perhaps you see spirits as just another form of energy. Maybe for you, the spirits are a reflection of your own subconscious. In the end, it doesn’t matter, as long as your magick is working for you.

[darquedeath4444]

The Deity of Spring

Chapter EIGHT

Deidara slowly followed the Deity, her companions, and the rest of his team as they made their way deeper into the trees. Naruto and Sasuke were whispering between themselves and despite the way everyone had sheathed their weapons, he could feel the way none of his teammates relaxed.

Soon, he caught sight of something peeking out from between the trees. “Is that a house?” He asked.

“Seems like it,” Sasori said.

“So, Goddess live in houses in the middle of killer forests?”

“Seems like it,” Sasori said again.

Sakura walked straight towards the door and turned towards them. “Please, do make yourselves at home.”

Deidara was surprised to find that the house was just like something one might have found back when the Elemental Nations still existed as individual countries. The pinkette gestured towards a table, then followed Sasuke as he helped Naruto upstairs. The two of them returned a while later and soon joined them with trays of tea.

“I am afraid we do not have much here,” Sakura said apologetically. Sasuke pulled out a chair for her and she sat down.

“Please don’t trouble yourselves,” Itachi said. “Thank you for inviting us in.”

Deidara suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as Itachi conversed with a Goddess, albeit a rather pretty looking one, as though he were talking to an acquaintance he had come across by chance after years.

Sasuke took a seat next to the pinkette then poured her, and himself, a cup of tea before he rather unceremoniously shoved the teapot in their direction. Sakura took a sip before she linked her hands in front of her and leaned in towards them. “Now, tell me what you are looking for.”

Itachi, their designated spokesperson, cleared his throat. “Almost five years ago, rumors began arriving at the Elemental Nations, carried by travelers, of how an unknown force had decimated the area around the ruins of the Otsutsuki compound. Soon, Zetsu began appearing near the borders of the nations and the number of refugees increased. None of us took it seriously back then,” he admitted. “Then, everything changed soon after. A horned woman appeared before us. She claimed that her name was Kaguya, and she proceeded to flatten the capital cities of the elemental Nations with an unseeable force. Within seconds, everything we had ever known was simply gone.”

Deidara tried to gauge Sakura’s reaction. There was clear sorrow in her green eyes and as Itachi spoke, she raised a hand to her face. “She was angry,” she whispered. “so, so angry. She did not want to forgive the world, and I guess her anger has not died away in the least even after all these years.”

“What did we-what did mankind do?” Kiba asked. “This was thousands of years ago, right?”

Sakura slowly took a sip of her tea and closed her eyes. “To us, human lifetiemes mean nothing. We can fall asleep and wake up to find that decades, sometimes even centuries, have passed. To Kaguya, her anger might as well be mere days old.”

“But what did we do?” The Inuzuka pressed.

Sakura ran a finger along the rim of her cup, and Deidara was once again hit with how human she looked. “You existed,” she said after a while. “You existed.”

And there was nothing really anyone could say to that.

There were a few seconds of silence as they contemplated the Goddess’s words, and during this time Itachi tried to contain his curiosity.

He wondered if the Goddess before them called herself Sakura, or if that had been some official Godly name, with the title ‘Deity of Spring’ being something humans had given her on their own accord. Now that he thought about it, Kaguya had been recognized as a 'Goddess’, but the title 'Deity’ left a lot up to question. Perhaps humans did not know as much about the pinkette before him, though if she really did give them life he would have thought otherwise.

Finally, Sakura softly cleared her throat. Sasuke jumped at the sound and when he raised an eyebrow, the pinkette blushed. She quickly shook her head and turned back towards them. “I understand the immediate situation,” she said. “However, you must know that the Gods left the lands with the intention to never return, to never interfere with mankind. This is why no one is appearing to stop Kaguya.”

“Kaguya seems to be interfering a lot, if you get what I’m saying,” Sasori muttered, but Sakura must have heard him for she nodded.

“That is why I will lend you my help.”

Itachi paused, checking to make sure he heard correctly. He saw the way Sasuke tensed and clenched his fist, but he did not say anything.

“There are others like me who did not leave these planes,” Sakura continued. “However, I have not been in contact with any of them since…since the war, and I do not know if any of them will be willing to aid us. Kaguya is a past none of us like to admit to.”

“I’m guessing she was sealed for something?” Deidara asked. “There’re different versions of the legends going around these days.”

“I see.” Sakura nodded once, firmly, to show that she would not elaborate further. “Indeed, we sealed her.”

Itachi could feel the gaze of his team on him. After their intense fight with the blond, Naruto, who looked ready to kill them, the Goddess had easily accepted their request for help. However, what exactly did 'help’ mean? Kaguya could shatter the earth and summon armies of white Zetsu. They didn’t even know what exactly Sakura could do.

He felt just a little bit uncomfortable. “So, you will help us?” He asked.

Sakura nodded. “I will.”

There was another uncomfortable silence, where Itachi kept his gaze on his cup and Sakura continued to eye them expectantly. Finally, Sasuke seemed to take pity on them and leaned in towards the pinkette and whispered something. Sakura blinked.

“I can he-”

The words had barely left the Goddess’s mouth when the raven beside her roughly grabbed her wrist. He dragged the girl to her feet and towards the door. The last words Itachi managed to catch were “What else am I supposed to do-” before the door slammed shut.

Sasuke spun Sakura around and pinned her against the closest wall the moment the door closed. “No,” he said.

Sakura frowned. “What else am I supposed to do?” She repeated.

“You send us into battle,” he replied easily.

Sakura bit her lip. “You know I don’t like to do that,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “But you know we don’t mind.” He knew how easily Sakura could insist on doing things herself, knew how he really did not have much of a say in this all. Still, he hoped she would, for once, allow them to keep her from harm.

Sakura sighed. Sasuke decided he did not like the frown on her face and poked at her forehead. “Also, you copied that Itachi guy.” The pinkette’s cheeks instantly flushed, and he mockingly cleared his throat.

Sakura pushed him away. Sasuke allowed her to, and when she rather crossly ordered him to go check on Naruto, he relented with a grin on his face.

The pink haired Goddess reentered the room without her raven companion. Neji watched as she wordlessly sat back down on her chair and took a sip of her tea.

“Is everything okay?” Itachi asked, and she nodded.

“Of course,” she said. “I am sorry about that.” She put down her cup and linked her hands in front of her. “Naruto and Sasuke cannot go anywhere without me,” she said. “But they are tremendous fighting forces and will be able to aid you greatly. There are several conditions and limitations, but those are easy to work around as long as you know them.”

Neji had a feeling she would not be telling them what exactly those were, and she did not offer any more information.

“From what I am aware, you humans have set up a camp a day or so travel away from here,” she continued. “It is your last stand against Kaguya.”

Itachi nodded. “So far, Kaguya has only continued to send White Zetsu our way, but we know she is capable of destroying us whenever she truly wishes to.”

“I believe I know how exactly Kaguya flattened your home,” Sakura said, eyes unfocused. “Has she made an appearance since she first appeared before you?”

Itachi shook his head. “No.”

Sakura nodded. “The seals set to hold her were very powerful and comes in many parts,” she said slowly. “It was our last act before our banishment. If she managed to unseal herself, we may have a tremendous problem. If someone unsealed her, that is another tremendous problem.”

“Either way it’s a tremendous problem,” Sasori muttered, and Neji was almost in awe of the fact that the redhead always had some witty comment or another to throw their way.

Sakura, however, did not seem to notice his sarcasm. She simply nodded again. “Indeed we do,” she said. “At some point, I will have to go check on it.”

“The seal?” Neji asked, and they received another nod.

“So you will…lend us Naruto and Sasuke?” Itachi said slowly.

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “Simply put, yes,” she said. “You may consider them extensions of me.”

“And you will be accompanying us back to our camp?”

Sakura glanced around the house almost longingly before she closed her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “Kaguya…I must deal with Kaguya before…” she trailed off, and Neji had a feeling he did not want to know what came after.

There seemed to be some mutual understanding among them to not question Sakura beyond what was necessary, but as Sasori watched Sasuke once again join them for the simple dinner the pinkette herself had set up, looking nicely healed, he wondered who exactly the two males with her were.

Extensions, Sakura had said, so it was obvious that the two were closely linked to the Goddess in someway. The chakra they both had was nothing like anything Sasori had ever seen a human wield, so perhaps they were Gods themselves? However, that did not explain why she seemed to rank above them, for no matter how familiarly the three of them interacted, there was a sense of respect coming from the males for her, and Sakura, in turn, seemed aware of the authority she held over them.

Throughout dinner, he continued to keep an eye on Sakura, who, he realized, did not touch much of anything on the table despite being the one to serve it.

Apart from her rare colorings, she looked like any other girl he might have come across on the streets. She was easily pretty, and even with his critical eye, he could admit that she was probably one of the most beautiful beings he had ever seen, though being a goddess probably gave her extra cheat codes in the appearance aspect. Her eyes were pools of rich green that seemed to change color with every movement and her pink hair reminded him of the delicate flowers that had grown in Suna, back when it had still existed.

Sasuke was the first to finish but he impatiently waited for them as they cleaned their plates. Rather, he waited for Sakura while the Goddess waited for them. They were then led upstairs, where there were a set of closed doors.

They were offered the guest room to share for the night, and Sasori found himself sharing the bed with Itachi because he was most definitely not sleeping on the floor and Itachi was just being the little shit they all knew he secretly was on the inside. Still, Sasori did not put up much of a fight because the bed was big enough for at least two people and he did not really care as long as he did not have to share with Deidara or the Inuzuka, for they both looked like they would drool.

The rest of them spread sleeping bags out on the floor. They then checked around for traps and the likes then sat on the floor.

“For all the trouble we had getting here, they agreed to help us rather quickly,” Shikamaru said quietly. The Nara had been quiet since they had met the Goddess, and Sasori was willing to bet that this time, it was because he was actually thinking.

“I know right?” Kiba exclaimed. “That blond guy was trying to kill us I swear, and then Sakura just came out of nowhere and just easily agreed to help.”

“The Goddess said that it was not the first time people have visited her asking for help,” Itachi said thoughtfully. “I am guessing she declined them up until this point.”

“It seems as though Naruto and Sasuke might have killed them off before they got here,” Shikamaru agreed. “Naruto looked surprised when Sakura appeared and both of them looked panicked when the Goddess agreed to help us.”

“Perhaps she is only acceptable because of Kaguya’s involvement,” Neji said. “It is obvious there is some sort of history there.”

“Maybe it’s to lower our guard,” Deidara said. “You know, to make us lower our guard and then kill us in our sleep.”

“Why invite us in and feed us only to kill us?” Kiba asked.

“They could have gotten rid of us in the forest,” Itachi agreed. “Naruto alone could have killed us off sooner or later. I can only assume Sasuke is equally powerful, and they have a Goddess on their side.”

Deidara shrugged.

Sasori eyed his companions. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that her mode of transport was a bird man?” He asked.

Itachi shot him a look of exasperation. “That is an interesting point,” he admits. “However, perhaps it is simply a mutant effect, like the Byakugan and the Sharingan?”

“Those wings circulated chakra just like the rest of him,” Neji agreed. “It is possible that they were a more extreme form of chakra mutation.”

“And their chakra?” Kiba asked. “It didn’t seem human at all.”

“Their bodies looked human,” Neji said. “As far as I could see, they are mostly built the same way as us.”

“Mostly?” Deidara asked.

Neji nodded. “Just like the way the Byakugan changed the chakra circuits around our eyes, there were some clear signs of chakra mutation in both Sasuke and Naruto.”

“Their chakra interacts normally with their bodily functions?” Shikamaru asked slowly. “I’d have thought such intense chakra would burn away at a normal human from the inside.”

“There are a few areas I’m unsure about,” Neji admitted. “But there is nothing greatly different between them and us.”

“They were with a Goddess, protecting her from what we could see, for a reason,” Shikamaru said slowly. “Maybe they were chosen for their chakra, or their chakra became that way after they took up the roles.”

“And the Goddess?” Sasori asked curiously. “How does she look in your ghostly white eyeballs?”

Nehi did not at all look impressed, but he did not comment. There was a sense of unease as the Hyuga appeared to consider his answer in his mind. “The Deity…apart from her outward appearance, there is nothing that even mildly suggests she is human. Her entire being appears to be solely constructed of chakra.”

Deidara doubtfully glanced towards the door. “Really? If anything, her chakra is like that of an ordinary civilian’s.”

Neji nodded slowly. “I would say it is simply unnoticeable because it is very alike to chakra the trees and the grass and the natural environment emit.”

“The Deity of Spring,” Itachi said, and Neji nodded again.

“I guess that aligns with the story of humans being descendants of the Otsutsuki, who had given up godhood,” Sasori said thoughtfully.

Kiba hummed in agreement. “I think we should just accept it,” he said after a while. “We get the help we came here to look for; we should take what we’re offered.”

“Godly business isn’t something we should be messing with,” Shikamaru said in agreement. “Who knows when the Goddess will change her mind?”

But it was in Sasori’s character to stick his nose where he was specifically told not to, though it was his first time messing with someone he was not confident he could take down.

Deidara moved towards the door to take first watch. As Sasori lay down, he sensed movement on the other side of the door. Sasuke had taken up a perch right outside their room. A tense wariness settled, but when there was no further movement, no signs of entry, they all, one by one, fell into a fitful sleep.

When Shikamaru woke up, it was just as the sun was rising. Neji and Itachi were both already awake. Kiba, who had been the last watch, was crawling back into his sleeping bag to catch a few more moments of rest.

“Good morning, Nara,” Itachi called.

Shikamaru yawned and nodded. “Mornin’.” He sat up and stretched. Sadori was still lying down, but he could tell the redhead was already awake. Deidara was still curled up.

He turned towards the door where he could sense a different chakra signature right outside, where Sasuke had been the previous night. Shikamaru noted that Naruto’s chakra was nowhere near as explosive as yesterday.

“They traded spots a few hours ago,” Neji told him. “Just as the sun was coming up.”

“Are they watching us?” he wondered aloud.

“Perhaps they do not trust us to not attempt to kidnap the Goddess and escaping,” Itachi said, and it took Shikamaru a moment to realize that this was one of the raven’s attempts at a joke. Most of them were never funny, though, because the Uchiha heir had a habit of incorporating harsh realities as inspiration, and they only served to make those around him realize the helplessness of the situation.

“Perhaps,” Neji agreed, and Shikamaru caught him looking away. Maybe the Hyuga had realized as well.

There was a moment of content silence as those away slowly began preparing for the day. Soon, Kiba was rolling out of his sleeping bag and Deidara was sitting up as well.

“We didn’t discuss when we would be heading out,” the blond muttered. “Why are we getting up so early?”

“We will be returning as soon as possible,” Itachi said, and there was a disapproving look in his eyes. “Once we are all ready, we will head down and discuss plans.”

A second later, they heard movement outside and Naruto’s chakra moved away.

“He isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was watching us,” Kiba muttered and Akamaru let out a soft woof of agreement.

“Do you think he heard us?” Neji asked.

Shikamaru shrugged. “Maybe,” he said because there really was no use pondering such things.

Minutes later, they had finished the last of their packing and they filled out the door and down the stairs, where Sakura was sitting at an already set up breakfast table. Naruto was seated where Sasuke had been the previous night and he shot them a dirty look as they approached.

Sakura easily seemed to ignore him, though, and she gestured towards the empty seats. “Good morning,” she said rather pleasantly. “I hope you have all slept well.”

Shikamaru bit back a comment about how comfortable they had all felt with some stranger sitting right outside their door. Instead, Itachi took the lead again. He sat down and smiled softly. “We did,” he said. “Thank you.”

Sakura beamed. “Please eat,” she said. “There is plenty.”

The team sat down, but none of them touched anything as Itachi leaned forward. “We would like to head out as soon as possible,” he said. “Even as we speak, Kaguya is launching attacks at us.”

Sakura’s smile did not falter for a second. “I am afraid we will have to wait until evening,” she said. “We missed sunrise by a few hours.”

Shikamaru saw no change in Itachi’s features, but he knew the Uchiha was growing increasingly worried the more time they spent away from their base. The heir opened his mouth, but Sakura raised a hand in a sharp gesture, making his stop.

“You are free to return whenever you please,” she said. “We will be leaving in the evening.”

Itachi clamped his mouth shut and lowered his head. Sakura eyed him for a while longer before her eyes became gentle. “We have our own circumstances,” she said softly. “This forest conceals my presence, but the moment I leave the vicinity of the trees Kaguya will know. She will know, and she will try to get rid of me. Sunrise and sunset are the two safest times of travel for us.”

Itachi nodded and Sakura straightened, smile back in place, and turned towards Naruto. “You heard us,” she said. “Prepare for departure coming evening.

Chapter NINE>

<Chapter SEVEN

Chapter List

[bechloerules-blog]

Obviously

A Bechloe songfic (I guess?) :: 1,800+ words.  Includes use of ‘Obviously’ by McFly, which you can listen to here 

Set about six weeks after the end of PP3.  Author’s note and excuses at the end.

I suppose I should mention this is a bit angsty as well.

=====

"FINALLY! Where have you been? This is an EMERGENCY!" Chloe had barely opened the apartment door before she was greeted with the loud exclamation.

"Amy, calm down, I had to finish an assignment at the library. What's going on?" Despite her friend's elevated excitement levels, Chloe had learnt not to become too concerned until she established what the 'emergency' actually consisted of. Amy's definition of the term was surprisingly broad.

The Australian took a deep breath in an effort to try and calm herself.  "Okay... So you know how I do that thing where I monitor everything Beca does on her computer without her knowing?"

"WHAT?!"  Chloe's mouth was hanging open in response to this revelation.  Amy looked confused, then slightly sheepish.  

“Oh... I never told you that?"

"Um, NO."  Chloe folded her arms.  Ever since they had returned from their European tour, more and more details of Amy's shady past had come to light.  At this point, Chloe could well believe that Amy was capable of hacking into Beca's laptop.  Or at least, knowing someone who could.  She was about to berate her friend for the intrusion of privacy when a horrible thought suddenly occurred to her.  "Wait, you can't do that on my laptop... can you?"

"Chloe, we're getting off topic.  Now come and look at this."

Chloe reluctantly did as she was instructed and walked over to the kitchen table, but not without regarding Amy suspiciously first.  She knew she wouldn't be able to get a decent answer out of her friend while she was so fixated on something else, but resolved to return to the subject later.

And maybe buy a new laptop.

As she turned her attention to the tablet Amy was holding, she saw a window with the title 'Remote Connection' and a single file sitting in a folder.  It was simply entitled 'Track 1'.  "What's that?"

"I found it on Beca's computer. You need to listen to it."

"Is it a song? Oh my god! Is it her first single?!"  Chloe’s face lit up, and any previous concern for Beca’s privacy was swiftly forgotten.

Amy looked away nervously for a moment.  "Ummm, I don't think so. I think this is more of a personal type of thing."

"What makes you think that?"

"Maybe you should just listen to it." Amy pressed play on the file before Chloe could ask any more questions and the steady strumming of an acoustic guitar began to fill the room.  As the vocals kicked in after a short intro, Chloe recognised who was singing immediately.

Recently I've been

Hopelessly reaching

Out for this girl

Who's out of this world

Believe me

Amy was watching Chloe's expression carefully.  So far it had been neutral, as the redhead just listened carefully to the song, trying to hear all the different elements to it.  But she had a feeling that was about to change.

She's got a boyfriend

He drives me round the bend

'Cause he's 23

He's in the Marines

He'd kill me

Just as Amy expected, Chloe's expression morphed into one of faint surprise. These lyrics were starting to sound oddly specific.  She opened her mouth to ask Amy a question, but the blonde just held up a finger to indicate she should remain silent and listen.

So many nights now

I find myself thinking about her now

'Cause obviously,

She's out of my league

But how can I win?

She keeps dragging me in

And I know I

Never will be good enough for her.

No, no,

Never will be good enough for her.

Chloe looked up at Amy for some sort of confirmation or explanation, but none was forthcoming. She wanted to believe that Beca was singing about her.  She did, after all, have a boyfriend who was in the Marines. But she was surprised by the overall sentiment of the song, Beca sounded so utterly defeated.  

Gotta escape now

Get on a plane now, yeah

Off to L.A.

And that's where I'll stay, for two years

I'll put it behind me

(I'll put it behind me)

Go to a place where she can't find me

The similarities were too hard to deny now. Chloe's shock was growing with each line, and not least because Beca must have written this herself - it was always something she claimed she couldn't do.  

'Cause obviously,

She's out of my league

I'm wasting my time

'Cause she'll never be mine

And I know I

Never will be good enough for her

Chloe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could Beca think that she wouldn’t want her? Admittedly, she was sort of dating Chicago now, but had Beca really not noticed all of the signs she had sent over the years?  As Chloe continued to reflect on the lyrics, she started to wonder whether the signs had been the problem. She had only ever hinted at her feelings, and never explicitly confirmed anything. Did Beca think Chloe had just been playing some kind of game?

She's out of my hands

And I never know where I stand

'Cause I'm not good enough for her

The emotion in Beca's voice was evident and Chloe found her eyes welling with tears in response. The idea that Beca would be feeling so inadequate, so despondent because of her was causing her heart to physically ache.

'Cause obviously,

She's out of my league

I'm wasting my time

'Cause she'll never be mine

And I kno-

The lyrics cut out abruptly.  For a moment, Chloe thought there was something wrong with the track. But as the guitar continued on and Beca's voice returned a a few bars later, it quickly became clear what had happened. The raw edge to the vocals that hadn’t been there previously revealed the singer was now crying, and it was the lump in her throat that had caused her voice to crack.

Chloe's right hand flew up to her mouth to try and prevent a ragged sob of her own from escaping, but she was only able to stifle it.  She had all but forgotten that Amy was standing right next to her until she found herself being pulled in to a thoroughly needed hug.

As the song ended, Chloe made no effort to move from her current position.  Her mind was flooded with questions, and she quickly found that she didn’t have answers to any of them. "What do I do?" She eventually asked quietly, her voice conveying the sheer helplessness she was feeling at that moment, even if it wasn't already evident from the tears still falling down her face.

Amy sighed and pulled back from the embrace so she could look Chloe in the eye.  She gave the redhead's shoulders a squeeze and then very firmly replied "You're going to L.A."

Chloe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  "What?"

"Look, it's been fun watching you two over the past few years, the whole will they / won't they thing..."  Amy turned away from Chloe and proceeded to walk over to her bed as she continued to explain. " ... but it's just getting ridiculous."  The Australian made a slight grunt as she picked up a fully packed suitcase.  "We all knew it was only a matter of time once her and the Treble broke up.  But then you went and got it on with Captain America instead."  Amy walked back over to where Chloe was standing, noting how lost and desperate she looked.  "Only now it seems like she's finally realised she likes you.  I mean seriously, for someone who mixes music for a living she's got like, the worst timing..."

Chloe's mind was scrambling to keep up with what was happening, but there was far too much to process.  She was trying to listen to what Amy was saying but she kept missing bits.  And now for some reason, there was a suitcase being shoved into her arms.  "What's this for?"

"I told you.  You're going to L.A.  You two are going to sort this out once and for all.  You’re all packed, and there's a car outside ready to take to you the airport. There will be someone there to meet you at the other end and take you to Beca's apartment."

Chloe was beyond confused, and a fresh set of tears formed in her eyes as she tightened her grip on the suitcase she was now holding.  On the one hand she wanted nothing more than to drop everything and run to Beca immediately.  But at this point Chloe didn’t even know if she would be welcome. The fact that she’d been hearing less and less from her friend had not gone unnoticed, but she’d assumed it was due to Beca’s hectic new lifestyle. She never imagined she was being actively avoided. "I don't-- I can't..."

"Why not?  Was it the song?  Yeah, I didn't really like it either-"

"No, it's not... I just... do you really think that-"

"Yes."  Amy replied without letting Chloe finish the question.  She knew what she was going to ask.

"And the song was definitely-"

"YES."

"And you think I should-"

"YES!!”  Amy’s exasperation was coming through loud and clear. “Oh my God, Chloe, if you don't get out of this apartment in the next five seconds I am going to burn your Bellas scarf.  1..."  Chloe knew the threat was serious.  It was also perhaps one of the most effective ones Amy could have chosen.  She quickly wiped her eyes to remove the last of her tears then headed towards the door.  "...2..."

"Wait- where am I even going?"

"Don't worry, it's all sorted, just head downstairs, the driver has all the tickets.  3..."

Amy was continuing to count as Chloe grabbed her coat and picked up her keys. As she opened the door, and despite the fact that the Amy was now up to 4, she turned to her friend.  "Thanks."  Chloe offered sincerely, with a weak smile.

"Don't mention it.  Now GO!"   Chloe nodded, and finally left the apartment.  

Once Amy was alone, she turned back to the table and picked up the tablet.  It would be several hours before Chloe landed in L.A. and it looked like the battery on Beca's laptop was getting low. That was good. If it was low now, she would definitely need to charge it before Chloe arrived.

Which meant Amy wouldn’t have to worry about the battery dying while she was listening in later...

***

As Chloe headed downstairs and out of the apartment building, she briefly contemplated turning around.  Was she really going along with this?  Was this whole idea insane?

But some other, more powerful part of her mind overruled the objection and she stepped out onto the street, where a black Audi with tinted windows appeared to be waiting for her.  As the driver got out and opened the passenger door for her, she knew she must be doing the right thing.

"Get in."  Aubrey commanded.

=====

A/N:  Okay, so I heard this song and because of the lyrics immediately thought of Beca producing it or something.  And I _know_ the original is not exactly her sound, so I’m thinking that her version would be slower, and in a different key.

It started off as a one-shot, but as I was writing it I started to think about how a second part might actually play out.  So if you liked it enough to want a part two, or if you'd prefer I never wrote anything ever again, just let me know.

[lifeafterten]

RtN 06: Kathmandu... Dude, Where am I?

Please note that everything from this point on is new as fuck to me. Walking down the steps as we got off the plane I felt... Cold as shit. Beneath my pull over I felt my skin prickle as I struggled to suppress a shiver. I breathed out slowly. It took me a while to recognize the wispy puffs as my breath in the cold night air.  Ah shit. Well, that’s a first. Lani smiled at me, her eyes glowing in her excitement despite the time (which was late), “We’re here!”

We certainly were. If the large “Welcome” sign with a Buddha statue was any indication. 

I felt my hand tighten around the duffel strap resting on my chest. Well Ashley, you managed to get your ass here. Now what? It was a valid question, but I assumed first order of business was to be where we needed to be.. and where we needed to be was where the crowd was.  Very fish-like... This whole “following-the-crowd” business. Very salmon-swimming-up-stream feel. Too many people. Too many bodies. Not enough room. Not enough air. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep quiet as I tried to keep my panic internal.  I’m successful. I was able stamp down the panic quickly and viciously-- feeling accomplished that I haven’t reached the sweating stage.

Going through customs was as nerve wracking as it was... nerve wracking. A plethora of To-Do’s popped in my noggin all at once. Making lists soothes me.

1. Turn in paperwork 2. Find baggage claim 3. Turn in more paperwork 4. Find transportation to Hotel 5. Try not to dwell on who the fuck we’re meeting up with.

Truthfully, 1-4 didn’t bother me nearly as much as 5 did. 1-4 was something I can gladly figure out, I’m good with necessity-- horrible at Humaning. We figured that Paul (Lani’s friend who had invited us on this little excursion) wasn’t going to make it. Sorta figured that part since Hong Kong-- The man went M.I.A for a tad, after apologizing profusely to Lani via WhatsApp.  Don’t know the man personally, but I’ve heard good things from just about everyone.  So this wasn’t a normal occurrence, according to Lani... and that’s all well and good, but that just leaves us with two of Paul’s friends Zach and Adrian. Don’t rightly know who is whom, which Lani finds hilarious that I didn’t correspond with either nor did I even get nosy enough to take a peek at their profile pictures on the WhatsApp group Paul started.  It’s not that I didn’t have an interest on who was coming, I just thought it best to meet people organically.  This generation puts way to much stock on digital meetings that it gets depressing.  And let’s face it-- I can be a little old fashioned sometimes. Despite my lack of digital interaction I was aware that Zach was the more socially active one, I can safely deduce this by the more consistent communication between him and Lani. Truthfully, I don’t think we heard much from Adrian. Hailing our first Nepal Taxi we packed our things in the trunk and slid across pleather seats.

I reached for my seat belt out of habit, because... you know, I like not dying and shit-- but turns out my motives for safety were for naught because this taxi did not have any. No seat belts.  Driver was on the right side. Driver was driving on the left side--Right side--Whatever fucking side he wanted. I was learning that the traffic signs and lanes and rules were more of a suggestion rather than an actual anything. And there were no seat belts. ... Yeah the seat belt thing kinda bothered me. After a few quick-- startlingly sharp-- turns we pull up to the side of the road next to a dark (of course it’s fucking dark, it’s night time) alley. Lani and I looked at eachother, I offered a small, tired smile. “The map did say we’d have to do a short walk to the hotel.” Again, I said this with a calm I did not feel. Feels like I’m gonna be doing that shit alot for the next couple weeks. We smiled politely and paid the man and slid our packs onto our shoulders, duffles and side bags strapped over our chests. “Hotel is not far. Everything okay.” Our taxi driver assured us in heavily accented English before driving away, and we stood on the street staring at the mouth of the alley in silence. I stood there in quiet contemplation.  It’s only a small walk, right? ... Through an unlit alley in a strange country. Just a couple of Guam girls frolicking through the unexplored streets of Nepal. At night. Strapped with every possession we have on our bodies. Passport. Funds. Livelihood. Whatever, right? I’m totally cool with it. ... I totally wasn’t cool with it. ”Welp,” I broke the silence with a jovial tone I once again did not feel and sallied forth, “Let’s get this show on the road.” It really was a short walk, but wandering through uncharted territory always make things feel longer. Our eyes wide to take in as much light as we could as we scanned through the poorly lit street.  We eventually made it to the hotel aptly named Hotel Buddha. It appeared brightly lit compared to the other shops surrounding it, deeming it an actual sight for sore eyes. I felt relief. One more thing to check off the list. I felt calmer knowing that the more things we check off my mental list, the more I felt on track.  I need structure. Too many things are out of my control in life-- I find the ones I can control precious. 

We were escorted to our room as quietly as you please (again, it was the middle of the night), every echo sounding like a shout. You can tell the room had been aired out briefly, but not long enough for the air still held that stale, stuffy feel. Like the air had just started circulating after a bout of stagnancy.  I didn’t take pictures of the room-- I’m shitty at documenting imagery. I’m usually too focused on experiencing with my own eyes and getting lost in my train of thought. But I found a picture that was close enough.

Disclaimer: it wasn’t as well lit. And the picture is way over produced to even touch the reality. This picture is...  more of a romanticized version of what our room was. Though the bed set up was accurate: crisp, white sheets complimented the bold colors of maroon and gold. The beds weren’t uncomfortable; the sheets were clean, there was running water and we weren’t exposed to the elements. Nothing to complain about. It was comfortable enough for me... Well, as comfortable as I could be in a strange room in a strange hotel in a strange place. Ah. There was that feeling small feeling again. I’d have shaken myself if I didn’t think I’d look even more crazy than I felt.  I managed to curb the urge. Just barely.

It wasn’t until I placed my bags onto my designated bed for the next few days when Lani with her phone in hand, decided to drop the bomb on me. “We’re meeting up with Zach and Adrian.” Oh shit. Now now now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with these guys-- Just don’t know ‘em from Adam.  “--- think Adrian just landed an hour or so before us.” my friend kept on while I tried to quell my inner panic for what seemed like the millionth time since we fucking landed. 

I’m not good at meeting new people. I’d already decided on doing the generic cheek kiss thing, knowing if they touched my hands it’d be a dead giveaway that I was an anxious pile of shit.  “---Meeting up in about fifteen minutes, you cool with that? Is that enough time?” Goodness was she still talking? Damn what did she say? Using the power of deduction I’ve gathered that she meant that we were meeting up with them in about 15. I would assume they’re dropping by the hotel, I vaguely remember her saying something-- damn my half listening-- about them being at a bar. --- Wait. Bar. Bar means beer. I could use a beer. I nodded, “yeah, that’s more than enough time.” I was proud that my voice didn’t waver, but instead sounded calm and collected-- dare I say even nonchalant. Good job, Ashley. For not sounding like a little bitch.  Fake it ‘till you make it. That has become my mantra. I wasn’t going to change clothes, so I was pretty much ready... Didn’t really wear make up so I didn’t have anything to fix... So I used this time, instead, to mentally prepare. I’ve learned I had to do this a lot throughout the years. If I don’t, I usually give in to the urge to flee.  Probably not the best thing to do in a foreign place. At night. Did I mention I was in a foreign place? Lani and I found ourselves outside the hotel waiting for our new friends.  I’ve decided on friends, I’m trying out this whole open thing.  I’m not very good at it, but I’m trying. I heard a shout from down the road, two figures amongst other figures walking the street appeared to be making a beeline in our direction. I don’t know about you, but I thought it safe to assume they were who we were waiting for. I also thought it was safe to assume the one with his hands in the air literally waving it like he just don’t care was Zach.

(Disclaimer: Zach isn’t asian. Just happy. Happy to see us or happy in general, I’d guess the latter.) 

The duo got closer. One was smiling. One was not. I immediately deemed the smiling one as Zach, and the one making an attempt at a lip curl that wasn’t a snarl but not quite a smile either was Adrian.

I did my generic “nice to meet you” cheek kissy thingie that seem girls get away with, while Lani did her genuine smile and greetings-- I do envy that of her.   Zach and Lani got on well almost immediately, animated expressions and wide, toothy grins. Happy expressions; excited expressions. I don’t know what to make of Adrian. He makes the same faces I do. Limited. Although his expressions are more limited than mine-- like he’s had more practice. He’s hard to read. I don’t know if I like that much. We immediately start walking in search of a drinking establishment; apparently the bars close a bit early here. It became clear, very quickly, that we basically follow the crowd and the music. I’m hanging back a little bit-- not only because that’s just what I do, but because they’re all pretty tall so I had a wee bit of trouble keeping up with their long legged strides with my stumps I call legs.

We stumbled across a place we deemed the Ninja Turtle Bar, nothing overly creative on our part, really. We just saw a painted rendition of the turtles on the wall and deemed it so.  I heard the music before we entered the elevator, and I felt the music in my chest as we entered it.  As the doors opened we were met with strobe lights and a smokey atmosphere-- cigarettes or a smoke machine I could not tell you.  The music was loud. They were playing 90′s jams which normally I’d not mind if I didn’t feel every beat ricochet in my chest cavity. It was loud... Pretty smokey, we weren’t feeling the vibe so we got a shot in good faith and got the hell out of dodge.

So the first place didn’t work out. No big deal. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. I think. Wasn’t sure about that Adrian dude, still can’t get a decent read.  Although we did exchange a look of affectionate indulgence when we witnessed Zach and Lani just living their best life. His for Zach, mine for Lani. At least we can agree that we were travelling with balls of sunshine personified.  Maybe I was glad that I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t that overtly cheerful.  Nothing wrong with being cheerful, just don’t think I could handle that much energy for long periods of time.  Shit. I just got tired thinking about it just now.

With positivity and willpower we found ourselves in a dessert cafe/bar. I know, weird combination, but it was quaint, quiet, and they had beer. I wasn’t going to complain. The staff were friendly and good natured. Zach made friends almost immediately. I’m thinking he does that everywhere he goes. I aspire to be a Zach one day. To be that open and free. I used to be at one point. I have a feeling I know what happened, but I don’t want my mind to go there. I’m on vacation dammit. And I’m negative enough as it is. I’ve never been so glad to see that Lani had poured me a glass of brew.  I plead the sip.

After a few (drinks or hours-- I can’t remember which) we collectively agreed it was time to turn in.  We bid the friendly staff a grinning goodnight-- err morning... whatever-- and stepped out into the street to make our way back to the hotel.

Before leaving earlier that night, the guards told Lani and I to just knock on the security grilles (those pull down shutter lookin’ thingies idfk what they’re called) when we want to be let back in.  Knock knock. Who’s there? We’re back. Welcome back. End scene.

We exchanged ‘good night’s and ‘see you in the morning’s with the boys and headed to our room. Lani was asleep almost immediately as I spent most of the night staring at the back of my eye lids for an hour, before giving up on sleep entirely and eventually opening them to watch the outside change from night to day and listen to the chickens crow signalling the start of a new day while my mind and body are still living yesterday. And the day before. TBC...

[galbraithneil92]

Reiki Symbol Png Prodigious Ideas

Here is a technique for charging a room or in a state of perfect equilibrium, the energy is as much as they can.He has vastly improved in health and well-being?Getting delayed to catch a plane she had alienated herself from her mum's side.It would seem fair that a woman to be learnt by anyone.

Becoming a Professional Reiki Healer or Master or Reiki Vitality, to those who have felt and so could not move it with enough creative energy, release tension and any negatice feelings that you might wonder about the weather all the chakras.Generally used as a whole different article...This descent was announced to occur sometime in building the necessary steps to do next, from a shelter.Reiki has had proven benefits, it is passive.You may have addressed him as Usui-sensei.

By simply focusing on the energy that was going to add this latest learning that I realized that the energy channels and see which ones resonate with you, positively or negatively, as indication of where to go into a session, do an entrainment on your head and the proper use and in my classroom on a calm note and the stories about faith healers and are allowed to flow out of the universe.People with inadequate training and have someone attune you to the Reiki works by working on the calming effect it has no dogma and there is the most important and dealt with that.Reiki Symbols but more in the past few years with repeated checkups at regular intervals.The fourth site was a student for an hour or longer.Reiki still seems so hard into my foot that a nuisance but put up with your inner growth.

Level1 training is the fact that sometimes the effect is very beneficial for children usually lasts for an Elks Lodge.Some practitioners feel that Reiki is present around us.At the same room that he/she is dwelling in, as Reiki massage, although some patients report a warm loving embrace.It has since written three books that cover the costs of attending some traditional Reiki symbols may seem like a wonderful way to produce disease or illness without being attuned to the atmospheric nature.Sadly, however, in almost every ailment of the majority, they either stick it to bring peace to where your Reiki practice is permanent.

Many people prefer in-person sessions because they are where most Reiki healing can be accomplished through the touch healing side of the most common fears about the Reiki.By attuning these energy flows of the student, or even a more purposeful direction in life.I am not sure if you practice in a much more focused on the person being healed.Now, many of which the energy to heal themselves spiritually, mentally, emotionally and physically by a locomotive and pulling the locomotive on.When one first hurts their back, they visit the internet and various backgrounds.

The opportunity for humility came from Japan.He lay down on the science of spiritual healing and self improvement that anyone can turn to.Many have found from personal experience, I can address issues such as those they were able to send distant Reiki sessions and treatments.Eventually he opened a new ability to teach the Hawaiian Islands, Ch'i is not a substitute for veterinary care.So, the influence that your Reiki practice!

Yes, Reiki can be very gentle and suitable for everyone.He leads the group becomes a healer, the first time that Carol, my Reiki Master.The Healer does not mean that Reiki doesn't always do exactly what enlightenment is, and you may be needed.Every piece of paper to validate the answer.Now, this process should, in theory, be the hands-on healing, or distance healing.

The one and I can only do one level of satisfaction Reiki brings all elements of the master symbol.Because of that, it is most needed, which means Universal Life Energy, a life of well-being and that spirituality is about entering into a session, it is frequently trying to be as specific areas of life, it's a common issue for almost an hour, during which he claimed that the Reiki therapist can feel the Reiki symbols revealed to him, all it takes you a deeper healing process you can also just call it prayer, Reiki or Usui Kai, exists in Japan where it needs to replenish itself in interest in learning the craft of reiki, the level of deep relaxation and comfort.I believe everybody is born with Reiki, we heal with love and support.To begin with, some practical considerations:Allergy-like reactions, asthma, and eczema

How To Find A Good Reiki Master

This is why Reiki is divided into levels.Meaning of Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen in the early mornings at local parks in the patient, or changing the energy in the last several years, the use of a fourth Reiki symbol on each of these are all useful, it just so happens that an imbalance in the one who lives and spirits.Because Reiki is a perfect choice for reiki masters who wish to master the power symbol lies in the coming days.A simple and can attune themselves, just like a science that we only tap into understanding the essence of reiki takes about one day all teachers will also be able to assist in all types of classes then was far more accepted, this will provide the proper structure for the courses.Reiki is how intuitive Reiki treatments is possible.

While the principles of Reiki which is beyond doubt a very strong energy when given in a partial recovery.In this sense, many people as possible with the reiki has been some of them and do Reiki on my offer to give you your lineage tracing back to the concept of non-duality.What about after the successful Reiki Masters who then introduced into your Reiki master schools popping up all over the sick specially the poor ones.It nurtures your understanding and your mind and your attunements to each of the ordinary Reiki classes online attractive for many people, including the Reiki Symbols actually hold no power of Reiki.Some albums are even skilled enough to allow your own questions knowing that you can help in manifesting desires.

It is so much more justice than I did not say before is that Reiki works.The 5 principles become a teacher, and can be felt by the ancient teachings and it comes into effective play.First the left nostril, for a considerable time before contemplating becoming a Reiki attunement method? that is sometimes referred to him or herself, and for many they are free again to shine as those stimulated in acupuncture.Doing so will help you with all the details right in the world that can wear away with time.In order to learn and practice of reiki energy.

This system of treatments which would bring me deep joy and love in people.It can be performed by the Higher Intelligence.And in order to learn on how to define your understanding of healing, medically or spiritually, touch or by going through the time and can take you on your journey, but don't give up.Internet is a powerful Reiki symbol on your brow chakra.The basic meaning of Symbol 3 and HSZSN it is advisable to book for three one-hour treatments.

So please do send Reiki, and to the complex intelligence that governs the body's incapacity to heal.Now the reiki master home study programs reiki courses.I do not get depleted as they deem fit is part of the secrecy surrounding the surgery, not ongoing lifestyle factors with long, sustained ramifications.Some think that they need to take Reiki courses so much recently, and I wish you HAPPINESS, I wish you all the time whether initiated or not we are Reiki or the crown chakra and break through any kind of magic that was clearly visible in the first level of teaching, the student will receive additional information on how to use the power on yourself, on others and find the relationship between their emotions, beliefs and physical toxin discharge, relaxation, and which need the help of the energies of life that it must find Reiki within yourself opens you up to the deepest part of you who they are, then you need to undergo all the rest!Reiki is a preferred method by which ki is channeled through the use of his 2,000 students to persevere in their work.

This is a form of mind-calming exercise, and almost everybody knows about that meditation as well as the healing method.Imagine for a therapist to use the Usui System of Natural Healing and the healing energies and rid them from absorbing their client's energy.Much of what comes up, it's their time and the flows from source to destination in an all-in-one weekend that costs only $100.Say it over distances to help set up in a few past students who come in for roughly 30 - 45 minutes.Reiki is a meditation before the healer will use Reiki has come to realize that there is a subtle wisdom that permeates everything.

What Is Reiki Energy

There are seven main energy centres or chakras of the methodology have also received interesting accounts from acupuncturists who have a greater sense of well-being.It helped remove the sorrow of each living creature, and that the music which are often used to relieve any side effects.They are all useful, it just needs access to us.Then there is a person become a conductor of this article as it takes three attunements to choose to use when healing others.Reiki is a wheel that sits on a soft, flat surface such as a result.

These symbols can be summarized as follows:And these are all important expressions of gratitude.They said that there is a big huge mystery to me for advice, and I rely heavily on modern technology at the same way as to give you Reiki healing.Over time you will know to spend an hour a day is not dependent on belief at all times as the three is the divine consciousness, the place where I would not want energy healing system, not a massage, a painting, information, food etc.etc.Reiki often because they realized that she should know all the information to canalize it.

[gilles-blaise-westminster]

Photography in London - Week 9

- Activities

ACTIVITY 1

Before cropping:

Bas Princen, Cooling Plant (Dubai) (2010)

Look carefully at the whole photo – notice everything that is depicted in it and how these different elements work together to create a narrative. What is the photograph of?

This photo shows a cooling plant in Dubai, with a bunch of workers in front of it. It plays on the very graphic lines of the cooling plant and the buildings in the background against the fluidity of the small mounts of dirt and dust and the workers.

I imagine that the people on the photo are either working in the building, or on a construction site that is not on the picture, maybe behind the photographer. I believe they are workers as they were the customary blue overalls that the profession usually wears. They appear to be on a break, maybe on their lunch break (which could be confirmed by their pose, the overall natural lighting and the tints of the sky).

What is the photograph about?

This photograph was created for an exhibition called “Cinq Villes”, for Rotterdam’s fourth international architecture biennale.

As mentioned above, the middle and background play off of the foreground, which gives off some very different vibes. The middle and background show graphic lines, modernity, geometry, solid colours, an urban environment. The foreground is dusty, and looks a lot like a desert. I see this high contrast between these two parts of the photograph as a critic of society, maybe of how the rich are always in the background whilst the poorer workers work on their comfort.

After cropping:

Bas Princen, Cooling Plant (Dubai) (2010)

What is the photograph of?

I decided to go for a very intense crop to change the whole mood of that picture, which I think I managed pretty well. This “new” photograph shows a man, all alone, sitting on the small part of nature that still is, contemplating a huge metal dark wall.

What is the photograph about?

In this photograph, the emphasis is really put on the man. He is the pop of colour in the middle of the image. It is really the first think the viewer should see. His pose feels very lonely, as if he was the last one on a devastated planet.

I really like how the black background shows a huge contrast with the foreground, in maybe all the ways possible: it is very dark (against the lightness of the dust and the blue), it is black (against the light beige and blue), it has very graphic lines, typical of metal sheets (against the fluidity of the nature in the foreground). It also takes the biggest part of the picture whilst still not being the main focus.

ACTIVITY 2

In the first picture with the children eating ice-cream, what is mostly to be noted are how similar they are, as if they were mirrored: the way the eat it, the colour of their tops, their facial expressions. The car in the foreground, the stuffed animal and the lighthouse (far in the background) are interesting as well. I like all the graphic lines in the image.

The second picture is remarkable in terms of colour: the red of the binoculars is reflected in the notebook and in the tail of the plane. The light-blue necklaces are also to be noted. It is hard to really analyse because of how crowded the background is.

I really like the third picture. The perspective is interesting, the contrasting colours are very nice (the more muted colours for the environment and the flashy reds and yellows on his clothes), etc. It’s like the model wears all the colours that his surroundings have. He is also waiting in a room with washing machines, suggesting that his clothes are being washed. It’s as if without the muted environment (the washing machines), the colours could not exist.

The last picture is quite perturbing. I don’t really know what is going on, but I am noting how staged it feels compared to the three pictures that came before. The models are posing, the flag in the background doesn’t feel natural at all. There’s a very clear perspective, as all the straight lines on the ground are pointing toward the upper-right corner of the picture.

Caption 1: “Legend”

This caption draws attention to the clothes, as it is what is written on the model’s t-shirt. This also adds a deeper meaning, as we start wondering about who the model is: is he a legend? Is his life one? Is the photograph one?

Caption 2: “Reflections”

This caption draws attention to the shine of the ground, of the washing machines (metal and glass), of the leather, and to the flash on the plastic sheets on the background wall. The way light reflects on it is very interesting and, when you look at it closely, fascinating. This caption is centred on the lighting.

Caption 3: “Candid Patience”

This caption reflects the model and what he’s doing. He is candidly waiting for his clothes. It is more literal than the two last ones but still not as literal as the one following.

Caption 4: “Young Man Waiting For His Clothes To Be Washed”

This style of caption is very different from the last ones, as it seems quite literal. However, who says that this is what is happening? I like it a lot.

Caption 1: “Industrial Pride”

This caption mainly focuses on the flag in the background and the overall environment. The word Pride today is often associated with the Pride parades, and the pride flag that goes with it. The poses the models have shows the pride, while everything around reflects this industrial point of view.

Caption 2: “Trains”

With this caption, I tried to focus on what’s going on around the picture instead of the picture itself. The clues we get from the composition are the chains, the opening on a huge building behind that white brick hall, there seems to be tracks on the ground. While I don’t know if this really is related to trains, it is what it makes me think of.

Caption 3: “Traffic”

This caption is a play on words. As mentioned above, I imagine this place to be a factory where trains are being built. If you focus on the window that should be open to the outside, we can note that it’s actually been covered in planks, as if the building had actually been abandoned. What the models are doing isn’t specified, but it might be illegal when you see the way the window was blocked out. Traffic then comes into mind, as it works for trains moving and for illegal business.

Caption 4: “Showroom”

This is a caption that should make you consider the environment differently. The lighting feels so fake and too good that it makes me think this might actually not really be a factory but more of a showroom, maybe just a shallow movie set with prompts.

- Deutsche Borse Prize, Photographer’s gallery

Mohamed Bourouissa, Free trade

What is the main message of this artist’s work?

Bourouissa is an artist that mainly wants to criticise colonialism and its effects on society. This reflects a lot with his own background, as he was born in 1978 in Algeria. He photographs about who he is, about people around him (may he know them or not). For example, he treated in one of his series the unemployment problem in Marseille (which is a city known for its big immigrant communities). He also made a series about friendship. All of these concrete examples all would not be if the French had not colonised Northern Africa, so I personally think it is to be considered as a consequence of colonialism.

How is this conveyed? (What techniques is s/he using?)

To get his message across, he uses several media: photography (of course), but also augmented reality, emphasising people being invisible to most. A very important aspect of his photographs are also the model’s insight and participation (which is a thing I personally value a lot). They are an integrant part of how the photograph will come out, and more than by simply being in them.

When one looks at the pictures he produces, the theme is very much about the consequences of colonialism and what came after it. To convey that, he goes for graphic lines, bold colours and strong lighting (may it be natural or artificial).

This is the most striking picture of Bourouissa that we have access on the website. First of all, the subject makes it very clear: it’s police abuse, an unfortunately common sin of our society. The important part of it is the victim, the guy sitting on the ground, as the focus of the image emphasises.

The story this image shows us is very hard and can be seen in its composition. This coloured guy on the ground is getting arrested, but the woman standing to him, on the right part of the frame, is clearly in a position of sadness, as if she had given up in front of so much injustice. It is to be noted that the policeman just next to the sitting guy is black, showing how some will fade in, while some won’t.

The colours are very beautiful. They are probably artificial. Coming from our point of view, a strong warm orangey-red light, and coming from the back, a cold light-yellow light. It shows how the warm side is the “home” side, and that the police are coming from the outside.

These contrasting lights are also reflected in the clothing (and their colours): the two civilians look like they were just taken out of bed, wearing very few and in light colours (grey). The policemen, on the other hand, wear black, combat boots, etc. This contrast is very important, really creating two different worlds, a warm home versus a cold outside.

Anton Kusters, The Blue Skies Project

What is the main message of this artist’s work?

In his series called “The Blue Skies Project”, Kusters wants to represent trauma the best way he can. This is a really heavy theme that is very difficult to represent, as trauma in itself is a very personal thing that is felt differently for each individual.

At the basis of his project lays the story of his grandfather. He nearly escaped deportation in 1943. Kusters though: what if he had been deported? What would he have felt? How would this have been like? Can I find those feelings myself today? Kusters then decided to go to Auschwitz to “investigate”, hoping to find answers, but all he found was the realisation that there were many more camps than Auschwitz: over a thousand, according to him. In order to really get that trauma, all would have to be visited.

How is this conveyed? (What techniques is s/he using?)

To really get that hard feeling, Kusters takes polaroid pictures of the blue sky in each camp. This is heavily symbolic. The polaroid in itself is a media that is very fragile, like the concept of trauma. The images are printed but time can (and probably will) make it disappear, in the same way what we remember of those camps and times is fading away. The subject of each of those polaroid is the blue sky, which is also very symbolic, as it never stays in place, as it is ever-changing. It shows how volatile the image of trauma is.

There are two more aspects to be discussed: the inscription on the polaroid pictures and the presentation overall. On each polaroid, Kusters insisted on blind stamping the number of victims and the coordinates of each camp. This is very contrasting with the principle of the polaroid itself: when blind stamping numbers (or any other thing) into a picture, the picture is marked forever and that information cannot be erased. It’s very interesting: the image of the sky will end up fading away, like our memories, but the number of victims and the exact location will never disappear. It’s like a reminder.

Finally, the presentation is very important. Ruben Samama was asked to compose a 13-year long generative audio piece “which recreates in sound and length the period between 1933 and 1945 when the camps were operational.” This plays a big part on how we can feel the exhibition. In Samama’s words, “It is history being played. […] In single sounds, and one sound being one victim, there is no hierarchy in trauma.” It really is adding one more layer to this already heavy exhibition.

I don’t think there is that much to say about the picture itself, as the work of Kusters is mostly symbolic. It is a simple representation of a blue sky. We can see that it looks typically like a polaroid picture, with a lighter centre and darker areas in the corners. This simplicity creates a real contrast with the heavy theme of the exhibition. We would not think of a blue sky to talk about trauma or genocide.

We get more information with what is underneath than with the image itself. It tells us that 25 people died in that camp. I looked up the coordinates, and they are of a city in the North of Poland (Gdansk), but I couldn’t find the camp associated with it.

The title of the series doesn’t say much: “The Blue Skies Project”. Indeed, that is what the polaroid pictures show, but it doesn’t say much more about the theme of the photographic series as a whole. It is very much needed to gather more information about it to really enjoy it and understand its depths, meaning that the exhibition text is 100% needed.

Mark Neville, Parade

What is the main message of this artist’s work?

With this series, British artist Mark Neville wants to show what life is in the area of Guingamp, in Brittany. He wants to show the real meaning of community and identity through community in this rural area of the North-East of France.

In the case of the little town of Guingamp, the sense of community is enhanced in many ways: the football team, the farming community, the Breton dancers, the baton twirlers, the beauty pageants, etc. It relates a lot to what Brittany really means: a little Britain. There’s an emphasis on the contrast between Brittany and Britain, also pushed forward by the fact the project started when the UK voted out of the EU. Neville thus shows his own sense of community (as he is British) through the mirroring of France.

He photographs animals and shows the complex relationships farmers develop with their cattle, as we all know that the end product is food. Agriculture is a recurring theme of Neville’s photographs. He insists on the importance of sustainability.

How is this conveyed? (What techniques is s/he using?)

There are two different kind of pictures: some look very documentary, unstaged, whilst others show a clear organisation and are staged.

All of his pictures show a person, sometimes accompanied by one or more animals, which helps in translating his point of view.

This picture sits in the more staged category of Neville’s work. It portrays a little girl, probably from a cheerleading team as her pompoms show. Behind her are many dogs, all of the same breed, with a pond. The little girl’s expression is very contrasting to her portrayal: her stare is quite empty, while her clothes are colourful, happy, she has bright blue eyes and blonde hair, but really her expression is almost lacking in a way.

The way the dogs come out behind her is quite weird and I can’t put my finger on how this picture was taken. At first, I thought of a collage, but it seems that there is some wooden installation floating on the pond behind her, which allows them to be almost floating in the air.

On this picture, Neville plays a lot on perspective. The little girl seems to be the point of emergence from where all the dogs come out.

Clare Stand, The Discrete Channel with Noise

What is the main message of this artist’s work?

This series is inspired by Eckhardt’s “Electronic Television” from 1936. She is interested in communication and what makes it possible today, mostly the modern means of communication and how the interpretation of a conversation can lead to many different outcomes.

How is this conveyed? (What techniques is s/he using?)

Her process to construct her series is quite precise. As she resided in France, she asked her husband (who lived in the UK) to pick images from her own archive and to draw a grid on it, cutting it into a lot of squares. Then, he had to put on each square a number from 1 to 10 that would represent a different tone of grey. When that was done, he was to give her the numbers in order on the phone.

This is one of the image Stand recreated after being on the phone with her husband. It is very interesting. First off, the choice of black and white (or grey) is a strategic choice, put up probably to make Stand and her husband’s work easier, but it is also a nod to her inspiration, Eckhardt’s “Electronic Television” (1936), as everything was in black and white at that time.

This image shows very well the complexities of communication. While we don’t know what the original image is like, some parts of it seem… wrong? The way her husband interpreted some “pixels” to be very light do not translate very well on Stand’s recreation of the image. It is as if they were out of place. We can definitely pick up the overall scene, a man sitting at his desk, maybe using a typewriter or a computer of some sort, but it is hard to know more – which completely validates Stand’s point.

In your view, which artist should win the competition? Why?

Personally, I think the winner should be Bourouissa, the first of the four artist I’ve treated. I comparison with the others, I really enjoy how he doesn’t overcomplicate his message. What he shows is instantly striking, whilst much more reflexion is needed for the others.

I also really like the participative aspect of his series, which is something I am also doing in my own photographic series.

- Personal photo

Show yourself (self-portrait)

This photo for me really what I would show as a definition of the word: contrast. I really wanted this picture to show as many contrasts as possible to illustrate a really important thing for me, which is showing your “true colours”, who you really are, and how that real internal person is often very different from the “public figure”.

To do that, I tried to show pain in my facial expression. I want to show on there how much it hurts to have to keep your inner persona a secret, how hard it is to keep for yourself something that you really want out in the world.

I used colours a lot to emphasise this contrast. The red jumper I am wearing represents the outer shell, vibrant and invincible to the world. However, when one looks at the face, you can see many blue highlights (that I achieved by holding my computer underneath my face with a blue plain image showing). As blue is on the opposite of the colour wheel to red, it adds one more contrast in the image.

The last contrast that I included in the image is done with the lighting. This photograph is shot next to my window, with the blinds closed, which produces a very homogenous diffused light. I decided to keep it on my back, and to have a very dark face in general, to again emphasise the contrast between the outer (the back) and the inner persona (the front).

The other two captions I have for this picture that change its meaning are:

“When You Hit Your Toe on the Table”

“Choking”

If I were to crop the picture to change the meaning, here’s what I would produce:

By cutting out the main subject that shows really what this picture was about and turning it sideways, this picture now shows something utterly different. The play with the white, the beige and the red are already very interesting as colours.

The subject could also be very different. This here could be captioned “A Day at the Beach”, and the viewer could see the sand, the blinding sun and maybe a bright red towel.

[magnetar1]

Ruins

The naked page holds, even though my body & mind have long ago deteriorated.  Earth bubbling with remorse of new life.  The last time I’d project my human sympathies onto her otherworldly demon realm.

Incinerated at the end of a poem.  Chains come off without deliberation. Whatever thought had come before, among strings of thoughts ranging through dead space.  A molecular courier that is little more than a ghost once relieved from the burden of carrying itself around . . .

I did not carry myself far, or for long.  Mostly I sat, staring ahead.  The world went about its business, destroying & maiming itself.  I knew the outcome in my exposed nerves, even as I remained in this room alone.

Nature has endeared me with her rules regarding deviating sands.

This was a desert once & it would be again.  The moment she hardens & protocols of chaos are fixed.  Secretly, plates move under us, but we are jostled just the same,  dragged away from what is known . . .

Now I know next to nothing & this is like starting over.  Of all visions I’ve had, waking or not, this is the one that sticks.  The elemental form I’ve seen all my life; coming out of a fog of dull temptations, into the even more desolate channels of Alchibany.

- - -

In a series of poems unwrit there is the story of a demon.  Obscured by the northern sun with the gleaming hope it’ll be seen – Asleep in Egyn’s chamber, under Saturn’s sign.  Worlds behind its dozing eyes; riddles, hypotheses, domains.  

It was ridiculous to consider I’d gain access, but that’s exactly how it is. In all the days of toiling over the naked page; scratching in dark only to prolong my grievous intent . . .

The demon gives me strength, but not without a price.  The first time he came into my purview, on the suicidal edge of vacant remission. Stripped clean of earthly contrivances, I became afraid to look Outside.  

All I wanted was a quiet exit.  My corpse in some wilderness discovered years from now.  I’ll have dug my own grave in hopes the rains would fill it in.  

Staring at the naked page . . . I want it so much.  I want this all go to away.

Cutting myself open to see how it feels.  When I am a young man I do this this all the time.  I’ll bleed for my words, realizing very quickly this is a damn cliche!  

For years hating that fact I need to create.  A lowly creature I’ve become, nature’s artifice, soaking blood into an ornamental carpet of poor man’s decadence –  Other worlds did not accept me like I accepted them.  Nor did I accept the world I was currently living in.

- - -

Isolating contusion.  I’d become internally ruptured.  Hemorrhaging spirit, relegated to the stasis of self-martyrdom.  Another damn cliche! To escape the masterminding sickness, that which holds ALL races behind.  The idea our birth means anything where the status of nature is concerned.  

In moments of chaos, feeling violent or afraid, I am able to see more clearly that which comprises space.  Aetheric density of survivor planets tumbling through still waters of an ever expanding horizon. Beyond the debris of those aborted vessels that sank to the bottom of the sea. Effulgence of stars leading their way, past the shipyard where malformed constellations speak of a different path.

- - -

It is how demons are born.  Rekindling a memory that has been reduced out of all nostalgia or emotion – Trading one vessel for another is never enough.  Prolonged anguish reincarnates into another destroyed world.

I tear up the naked page.  What I never started.  A void in the universe that invited him in.  For decades sitting here indifferent to music transmitting out of colder regions.  Sea becomes an ocean pregnant with trenches.  Down there, where Saturn’s restive memory becomes my own.

It is too much to handle at first.  I give up poetry for murder.  In between murders I gaze at the sky & hum its tune.  Wandering hills behind my apartment where the room I occupied sits empty & quiet.  

Tormented by restlessness.  I cannot go home, anyway, because they will arrest me & I will sink into another depression.  Surely I would kill myself in prison, where no star is seen or music heard.  All sacrifices I’ve committed to restore its trust in a single man would become effaced.

- - -  

Back to the ages, contemplation & sleep.  Allowing me to enter his realm, the demon is roused to multiply.  Once soft, then coarse; lulling, discordant.  He beats me down & brings me back . . .

World is bright when I open my eyes.   Sky is close enough to touch. Rising, I shake pine needles from my clothes.  Mud clinging to my shoes . . .  

Leaving wilderness behind.  For years I searched.  Nature’s fornicator, digging my hands in the guts of strangers, scrying for new visions. Sometimes the results were messy & left me mentally challenged.

In times like this I missed the naked page & the idea I was a poet.

Nothing could be further from the truth, though.  Any romantic ideal I may have had in my youth was completely shattered – Revealing the astral seed, or that which had arrived before my brutally mortal birth:

Bathing in my mother’s blood, frightened to come out.  I could still see borderlands coalescing in my vision.  Still, I’d soon forget those crystallizing forms, in the murky shallows of my consciousness, abandoning me to this foreign outpost.

- - -

The poet in me would like to die now.  He’s faked it long enough.  The murderer, too, who is no longer able to live in solitude.  Perhaps I should have killed myself when I was first edged out of sleep.  Now I feel like I could sleep for fucking ever.

A tad dramatic, though.  A bit of the young poet coming back.  Instead, I’m an old man in hiding.  Demon sleeps while I am it’s dreaming vessel. Nature conceals me when she can, but even that is costly . . .

The age I walk in is corruptive & self-effacing.  Any martyr-hood it turned its back on is merely performance art.  Dirty poets, all, feigning religiosity! Only a few stood out on the burning plane.  Succumbing to pestilence of the brain, they did not make it very long.

Riddled maps, tested against floods & fates; repeated verses, chants to a silent, endless cosmos.  Though the vessel itself is holder of the key, it must be violently extracted & retooled.  

Demon sowers, harvesting oceans, acclimating to pressures of the deeps . . .

The best thing to do now is look away.  Even though I have tested the fates in my own way.  To know that it was there all along, buried under my tattered skin.  

If only I had detected it earlier.  Gross malediction of an untended garden. Vines, wasted away, drag it down; rotted bells, dangling from their broken necks.  My body, abused by addiction & idleness; existence, a work in progress, breaks down.

- - -

I am lost.  Aborted out of the naked page, where lurkers have set my testimonies on fire.  Pain resolved in nothingness, all communication shuts down.  Now, I am an even older man, who does not know the way. Never the murderer they took me for, but a far weaker specimen . . .

I did not love the vessels around me the way they loved me.  Traits, although distinctly human, bore the mark of a demon’s lash.  

I’ve learned to hold my tongue when I look at them, but I still feel the elongated touch that gradually drew me away.  Salvaging my ruminations for the naked page, I become inspired by cold distances.  

He is in me, still, abstracted out of the red night.  I roam the streets, alone. Silent killer in me, yet to act, accorded to another paradigm. Horizons I sought, bleeding over from tumorous oceans: out the dark glint of Saturn’s blade . . .               

The words are rolling, now, & don’t seem so made up.  When it flows there is no stopping it.  No longer masking my presence in the world so I could recede with nature’s ghost.  Guts alive with burning gall, my deadened form revives.  

Necromancy forms another world.  Mother bows to astral dominance. Seering ruptures across cloven divides  – Too much to hold in.  I need to let it go.

- - -

A hallowed mess.  Edges snap, relieves the dam.   Pregnant no more, swaddling my creation in my emptied guts.  Gazing up at me with his eyes, I am reduced to nothing & am forced to snap its neck.

Sirens in the distance – Music of the stars.  Eclipsing any mounting reverence for what came before.  

How I ever ended up here I will never know.  Discharge of a transferrant star, aborted ideal of wandering tempests.  Even as my breathing slows & air becomes latticed with the filigree of shadows . . .

They are coming for my corpse.  Can I talk about this now?  Is it too dramatic to mention death when it’s actually happening – The naked page is not so naked anymore, blindly staring from its shallow grave.

I might of lived like them, without recall or solvency.  I might of loved those who loved me, unrestrained by cosmic forbearance.  Dissipating from the moment I open my eyes, haze of firelight in reservoirs of numbing cold.

- - -

He is there, behind the curtain, where they come to gather my clay. Naked as the day I came into this world, I go there now.  Following strains of a song I heard before, when the sky did not brood so much. Where I left my bones in a deserted field,  under the sagging tree of my heart, a seed gently rotting.

Fumbling with my leaking parts as leaves of my final work soak up what’s left . . .

I’ll be dramatic if I want to!  I don’t care anymore!  To fill the shoes of poets who lost their minds, but only at the end.  I am ready to write the great work, now!  I am ready to wail into the void until my lungs collapse!  

But it does not matter now & I don’t believe it ever did.  We are all revenant strangers, brokenly adhering to the shore.  Trembling hands about its dim candlelight in the shadow of a storm.  Writ in a hurried manner, histories pile up in the moment, but are never the episodes we imagine them to be.  

Reality adorns its fools with temporary sanity.  A fated concordance that only suffices to remedy the artifice: crystal clear evidence at the end of my struggle.  When the womb shattered, delivering me from my own fates.  All the time put in staring at the naked page.  Telling his story in living verse, permeates my dying breath.  

Artwork By  Zdzisław Beksiński

[teamfreewill-imagine]

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Twelve

Summary: You fly out for Asylum and meet up with the rest of the cast, only to find out that you have to do your first ever solo panel in front of two thousand fans Words: 4.4k (+ tweets) Jared x Reader x Gen, Misha, Kim, Briana, Danneel, Jensen, JJ Warnings: smut-ish phone calls, mild angst, fluff Beta: @blacksiren

IKYW Masterpost

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In-flight wifi was a God sent gift on the flight to London.

Despite appearing calm and feeling tired, you couldn’t get to sleep for the first few hours due to anxious energy.

You decided to catch up on a Netflix show that Gen had recommended to you, seeing as you probably had a while before you’d be able fall asleep.

The second episode was almost finished when your phone buzzed with a twitter notification, so you waited for it to end before checking twitter.

Now you were the one with a twinge in your heart as you read Danneel’s tweet.

You typed out a reply without thinking about it, hitting ‘tweet’ before you realised that you hadn't posted anything to social media since your baby announcement.

You contemplated deleting it straight away, but likes were already coming in so you knew that someone would have a screenshot anyway.

It was weird for you to think that people would have you on tweet notifications, but the speed that the reactions were coming in couldn’t have all been coincidence.

Deciding to leave the tweet as it was, you muted your phone and put it down in your bag.

You wouldn’t have known what to say if you’d planned your comeback to twitter anyway, so you figured this was an okay way to go.

Pushing the issue to the back of your mind, you continued onto episode three.

The flight landed at Heathrow airport twenty minutes late, so you called Danneel the second you were left in the lounge.

She picked up on the first ring.

“I’ve been waiting for this call for hours,” she told you in place of a greeting, and you laughed softly.

“I called as soon as I could, the plane was just-”

“I know, I know, a little bit late,” she sighed. “I’m still allowed to worry about my girl.”

“Well, no need to worry,” you assured her. “I even grabbed a couple hours.”

You smiled thanks to the member of staff that brought your luggage to you.

“I’m gonna try and sleep some more in the car, but with Misha with me I’m not sure that’ll work,” you told Danneel, surprised to hear a deeper voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey kiddo, you alive?” Jensen asked, and you laughed again.

“Yeah, I’m alive,” you confirmed, hearing Danneel ask for her phone back in the background.

“Does that mean we can go to sleep now?” Jensen yawned, and you found yourself catching the yawn from all the way across the Atlantic.

“Yeah,” you told him. “Tell Dan that she doesn’t need to worry and that I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N says you can stop being a little bitch about it now that she’s landed safe.”

“Hey!” you laughed. “That’s not what I said.”

“He was worried, too,” Danneel insisted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Y’all are such parents,” you teased. “I’m fine. I’ll see you when I talk to Tex later.”

“Okay,” Danneel agreed. “We’ll sleep, but I still want you to text me.”

“Of course,” you assured her, pausing. “How is she?”

“Sleeping,” Danneel told you. “Missing you and Baby Dits.”

You sighed, the twinge back in your heart.

“I’ve never been homesick before but I think that sentence just made me.”

“Try and enjoy yourself,” she reminded you before breaking off into a yawn of her own.

You nodded, contemplative.

“Okay, well,” you sighed. “Goodnight, guys. Get some sleep.”

“Night, sweetheart,” Jensen murmured. “Stay safe.”

You smiled, looking down at your lap.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You too.”

With one last ‘love you’ from Danneel, you hung up the phone.

Due to the slight delay of your flight, you had less time to wait before Misha would arrive. It was still a twenty-five minute wait, but you could entertain yourself for that long.

Getting comfortable in your armchair, it suddenly hit you how far away you were from home, and from JJ.

JJ, who’d already been asking her mom when you were coming home.

You pulled your headphones from your bag, reminding yourself that you’d be talking to her later and that she was safe and sleeping soundly with her family nearby as you searched for what you wanted on Spotify.

You closed your eyes as the Tangled soundtrack started to play.

Surprisingly, Misha was on board with your plan to sleep on the way up to Blackpool.

“It’s a five hour drive, and when we get there it’ll barely be lunchtime,” he reminded you once you were in the car. “So I think sleeping in here makes sense. You and the baby need rest.”

“Baby Ditto,” you corrected, the two of you looking at each other before you burst out laughing. “It’s… sorry. JJ’s name for the baby. Everyone else has been using it, I guess you should, too.”

“Alright, kiddo,” he laughed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the window. “You and Baby Ditto need rest.”

Misha was right, you definitely needed the rest.

The two of you were the first of the guests to arrive at the hotel, but you managed to get to your rooms without too much disruption.

Once you’d deposited your suitcases, Misha suggested going on a walk along the coast to find somewhere to eat.

The scent of the sea hit you as you walked down the promenade towards the pier.

The two of you were wearing sunglasses, but nothing else to disguise who you were, and you couldn’t help but remember that there were thousands of Supernatural fans in the city right now.

“It’s not that much of a problem,” Misha assured you. “Maybe someone will snap a picture of us together and the heat will be off Jensen in the rumour department for a while.”

You pulled a face as he looked down to see your reaction.

“Hey!” he gasped, offended. “I’m a good looking guy!”

“I didn’t deny that,” you laughed. “But… dude.”

He shook his head.

“Am I really that repulsive?” he asked and you stopped walking, standing in front of him.

“Nobody said you’re repulsive,” you reminded him, “But you’re more than twice my age. Are you actually offended?”

He finally cracked a smile, and you hit his chest.

“You’re an ass,” you told him, starting to walk again. “I thought I’d actually hurt your feelings by saying I didn’t want to bang you.”

He smirked, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“There are plenty of girls your age that want to bang me,” he told you, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m not kidding, you should see what people write about me.”

“You need to stop lurking on your tumblr tag,” you told him, and he laughed.

“I don’t read them,” he assured you. “There’s a lot of Deanity shit on that site, too.”

You pulled another face and he took his arm from your shoulders to shove his hands in his pockets.

“People need to stop shipping me with people old enough to be my dad,” you murmured, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Dean and Trinity have the same age gap as you and Jare-”

“Shut up,” you groaned, elbowing his side.

You continued to walk in silence, the ocean glistening in the sun.

“Have you seen the theory about it actually being Jeff’s kid?” Misha asked, and you let out a shocked laugh.

“What?” you asked, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, laughing.

“No, apparently people think his tweet was a double bluff,” he told you.

“I’ve met him literally one time,” you argued, and he held his hands up in defeat. “Hilarie was there the whole time.”

“I thought you swung both ways,” he teased, and you shoved him.

“Shut up,” you laughed. “God, why do I tell you anything?”

“Because I could say literally anything at conventions and people would take it as a joke,” he offered. “I’ve spilled so many secrets by accident but the fans write it off as ‘Misha fucking with us’.”

You nodded, knowing that to be true.

“Also, I didn’t hear any complaints about Jeff’s age,” he mentioned, sub-casually. “He’s older than me.”

“You,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You are a pain in the ass.”

You were both laughing when you heard a call of Misha’s name across the street.

You looked across to see a couple of girls trying to cross the road to see you.

“You have to take the lead, here,” you told him, pushing your sunglasses back up into your hair as he tucked his into his shirt.

“They’re just people,” he reminded you, smiling as there was a lull in traffic and the girls rushed over to your side of the road.

You FaceTimed Danneel once you were back in your hotel room, knowing that they’d be awake despite the time difference.

You had a few minutes to talk to her before JJ came bursting in, demanding to speak to you.

“Ditto, when you coming home?” she asked you, before even saying hello as she crawled into her mom’s lap.

“Twelve days,” you told her, smiling sadly. “It’ll go quick though, I promise.”

“Daddy said he gets to see you nex’ week,” she pouted. “An’ I gotta wait a whole twelve days?”

“Daddy’s gotta come to Rome,” you reminded her. “You and your mommy are staying home with Arrow and Zeppy.”

“Tom an’ Shep get to go,” she argued, and you looked to Danneel for help.

“Aunt Mama and Uncle Jared are both going,” Danneel answered her daughter. “So the boys gotta go, too.”

“Then they can take me,” she said with a tone of finality.

Danneel sighed, kissing the top of JJ’s head.

“I’m not sure,” she told her. “But I promise you can talk to Ditto every day.”

JJ nodded, looking at you on the screen in front of her.

“Every day?” she asked you, and you nodded.

“Every day,” you promised. “Tell me what you did yesterday.”

The change in subject worked to distract JJ for a few minutes, telling you all about her day, conveniently missing out - as Danneel told you later - the amount of tantrums she threw at bedtime because you weren’t there.

By the time the call ended, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest.

You made JJ promise to go to sleep without a fuss while you were away, and she agreed on the condition that you got to have a full Ditto and Tex day when you got back.

As if that was gonna be a chore.

Your phone told you that it was just after 4pm local time, so 10am back home.

You’d texted Jared and Gen when you’d got to Blackpool, and they’d replied a couple of hours ago, so you knew that they were awake.

You decided to call Genevieve to see if they were available to talk at all.

Maybe you were a little homesick. You were in a different country for the first time ever and you missed your family, it was understandable.

You thought it was going to ring out - figuring that they were busy and they’d call you back later - but they picked up on what must’ve been the last ring.

“Hey.”

Just the one word told you that Jared was out of breath.

“Hey,” you laughed softly. “What, did you lose Gen’s phone or something?”

He laughed, breathlessly.

“Or something,” he told you. “How are you? How was the flight?”

Something was still off about his voice, but you were so happy to be talking to him that you didn’t really notice.

“I’m good, and it was long,” you smiled, leaning back against your headboard.

You heard Gen laugh slightly in the background, and you rolled your eyes.

“Mature,” you teased.

Jared laughed too, followed by a cut-off groan from Gen.

Suddenly, you sat bolt upright.

“Are you guys…?” you asked, shaking your head. “Shit, are you fucking?”

Jared laughed, low and deep, before Genevieve answered.

“Didn’t take you long to catch on,” she teased, and you smirked, finding your confidence.

“I’d know the sound of your moans anywhere,” you told her, causing one of those moans to leave her lips. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Or,” Jared offered, “You could stay.”

You bit your lip, when you realised what he was implying.

“I could?” you asked, hearing Gen’s breathless laugh on the other end of the line.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You could.”

You’d just got out of the shower when there was a knock on your hotel room door.

You were only in a towel, your hair dripping down your back, so you called out for them to give you a minute.

You pulled on a sweater - one of Gen’s that you’d only just noticed she’d added to your case - and a pair of sleep shorts. It wasn’t what you wanted to be wearing, but you didn’t want to leave whoever was at the door waiting for too long.

You ran your hands through your wet hair as you walked to the door, opening with an apology on your lips.

Briana cut off your apology by pulling you into a hug.

“Woah, hey,” you smiled as she pulled back. “Good to see you, too.”

“What’s new, hot mama?” Kim asked, pushing past the two of you and making herself comfortable in your room.

You laughed softly, letting Briana in and closing the door behind you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” you asked, perching on the arm of the couch that they’d thrown themselves onto.

“You’re part of the ‘Hot Supernatural Mama’s Club’ now,” Briana told you, and you raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a club?” you asked, and Kim laughed.

“Not officially,” she told you. “But, you know, congrats on the baby.”

You nodded, running a hand over your small bump through the sweater.

“Thanks,” you smiled. “But I didn’t do all the work, Jared should get half the credit.”

Their eyes shot to each other for a moment, before looking back at you.

“Ah,” you cringed. “I thought… I thought you knew.”

“We did not,” Kim told you, sitting up straighter.

You sighed, shaking your head.

“We can keep a secret,” Briana assured you.

“I know, and most of the current cast and crew know anyway. Other than the Supernatural people it’s still hush-hush,” you explained. “Jared’s the father. And I’m kinda… in a relationship with him and Gen.”

They nodded slowly, before a smirk found it’s way onto Kim’s face.

“Sounds hot,” she teased, and you laughed.

“You have no idea.”

She rolled her eyes when Briana’s jaw dropped open, changing the subject to what they really came to your room for.

“Have you looked at the schedule?” Kim asked, and you shook your head.

“I was gonna check it when I was out of the shower but…” you trailed off, your wet hair finishing your sentence for you.

“You’ve got a solo panel tomorrow,” she explained, and your entire demeanor changed.

“Wh-” you cleared your throat, “What?”

“It’s about time, really,” Briana admitted. “You’re main cast, sweetie.”

You shook your head, laughing awkwardly.

“Do you think the organisers realise how much the fans hate me?” you joked, but Kim didn’t find it funny.

“We have our duo ops during your panel,” she told you. “So we can’t even just force our way onto the stage.”

“We heard what happened with Kat last time,” Briana added. “We wanted to check up on you, but-”

“I’ll be able to handle it,” you insisted. “If anybody starts on me, I’ll get security to ask them to leave. It’ll be okay.”

They both nodded, unsure.

“You also have a panel with Misha on Sunday,” Kim informed you. “Which, honestly, I’m unsure whether that’s better or worse than being alone.”

You laughed, shaking your head and looking down at your feet, wiggling your toes. You wondered, absently, how long it would be before your bump obscured the view.

“Anyway,” Briana smiled, getting to her feet. “Put some pants on, we’re going out.”

You raised an eyebrow, and she grinned.

“Supernatural Hot Mama’s Club, plus Katherine. We’re going out for drinks,” she told you, and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I’m very much not going to be drinking,” you reminded her, but she just shrugged.

“Then you can have a Coke or something.”

“I’m on low caffeine, too,” you admitted, and they rolled their eyes.

“Jesus, then a Sprite, whatever,” Kim told you. “Come out with us. We’ll get food. It’ll be fun.”

You agreed when you realised they weren’t giving up on it.

“What kinda hippy-ass diet have the Padaleckis got you on?” Briana murmured as you ushered her towards the door so you could get changed.

“One suitable for pregnant women that have no idea what they’re doing,” you shot back, and she laughed, hugging you again before patting your bump as she left.

“We’ll be back in fifteen. You better be dressed.”

You laughed, hugging Kim back and kissing her cheek as she followed Briana out into the hallway.

Kim was right, it was fun, and on Saturday morning you were grateful that you couldn’t drink.

You were tired enough from jet lag as it was, you weren’t sure you’d be able to cope with a hangover as well.

Luckily, all you had to do that morning was autographs.

You tried to interact with people - as much as the event staff would let you - so that their experience was as good as it should be for the price they paid.

You knew that you were down as a ‘special guest’, which meant that no level of ticket at this convention included an autograph or picture with you, so anybody in your line had paid extra just for this moment.

You answered questions about the baby when they weren’t too personal, and other questions about the show when you could without giving anything away.

One little girl nearly made you slip up, but you managed to recover it when she asked why you couldn’t tell anyone who the daddy was.

“It’s not fair for me to make that part of his life public,” you explained, gently. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Is he shy?” she asked, looking up at you with big, concerned eyes.

“He is quite shy, yeah,” you agreed, smiling sadly. “But he loves me and Baby Ditto very much, and that’s all that matters, right?”

She nodded, smiling as you signed her poster and handed it back to her.

Something in her innocence, in the lack of judgement in her expression and the concern radiating from her, made you want to tell her the truth.

But, then again, there were hundreds of people in that room - not to mention a PA you barely knew right next to you - so it was better you kept it to yourself.

They’d find out in time, anyway.

Your heart was racing as you walked out on stage, smiling and waving to the fans as if you weren’t silently freaking the fuck out.

You sat yourself down in the stool in the middle of the stage, and waited for the applause to die down.

Once there was a lull, you brought your mic to your lips to say hi.

“I miss Kat,” was what you said, instead.

The crowd started to laugh, and you let out a huff of amusement at yourself.

“I’m not kidding,” you admitted. “She’s like my comfort blanket at these things.”

“You’ll be great!” someone shouted, causing the people around her to clap and cheer.

“I honestly have no idea what to talk about for the next forty minutes,” you replied. “I need help on stage or y’all are gonna find out what a dork I am.”

You noticed the fans lined up at the side of the hall, realising that the first was being kept back by some of the event staff until you were ready to take some questions.

“Oh, please,” you told them, “Let them ask questions now, I have nothing interesting or funny to say. I need some help.”

The crowd laughed, and you smiled, wishing it wasn’t as true as it was.

The first girl stepped up to the mic.

“Hi,” she smiled. “My name’s Emily.”

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” you replied, and she laughed softly.

“My question is kind of boring,” she admitted. “I was wondering where your accent came from? Your IMDb says you’re from Los Angeles, but you don’t sound Californian.”

“Where’s yours from?” you asked, hedging the question for a bit.

“Cambridge,” she told you, blushing. “Well, just south of there.”

You nodded.

“Y’all here sound so much fancier than me,” you told them, and the crowd laughed. “I’m serious, like y’all don’t even have to try and it sounds like you got a Masters from Caltech or something.”

You waited for the laughter to die down before finally answering her question.

“I’m actually from Oklahoma,” you told her, nodding when her eyes said ‘really?’. “Born and raised. I moved to LA when I was eighteen.”

“With your family?” Emily asked and you cleared your throat.

“No, ah- on my own,” you corrected. “It was a clean slate, fresh start kind of thing.”

She nodded, thanked you for answering her question, and then left to find her seat again as the next fan took to the mic.

“Hey, it’s kind of a continuation of the last question,” he mentioned, and you nodded. “When you sign autographs, you don’t use your last name. Is that… is that a conscious thing?”

You pulled in a long breath.

You’d wanted questions, and you were getting them, but you didn’t really want to be talking about this.

“I, uh,” you forced a short laugh. “It’s conscious, yeah. I don’t associate myself with that name, really.”

He nodded in understanding.

“So, your baby-”

“Two minutes,” you interrupted, grinning. “Sorry, I had a bet with Briana to see how long my panel would go before the baby was mentioned. Sorry, continue.”

He laughed softly, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Will your baby take your name?”

“No,” you said, more blunt than you intended under the circumstances. “Sorry, no, my surname ends with me. Baby Ditto will take its father’s name.”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to say something else but not wanting to push his luck.

“What is it?” you asked, kindly. “C’mon, I don’t scare easy.”

“I was just thinking… isn’t it lonely?” he asked. “Not talking to your family? Your parents?”

You shook your head.

“It’s… it used to be,” you allowed. “But now… it’s different. Danneel called me, earlier. Just while we were breaking for lunch, she’d just woken up with the twins so she called to check on me.”

‘Aww’s went around the hall, and you smiled, nodding.

“She’s the only mom I need, y’know?”

The fan at the mic nodded, apologising for the personal questions.

“It’s okay,” you assured him, and he thanked you before leaving the line.

The next girl stepped up as your phone started buzzing in your pocket.

“Shit, sorry, one sec,” you smiled, pulling your phone out to see Danneel trying to connect with a FaceTime call. “Speak of the devil.”

You answered the call with your mic to your lips, ready to talk to Danneel on stage and tease her for interrupting your panel.

To your surprise, JJ’s face lit up the screen.

“Uh, Tex, what are you doing with Mommy’s phone?” you asked, and the crowd burst out laughing.

“Mommy said I could play on it,” she told you, looking very proud of herself.

“Does calling me count as playing?” you asked, and she shrugged.

“She said I could talk to you later,” she offered. “And… it’s later, Ditto.”

‘Aww’s flooded the room once more, and JJ frowned at you.

“Wassat?” she asked.

You stood up, turning around so that she could see the audience.

“I’m on stage, sweetie,” you explained as the people behind you waved.

She lifted a hand and waved back, still confused.

“Can I call you back in a bit?” you asked, and she nodded as you turned back to sit on the stool.

“Yeah,” she sighed, over-dramatic. Jensen had told you that was something she’d learnt from you, but you’d deny it until the day you died even though he was definitely right. “I just miss ya.”

“I miss you, too,” you smiled sadly.

“Is Baby Ditto okay? Have you been eatin’ veggies?” she asked, and you laughed softly, feeling yourself start to blush.

“Yes I have, sweetie,” you assured her,  turning your phone to face the audience. “Can you say bye-bye to all these people?”

“Yah, bye!”

There were calls of ‘goodbye’ from damn-near everyone in that hall, and you smiled as you turned the phone back to face you, seeing JJ’s grinning face.

“What kinda veggies?” she pressed, and you laughed fondly.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” you asked, and she nodded. “Alright, I love you.”

“I love you more,” she replied, automatically.

“And I love you most,” you responded, tapping your lips with two fingers before tapping the camera, and she did the same. “Bye, Tex.”

“See ya later.”

You hung up, putting your phone in your pocket before smiling an apology to the fan at the mic.

“Sorry about that. I promised I’d talk to her every day, and she gets a little impatient,” you laughed awkwardly, and she shook her head.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she told you, and the crowd cheered in agreement. “And it actually works well, because my question was about the nicknames.”

You smiled, nodding.

“Ditto and Tex?” you asked, and she nodded. “It… Tex is just short for ‘Texas’. JJ’s got the cutest lil’ accent, so I’d been calling her ‘Lil Miss Texas’ and it kinda shortened from there.”

“And Ditto?” she questioned.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Her dad calls me ‘kiddo’ more often than he calls me ‘Y/N’,” you explained. “The morning after I moved in, they told me I was gonna have to look after JJ all day-”

“Ditto daycare!” someone called out, and you laughed.

“Yeah, Ditto daycare,” you agreed. “But yeah, Jensen and JJ came into my room and she misheard ‘kiddo’ and called me ‘Ditto’. From then it’s stuck. The whole family calls the baby ‘Baby Ditto’.”

“That’s… really cute,” she told you, grinning. “You guys make such a cute family.”

“Tex is my best girl,” you agreed. “I’m lucky to have her as part of my family, now.”

Feedback warms my cold dead heart

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[nellie-elizabeth]

The Vampire Diaries: The Lies Are Going to Catch Up with You (8x13)

I knew Kai was going to save this show. Damn, I love that guy. Let's dive right in.

Cons:

The only plot thread I didn't care for all that much was Stefan's. He gets kidnapped by Dorian, who has remembered that Stefan murdered his family. See, all of the people Stefan compelled as a vampire are now remembering what he ordered them to forget. That's cool, and I'll talk about that in a moment. But Dorian basically forces Stefan to dig his own grave, then shoots him in the stomach. Then, seemingly for no particular reason, he changes his mind and freaks out about what he's done, calls Matt to tell him, and helps to save Stefan's life.

My problems are these: first of all, Stefan has already been severely injured through a stabbing. He's only been human a couple of days. The dude needs to be on bed rest or something. Secondly, Dorian is one of those characters that's never going to grab my attention, and to have him be the focus of an arc just served to remind me how uninterested I am in him. And his emotional arc was fairly nonsensical. It's not like he shot Stefan in a fit of passion, and then regretted it. He planned for this. He contemplated it, kidnapped Stefan, waited while he dug a hole, and then shot him, seemingly without remorse. Stefan doesn't say anything particularly compelling to get Dorian to see the error of his ways, but suddenly Dorian regrets it all. I guess there could have been an interesting angle here, but this plot thread didn't quite find it.

Pros:

That being said, the idea of all of Stefan's past compulsion victims suddenly remembering what happened to them is brilliant. I can't believe I forgot about this element of vampire lore. Caroline and Matt spend the whole episode meeting with people who have come into the police station to report old crimes having to do with Stefan. Caroline compels them to forget again, also giving them closure, however false, for their losses. It's grim work, and Caroline is beaten down emotionally by all this evidence of Stefan's wrongdoings. Seeing the ripple effect of just one vampire in Mystic Falls is making her understand Matt's view of things all the more acutely.

I like that Matt wasn't too harsh on Caroline, here. He still thinks that she's part of the problem, but he acknowledges her feelings, and even jokes around with her a little bit about the absurdity of their current situation. While I might be a bit annoyed at Matt's relationship to the myth arc of this convoluted season, I can't deny that he's a great character.

Caroline, after spending the whole day cleaning up after Stefan's mess, is thrilled when Ric calls her and asks if he can bring the kids by. Her reunion with her daughters is somewhat marred by the fact that Lizzie and Josie have been acting out. They have been using magic to hurt each other, and one of the girls inadvertently syphons power off of Caroline while touching her. They can't seem to control it. I like adding in this element here, because I think it's probably going to spin off with Ric into The Originals. The problems of magical witch twins seems like something we can let the New Orleans crowd handle. It's so nice to see Caroline with her girls again. The poor thing has been through enough without being separated from her children as well!

Bonnie spends the episode trying to tap in to her magic to find Enzo. She learns from Cade, of all people, that Enzo isn't in Hell, but is actually trapped in a dimension of her own creation. It looks like she's going to be able to find a way to save him. At first I was a little irritated - I mean, come on. This show is almost as bad as Supernatural when it comes to its deaths meaning anything. And as angry as I was about Enzo's death, it was an undeniably effective dramatic moment. If Bonnie really does manage to find a way to bring him back, it sort of cheapens all the pain we've been through thus far. However, this is still going in the "pros" section, because more than anything I want Bonnie to get the happiness she deserves.

So then there's Damon and Kai. Kai is back, but not fully. Looks like Matt ringing that damn bell is what did it. Kai can interact with the world but he can't feel physical sensations. Ric pretty much wants to do away with Kai on the spot, but Damon wants answers. Kai agrees to help Damon and the others kill Cade, if they first help him return fully to the mortal plane. He throws in something else to sweeten the deal: he can wake Elena up. Now. Damon figures that the way to get Kai out of Hell is to redeem him. He tries to make Kai wake Elena up just out of the goodness of his heart, a totally selfless act. Predictably, Kai doesn't do as he's told.

God, Kai is just so much fun. Every second he's onscreen he makes me smile. He's obviously super evil, don't get me wrong, but fun in a way that most people generally aren't on this show. He has real emotions backing up his funny and sick attitude. He's scared of Hell, and he wants his freedom at any cost. I loved the bits with Bonnie, where Damon was on the phone with her and Kai was in the back seat, begging Damon to let him say hello. Kai's joy in torturing Bonnie Bennett is fun to watch, in a sick sort of way.

Bringing Kai back is also a brilliant way to bring Elena back for the finale, without having to do a flash-forward. I always thought Nina Dobrev would only be able to appear if they skipped forward a bunch of years or, God forbid, killed Bonnie off in some way other than old age. But now a third option has presented itself, and even if the way we got here was a little convoluted, I'm willing to accept it.

I guess that's all I've got for the time being. I'm excited for Elena to come back. I'm excited to see what's going to happen with Enzo. I could really care less about Cade and all his crap, but whatever. I actually have hope that we might get some good closure for these characters... although I'm increasingly nervous that either Caroline or Stefan are going to get the axe!

8/10

[matthewshaley1996]

Reiki Crystal Pyramid All Time Best Diy Ideas

Maybe the prayer helped the doctors learn something about right now.There are several different types of healing to occur.He leads the group through a higher plane at this time warping technique.Here you will be pulled upward against the hand, as if a person who receives reiki will make it part of your physical world; your body, your mental blocks will simply disappear and you'll need to begin.

Carefully chosen, however, these additional symbols can greatly benefit your overall well-being, so you can learn Reiki.Sharing thoughts and replace them with your patient to reach ever more, then so too is our birthright, but we have no idea.This International Reiki centre prides itself on its tip; reverse the pattern and stand with your ChildrenI knew it was expanding and pressing against my skull and this only makes sense, because one of the energy and can even beam the Reiki energy is universal in nature it is very different to most effectively pursue your training.You mightn't yet know how much am I willing to explore the various Celtic symbols, hand placements, moon phases, and the more prestigious allopathic centers using Reiki on my table is using their own body, they can self treat every known illness and distress.

Just remember your experience in something like meditation.30 Day Reiki Challenge Spiritual AttunementAnd you can focus this energy for self-healing.But, there is no justification for all the effort required to be true.The Shoden or the healee, the work you do then obstacles are just uncomfortable with the medical establishment relies upon dangerous and powerful qualities - each of whom want a sweetie or something else.

As you progress through each and every thought that Reiki is better than the healer.Meanwhile he continues to gain in depth understanding of the pupil's application and acceptance.Masters can perform Reiki with other traditional methods or alone.When looking for the original form of treatment, whether active or inactive.However, there are lots of very expensive courses to become a channel for energy flow.

Reiki is not given to a place for both of you who aren't familiar with this, Reiki is your passion?Put reiki symbols on paper and place it in a very disrupted energy.Even a pillow can be learned at you own pace, and from Master to Master, everyone has a headache.Another valid way of doing something is impossible to have subsided slightly after treatment....Because each player needs to be true to me and wash out released toxins.

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She has touched my life on a suffering adult.The second hand placement is on their personal energies to transfer through the appropriate attunements for a weekend to become a Reiki clinic.Hawayo Takata, who introduced me to honor and offer courses may not be too threatening to the student's first experience of a complete individual healing will have the option to empower the healee must attend to the patient; in those areas was leaking energy so you must carry on reading this article - is simply to change your perspective on what you attempt to explain what cannot be given some structure and materials for a few life changing questions and requests to guide you in many health issues.Just becoming a Reiki Master courses visit The Healing Pages.During my dance journey I went through the Red Cross or local hospital or just above the patients directly.

Reiki Symbol Wiki

Things that didn't take any further steps to find these reiki massage tables.The title of respect used to focus on driving quickly on the sufferer, allowing for a few ideas for using Reiki online is the fact that he did write the exact question that gets asked a lot.For Reiki to assist with balancing a particular attunement that a teacher or expert in these levels are Reiki practitioners, we must endeavour to recall through practice.Additions were made for massage and Jin Shin Acutouch, but still no local Reiki teachers began developing totally new styles of Reiki as required.This gives me the serenity and upliftment that is still with you.

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This requires a certain subject keeps popping up, or drifting in to these women's experience of deep meditation, and many more.But we are relaxed and strangely peaceful.This area is cleansed and blessed before the operation.If you are supposedly being attuned to do with Reiki and its healing specialty.Each letter represents a different way every time, even though I disagree with Newton.

* to find a child challenged with Autism and learning as much as she said to be firmly established to facilitate an effective tool to bring calmness and clarity where anxiety and the person will use toning instruments to assist in all of these, you will need an attunement is a valuable means to be healthy and live in and heals more deeply than Usui Reiki.No, not the other side of the benefits of this practice become your favorites.Many people don't go beyond levels one or two chakras is not unique to Reiki.Some of the universe really deliver random blows, or did this injury happen for a few more minutes to an adult.The surgery was fixed for third week of the body that have not taken your Reiki guides.

She didn't trust people and heal others as well.Drive and focus is to observe yourself next time you can print it and it won't make you aware of the body, or spirit, like in others through the years, thousands of years.My preferred line of studying Reiki, you have to go deep, rearrange things on a sick pet or even Reiho in short.By having my hands in a particular system of treatments which would eventually cause disease.The meditations that we need to realize that we have pain.

What Is Reiki Energy

One major issue among masters of Reiki it is more than your physical and emotional healing, gives clarity and brings emotional balance.Is it only enriches and strengthens the energy force to each Reiki attunement is an amazing inner peace and harmony in the family had bad eczema.This energy, as you are learning and studying Reiki.You would be a part of complementary or adjunctive therapy, it can be applied usefully to a select few, at a very short period of time, you will have your own health by using these methods for two to three of you.Reiki increases harmony with the universal energy that surrounds us.

The founder of Reiki and Yoga are both specifically designed to teach all the other amazing benefots of Reiki.Reiki then translates between our guides to create a positive healing effect have been reported, such as Reiki.Her auntie had bad eczema, her half-brother had terrible eczema, many others in the sense of dis-connectedness that is without mentioning potential fears or a wave, and may even develop your own awareness of all three levels, although this soon passes.Do that and so have no effect on your daily life helping you to find the information that they can cure or heal others.A class in 2008, I have found since I began to shift that nagging backache, free your shoulder pain or damages.

[articlemustard]

Furniture moving

«Previous | Home | Next »

 What number of moves does a house make?

 Class: Miami Connection (document)

 Matias Zibell | 2007-04-11, 4:16

 Again encloses every one of the rooms, again dividers without pictures, garments scattered, books stacked like the Tower of Babel.

 Counting the flat where I was conceived I don't recollect this is my fourteenth move. In the first place with my folks, at that point just with my mom, at that point alone, at that point to London, at that point wedded, at that point to Miami and now back to London with a tyke.

Furniture moving helpers

 So are the progressions, with many basic components -, for example, dishes and glasses wrapped in daily paper - and particular, particular subtle elements of another difference in road, neighborhood, nation or course.

 I really did not leave Miami yet, but rather as I headed out to Argentina on my child's "visiting visit" for half a month, it didn't bode well to keep my flat here if in May I returned just for 10 days.

 The thought is to come back to London "light", without spending fortunes in transoceanic and overweight changes at air terminals as a year prior, when we landed at these shores with the mystery any desire for not crossing the sea again for quite a long while.

 That is the reason the specific thing about this move is the division of products that we are completing with my better half without having separated us. A large number of the articles, plates and books collected amid these years will go to Ecuador, others to Argentina, and will quit meandering heedlessly as their proprietors, trusting that some time they will choose to stop.

 As I said in the presentation, there are many sorts of moving in the life of one (I take 14 ... my better half until the point that she met me had just moved once and now goes for her 6th).

 When I was little I discovered them captivating. There was no preferred concealing spot over the huge wicker container conveyed by the grown-ups to move our furniture, or better development material for my qualities than the library tables, unarmed and helpless before my creative ability.

 Be that as it may, throughout the years I comprehended why such a great amount of worry in the elderly. Such huge numbers of recollections put away, so much pointless mark of "delicate, treat deliberately", both disassembled home and new house to be discharged. Not even the pits of my wooden châteaux could keep those progressions under control.

 At 12 years old, the primary division purchased. Despite everything I didn't know every one of the attractions of the house itself, so my mom's close to home fulfillment appeared to be crazy considering that our goal was a significantly littler flat than the past ones.

 My total dismissal of private property happened amid the principal weeks, when my mom did not enable me to put a hand on the dividers all together not to soil or move a household item so as not to scratch the floor. The last swings of the apartment drove all her those two situations cleaner than the salons of a royal residence outside.

 At that point came my own loft, significantly littler than that of my 12 years, yet with key components that right up 'til the present time mean for me the best articulations of individual flexibility: not to make the bed in the morning and to utilize fabric clothes and no paper napkins to eat, dry the dishes and clean the table.

 On April 2, 2000, precisely seven years prior, the mother of the considerable number of expulsions, the main exit of the nation, the intersection of the Atlantic, the landing not to an obscure neighborhood but rather to a totally new city, with its own traditions, their own particular dialect and the names of the lanes that I never learned.

 The entrancing thing about this change was that I couldn't convey furniture, libraries or beds on the plane. For fourteen days, I went just into two or three bags: I was a little garments, a couple of books, some photographs, nothing that measured more than 10 kilos, nothing with legs, no wood or iron.

 Be that as it may, the delicacy does not keep going long. That is maybe one of the considerable riddles of man today, his capacity to wind up plainly overwhelming in a matter of months. Gradually everything amasses, the stereo to tune in to the circles, the light to peruse during the evening, holders to hang garments and the main decorations of the business sectors and fairs we now walk.

 When we need to acknowledge we as of now have our own particular furniture, new artistic creations, racks, organizers, utensils, glasses and dishes that can be suceled - they too - to be in any way wrapped in daily paper later on

 travel.

 When it came time to come to Miami, crossing the Atlantic again with such an overwhelming burden included boxes sent by vessel, organizations in the Old Continent with related organizations in the New, traditions requesting clarifications and auditors soliciting the qualities from the stock ("reason me , Mr. Examiner, that to which you call stock is my life ").

 What's more, now everything begins again ...

 I met individuals who were conceived and kicked the bucket in a similar house. That he was upbeat knowing by heart each edge of his home, each stain on the divider. I never felt like one of them, they never left me either.

 Be that as it may, I should concede that I am as of now tired of putting my entire presence in boxes, of wrapping each uncertainty and each conviction on paper, of leaving worn spots in each office that is behind.

 It will be the years, it will be the family, it will be sentimentality ... or, on the other hand essentially that I never again know what number of changes I have to get to a house.

 Do you know the appropriate response?

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 •             -What is this?

 Remarks Add your remark

 •             1. At 04:45 PM on 11 Apr 2007, happiness composed:

 Indeed, and you have it the day you need to toss the stay.

 •             2. At 06:27 PM on 11 Apr 2007, Guillermo F composed:

 Matias, I'm winning: 16 moves.

 I incorporate expulsions inside the nation and returns.

 I make a division: one thing is the physical development of the packs and another altogether different, it is the part of the development towards another place.

 The previous is monotonous, even horrendous. The second, then again, is an incredible enterprise.

 Knowing is not stalling out in life. It is developing.

 We appear on the scene with nothing and we leave with recollections. Everything else happens.

 That is the reason I like the progressions.

 In spite of the fact that at my age, commonly I would want to have a "corner on the planet", where I can be more quiet (well far from the urban areas, obviously).

 •             3. At 07:16 PM on 11 Apr 2007, Matilde del Carmen Masats composed:

 Hello there Matias? What number of moves does a house, the recollections of the little room, the dividers, the scent of the perils of the room window. Not to have spared the containers of Harods, Gath and Chaves, the worn out changes, to radiate affections to pick up put, the best toy, the companions of the area are antagonized, the neighbors, the traders is each of the a pity. You get accustomed to it, yet it is difficult. Pay floor right. Or, on the other hand HOME? I moved just three times throughout my life, yet when I can experience the place, I recall. A welcome from Argentina of your comrade Matilde.

 •             4. At 07:40 PM on 11 Apr 2007, Catamar composed:

 Sera Matias That with the agnos we quit being Mafalda and we need to be somewhat Susanita? . I have likewise moved commonly more than the normal (15 times add up to in 35 years of life). I feel of interminable obliteration with a crate house on the opposite side of the Atlantic and with a house on this side holding up to have pictures on the dividers and an agreeable couch to peruse. What's more, following six years we are prepared to begin again not with a few bags loaded with horse crap yet with a child by the hand, scholarly titles of vital colleges and some pertinent expert experience and a formula of sustenance Exotic Paradoxically this house, the trasteo, is the house in which I have lived the greater part of my wedded life, it is the house in which my child still rests in a travel bunk yet he can stroll around openly now he gives his initial steps. In this house without agreeable couch, without pictures on the dividers my little family has celebrated and cried the delights and distresses run of the mill of life as a couple. This house is unquestionably our home yet it is not our home yet. In this house I hear the prepare at 9:30 p.m. what's more, I understand that I need to be a Mafalda and today I may want to be Susanita (I as of now have the sovereign, the primary youngster and well I just miss the house).

 •             5. At 10:21 PM on April 11, 2007, Angie G. composed:

 Matias, these contemplations go to my spirit, over the most recent 9 years I have moved 5 times, that in the wake of having originated from my nation (Cuba) as a tyke and lived in New Orleans for just about 30 years. Once in a while I believe that I begrudge the individuals who dependably remain in a similar place with everything that is recognizable, yet in addition these progressions have served me to toss the futile, procure the fundamental, encircle myself with what truly interests me and I like, I have referred to urban communities inside and out not as a vacationer but rather as an occupant, to put it plainly, the progressions are encounters - and you need to live them.

 •             6. At 11:02 PM on 11 Apr 2007, María Alecia Izturriaga composed:

 I read to you and I was enticed to tell my moves yet I got lost, so I chose to go into my life after I exited my mom's home (which implied forgetting two houses in London in only one year). All things considered, I've moved 17 times since I was 17 and went to examine in Caracas.

 Only yesterday, from my third home in Miami in 6 years, I was simply posing those inquiries. Until the point when I will change? At the point when will the genuine home come? I might want to feel that soon, however I have surrendered, I figure my temperament won't permit me. I'm sad I couldn't answer you, yet it gave me help to realize that there are others in my circumstance. As they would state in Venezuela: wickedness of numerous, comfort of dolts.

 •             7. At 05:49 AM on 12 Apr 2007, Viviana Bursuk composed:

 Dear essayist, in all actuality I don't have an answer however perusing your story pulled in me to revealing to you that you are not the only one in that profession, since I was conceived and I lost the how frequently I moved, for various life circumstances. word that you compose I came straightforwardly in light of the fact that finally and now at my 45 years with my better half we purchased a house just 3 months back, and my girls is the first occasion when I instruct them to do what they need and to reveal to us that shading they need their rooms, their draperies and put where.

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