#I don’t know I just see the two having a relationship where Heron is constantly trying to shape Gandra into a spy villain like her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

early2000smovieimagines · 4 years

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Meeting and Dating Cady Heron

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You obviously met Cady when she moved to town and started going to your school. You weren’t in any of her classes so you didn’t know about her until lunch time came around and a new red head bobbed it’s way through the crowd.

- You watched with pity as she searched the intimidating landscape before your eyes locked. Ever the empath, you kept her gaze and gave a small smile as she somewhat timidly approached. And thus, you became Cadys first American friend.

-While it may not be the greatest thing to go through, at the end of the day I think the whole plastic situation has to happen to Cady, except this time, what's really spurring her on is the fact that Regina George bullied you.

- Truth be told, it all started out as good fun between Cady, Janis, Damien, and subsequently you; but then Cady saw how Regina treated you and it became personal.

- Cady was starting to realize she had a serious thing for you; something she never expected since she hadn’t ever thought of herself as dating a girl, so seeing you getting insulted and pushed around made her really commit to her plan. She was going to destroy Regina and the rest of the plastics, and she was gonna do it for you.

- Except, things don’t always go as planned, do they? No, Cady got carried away, and in her efforts to help and avenge you, she only hurt you in the process.

- Somewhere in the middle of her plans, she’d nervously word vomited and told you about her feelings and to her surprise you’d accepted them happily. The two of you became a secret item and that only made her feel the need to work even harder at her revenge plot.

- Well, you know how the rest of the story goes, she starts blowing you off constantly, “has to” talk bad about you to the other plastics, and gets completely lost in her efforts.

- See, she’d ignore you all day and then she’d show up late at your house acting like a, well, …a plastic. It was one of those nights when your relationship took a turn for the worse.

- She’d told you earlier that day that she couldn’t hang out with you, but then she’d arrived at your house at eleven o’clock when your parents were out on a date, prancing around in her tight dress and pretending like everything was completely normal.

- You’d went to your room and she’d immediately started to blatantly come onto you. You, still a little upset at her recent behavior, gently pushed her from you and asked what had gotten into her.

- Under other circumstances, you probably wouldn’t have minded the visit or the propositioning. You probably could have even forgotten about your bruised feelings as well, but then she’d asked “what was wrong with you”, tried to kiss you again, and things escalated from there.

- Insults were thrown, accusations were made, and you threw her out of your house before collapsing against your front door in a fit of hot angry tears. It wasn’t long before your new friends; Janis and Damien, could also join your anti Cady Heron club.

- Though you knew you still loved her, you couldn’t deny that she hurt you, and if that person you’d encountered was “the new Cady”, you didn’t want anything to do with her.

- When the burn book surfaces, you aren’t surprised to see a page dedicated to you though the insults are everything you’d already heard so it didn’t exactly hurt your feelings. What did surprise you was that Cady took the fall for it.

- You knew it wasn’t true; at least not fully, but who were you to say anything. Your …girlfriend(?) had dug herself a grave that only she could climb her way out of.

- Alas, you weren’t as heartless as you wished you could be and against your will and better judgement, you found yourself driving to her house after your bullying assembly and asking her if you could talk.

- The two of you spent the next hour talking things out and eventually making up, with her apologizing profusely the entire time. It was easy to se that she felt horrible which made forgiving her just as easy.

- And so, the two of you are back together again and this time it’s for the better in a much nicer high school environment.

- You have a lot of pda in your relationship but it’s rarely things that can be interpreted as being too romantic considering it’s the early 2000s and we know that at that high school, being gay wasn’t good.

- Handholding.

- Long hugs.

- Slow, soft kisses.

- Cheek kisses.

- She loves cuddling. She likes hugging you while resting her head on your chest.

- Inside jokes.

- Teasing each other.

- You know those scenes in movies where couples are play fighting, like slapping each others hands after one steals a fry then proceeding to laugh with each other before kissing? That’s the two of you constantly.

- Wearing her Mathletes jacket.

- Going to all her tournaments.

- She’s got a good memory when it comes to you, she’ll never forget your birthday, anniversary, or any other important things to you.

- Gifts, except this time they aren’t to sabotage your life.

- Teaching her about pop culture and high school life.

- Seeing her adorable excited reactions to recognizing American things: songs, references, etc.

- Getting to hear her stories about living in Africa.

- African terms of endearment. Bokkie, choty goty, poepolletjie, poplap, etc.

- Letting her rant to you. She just can’t shut up when she’s angry.

- She overthinks things when she’s nervous so you try your best to calm her down. She does the same for you whenever you get overwhelmed and worked up.

- She’s really good at comforting you and does so the minute she thinks you look sad or she can tell that somethings hurt you.

- The girlfriend that pulls your skirt/shirt down or brushes your hair back for you when you don’t notice you’re about to be exposed or dip it in something.

- She still has Plastic tendencies so occasionally you’ll catch her saying “love ya” and blowing kisses.

- Going to the mall. You’ll usually drop in and say hi to Janis and Damien.

- Being Damien's wing women and eventually going on double dates with him.

- Study dates.

- Going to the movies together.

- Bowling and roller skating dates.

- Zoo dates.

- Using that walker brothers pancake house gift certificate.

- She isn’t really afraid of potentially making a fool of herself so she’s game to do all the things society deems as “lame” with you.

- Family dinners at her house.

- Her parents are supportive so you’re guaranteed at least one pair of adults who are happy to see you two together.

- Her mother makes the two of you matching bracelets.

- She’s a very jealous girl. Cady hasn’t ever really liked anyone before, she’s also never had a partner before, so seeing you with other boys or girls makes her feel this red hot sort of prickling anger. She plays it cool; knowing she can’t just attack them, but when you’re back at her side, she tries to keep your attention focused solely on her.

- Cady isn’t offensively protective, rather than go after the other person, she hangs back and makes sure you’re okay. She’ll always be at your side, comforting you, shielding you from view and glaring at whoever hurt you. With that being said, she might occasionally have to handle things as though she were in the animal kingdom.

- Making sure people don’t take advantage of her naivety towards American life.

- She word vomits when she's angry so while you don’t fight very often, when you do, she may accidentally say something she doesn’t mean or just let out a mouthful of a rant. One of you will either apologize right then and there or you’ll give each other the silent treatment.

- She’s usually the first one to crack after you’ve had a fight, she just can’t stand you being upset with her. She always gives a genuine apology and asks if things are alright between the two of you; smiling and giving you a hug when you tell her that they are.

- She’s not afraid to tell you she loves you, in fact, she loves saying it. She says it just about every time you say goodbye, and when she’s really happy, and when she just feels the need to.

- In the animal kingdom, few animals mate for life. She hopes that the two of you are among those few.

#mean girls imagine #mean girls headcanons #mean girls imagines #mean girls headcanon #early 2000s movie imagine #cady heron imagine #cady heron headcanons #cady heron headcanon #cady heron imagines

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perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare · 4 years

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So I’ve mentioned the Garden Au in my last two drawings and I feel as though I should expand.

So here’s a character list!

Roman — Monarch Butterfly:

Born in a researches back yard as a tiny green larva. Never knew his mother.

Met Remus an hour after he hatched and because neither of them know their moms, decided they were brothers.

Gathers milkweed for the local monarch community.

Has always dreamed of traveling but can’t leave the garden/won’t leave his brother

The himboest of himbos, has flown into multiple windows

His flock was an experiment on chrysalis and the habits of monarchs

The only one actually supposed to be in the garden

Remus — Ringed octopus

Now you may be wondering, what’s an octopus doing in someone’s backyard? And why isn’t he the same species as Roman?

Because an octopus somehow being in a backyard pond where it definitely isn’t supposed to be radiates Remus energy that’s why

The researcher had brought in an octopus without realizing that she had a baby.

Baby fell out of the tank and into the backyard pond.

When he woke up he started crying, which is when Larva Roman found him.

When Roman went into Crysalis, Remus was alone for months. He ended up becoming friends with some other creatures who Roman definitely doesn’t approve of.

Virgil — Southern Black Widow Spider

One of Remus’ “dangerous” friends

Roman doesn’t approve because spiders eat bugs! Including butterflies!

Virgil won’t eat butterflies because “bright color = poison”.

It’s not until they realize that they aren’t going to kill each other that they become friends

Met Remus after he fell out of his web into the pond and Remus saved him from drowning

Has no other family so he’s very protective

Remus likes watching him web up flies

Incredibly territorial. Mainly because the other spiders are v destructive

Can you tell I don’t like spiders

Janus — Rainbow Boa Constrictor

So you know how a bunch of Boas ended up in Florida because they kept being dumped in the Everglades after people didn’t want them anymore? Janus is one of those snakes.

Doesn’t like humans after the last one dumped him in front of an alligator

Bonded with Remus immediately because neither of them are where they are supposed to be

Almost ate Virgil out of desperation until he noticed that Virgil is very very venomous.

Their relationship is symbiotic. Virgil helps catch mice and crickets. Janus offers protection.

Finds Remus’ “brother” to be annoying and too colorful. Tolerates him at most

But he has an eye out for a particular slimy critter (maybe two slimy critters)

Patton — Green Tree Frog

This is Janus’ and Remus’ crush. He’s amphibious so best of both worlds!

Acts as a messenger for the backyard critters, warning them of danger and updating them with news.

His staff is a stick with a crystal on top. The crystal seems to have some kind of power. After all, a frog can’t possibly be that fast right?

Has known the brothers since childhood. Baby Remus met him when he was just a lil tadpole. Remus was happy to have a swimming buddy that wasn’t scared of him.

Roman was just happy to have a friend that wasn’t totally insane.

Has many many many siblings. They are also messengers.

They are constantly on the lookout for a certain foe

Logan — Great Blue Heron

That’s right, Logan is the antagonist

Owned and trained by the researcher

Keeps test animals inside and backyard animals outside.

Also keeps an eye out for critters that aren’t supposed to be in the yard

Aka Remus and Janus

Widely disliked by the ecosystem

I was going to make him a raven but there are none in Florida so the more you know

Remus’ competitor as he often fishes in the pond

Asexual and Aromantic

Never knew his family or any other animals so he doesn’t understand feelings or empathy. Ended up numb to his own emotions.

Disliked and distrusted by everyone because of who he works for

Don’t worry he gets redeemed

The Researcher

Primary Villian

Owns a massive house with a massive backyard.

Has dedicated his life to researching animals

Started innocently enough but he ended up losing something he loved and then turned to insanity

His work went from research to experiments as he was determined to discover everything there is to know about Floridian animals

His experiments are downright cruel and disturbing but he is good at keeping it secret from his assistant

The Garden creatures (which I’m now calling the Gardeners) don’t trust him and are terrified of him, but most of them were born there and can’t exactly leave due to a certain Heron.

Roman can’t leave bc he’s part of an experiment, Remus won’t leave his brother, Janus has no other home, Patton was born there, and Virgil has no other family

Older fellow so he hired an assistant to take care of his garden

Thomas — the assistant/gardener

Kind man, adores all creatures wholeheartedly.

Works part time for the Researcher and takes care of his creatures and his garden

Doesn’t realize how real and human these creatures are

Basically, humans see them as animals, but the animals see each other like people

Remember Patton’s crystal?

Thomas finds it and ends up becoming the kids from “Grounded”.

Aka, shrunk down to the size of an ant

That’s my plot line and I’m sticking to it

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #prinxiety #remus sanders #thomas sanders #janus sanders #intruality #Dukeceit #Moceit #PaJaMus #garden au #Sanders sides au #moceitmus

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the-iron-orchid · 3 years

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Anjali: Jinana’s Familiar

Got hold of this meme and decided to just fill it out in a post of my own instead of going for ask prompts or cluttering up the rebagel train...

General Questions

1. What is their name, pronouns, and species?

Anjali - she/her - Sand Lynx (Catclaw Desert variety)

2. Describe their appearance!

Anjali is large even for a sand lynx, over two feet high at the shoulder and weighing well over 60 pounds. Like all of her kind, she has a pale coat with faint lilac-grey spotting that helps her blend into the gypsum sands of the Catclaw Desert. The color shades into a darker lilac-grey around her lower legs and paws, the end of her tufted tail, and her ears. She has long black ear-tufts and dark markings on her face and muzzle. Her nose and paw pads are black, and her eyes are a pale blue with rounded pupils.

3. What is their personality like? How are they around strangers vs. people they know?

Anjali is suspicious of strangers, and will place her own body between them and Jinana, hissing quietly if they get too close for her comfort. (Like a caracal, she will hiss at anything she dislikes the tiniest bit.) With people she knows, she is a shameless beggar for food and attention. With people she adores, she acts like a daft kitten, despite being the size of a large dog, and will throw herself to the ground and roll around at their feet (’social rolling’).

4. What are their magical abilities?

Once per day, Anjali can use an ability that functions as a Jump spell for one round. This triples her already-impressive jumping ability for a single bound that can cross 75+ feet of horizontal distance, or 36 feet vertically. Imagine this creature just... appearing on the roof of a three-story building... terrifying.

5. What’s their goofiest quirk?

Anjali is fully capable of using a doorknob, standing up on her back legs and using her paw pads to get traction. The quirk, however, is that she always closes the door behind her. 😆

6. What snack will always get their attention?

Cheese. She adores any kind of cheese, but the stinkier the better. She won’t (intentionally) knock you over to get the cheese in your hand... but almost.

7. Do they have a pet peeve? (pun intended)

Anjali does not like to have her ear tufts played with... but it’s so hard to resist...

8. What’s their most special skill?

Sand Lynxes are known for their jumping ability, and Anjali is no exception. She can leap up to 12 feet vertically (an ability shared by real-life caracals and lynxes) and catch birds on the wing.

9. How energetic are they?

Like most felines, Anjali spends a lot of time sleeping. But when she is awake, she is a ball of energy and needs some time each day playing, running, and jumping.

10. Do they enjoy attention or are they more of a loner?

Anjali loves attention and will actively demand it if she feels she isn’t getting enough. She will bump with her head, smack with her tail, pat a person with one of her paws or even lightly chomp a limb to get attention.

11. What’s their level of mischief like?

Relatively high. She is endlessly curious and forever poking into things to investigate them. Like all cats, she enjoys knocking things over and getting into high places.

12. What’s their favorite way to let off steam?

She actually loves to play fetch! She also loves to try and catch an airborne toy in mid-air (but it has to be thrown like... really high), and to play tag.

13. What were they like as a baby? Did your OC know them back then?

Originally, Jinana discovered Anjali as a lost, hungry kitten at an oasis in the Catclaw Desert, not terribly far from Nopal. S/he hand-reared the sand lynx, who bonded with hir over time. Anjali was pretty much like any other kitten, except larger!

14. What song would you use to describe them?

"Jump” by Van Halen 🤣🤣🤣

15. 3 emojis that sum them up?

😼🍖😻

16. Most likely to…?

Shove herself into bed between Jinana and anyone else who might be there, where she will then sleep belly-up with her legs in the air.

17. What’s the most unique thing about them/makes them stand out?

Anjali is capable of running small errands at the Market, wearing a set of saddlebags with a pocket for coin and a note from Jinana. The merchants aren’t sure if she can count... but they’re not about try and cheat her! (Don’t send her to pick up meat or cheese though... most of it won’t make it home...)

OC Relationship Questions

18. How did they meet your OC?

Having lost or become separated from her mother and littermates, Anjali was discovered at an oasis in the Catclaw Desert, starving. Jinana coaxed her into eating and drinking, bringing her back to Vesuvia with hir and raising her to adulthood, magically bonding with her in the process.

19. What is their relationship with your OC like?

Anjali adores and is very protective of Jinana. She would go everywhere with hir if allowed to... so long as it isn’t raining. ;P All the same, she can be kind of judgmental (like all cats) and has strong Opinions on things.

20. If your OC lost their memories, do/did they remember their familiar? If no, do they now and how did the reunion go?

In the Apprentice continuity, Jinana did not recall Anjali, nor vice-versa. Because of the way that mage and familiar are bound, bringing Jinana back to life brought Anjali back as well, her spirit arriving in the body of a newborn kitten. (Asra suspected but could not confirm this.) She is three years old and has had litters of her own by the time that Jinana finds her again. In the interim, they regularly dream of each other, but neither of them know why until Jinana gains the knowledge of hir own death and resurrection.

21. How do they feel about other people in your OC’s life?

Anjali likes Asra, but was slightly jealous of him in Jinana’s previous life. She adores Heron. She likes Julian because Jinana likes him, but also enjoys making him nervous. (“I think she wants to eat my face.”) Portia’s delight in meeting a cat so large charms Anjali in turn. Inanna, being one of the few familiars around that is larger than Anjali herself, gets particular respect.

22. What’s your OC’s favorite thing about them?

EAR TUFTS GO FWIP FWIP FWIP (only Jinana is allowed to play with them!)

Also Anjali will sit up on her back legs and ‘dance’ with Jinana when s/he is practicing, it’s adorable.

23. What’s their favorite thing about your OC?

HUMAN NAILS (they give scritches)

24. What’s one thing they do for your OC that no one else can?

Anjali can sense when Jinana is feeling disconnected or having intrusive thoughts, and will come and sit with/on hir or even just flop on hir to squish hir soul back into hir body, so to speak.

25. How often are they with your OC?

More or less constantly, outside of times she is sent on an errand, or stays at home because a) it’s raining or b) Jinana is going somewhere that a 60+ pound cat-thing is probably not welcome.

26. How easy is it for them to get away with things with your OC? Vice versa?

In non-Apprentice timelines, Anjali sees Jinana as a parent figure, and while she might have Opinions, she generally defers to hir and doesn’t act out much.

In the Apprentice timeline, however, having raised two litters in the wild, Anjali sees Jinana as her charge, and won’t let hir get away with things like not eating or resting enough. It’s going to take some time to re-establish a balance in their relationship.

27. Which Disney character-animal sidekick duo is their relationship most like?

...I don’t have enough background in Disney to be able to pick one. Open to suggestions, though!

Creator Questions

28. What was your inspiration for this familiar?

Real-life caracals and lynxes, but bigger and adapted for true desert life. Sort of a Big Floppa of the desert. 😂

29. Why did you choose them for your OC?

I considered a bug familiar, which would have been on-brand, but it’s also very on-brand for Jinana to have rescued this ‘poor kitten’ which grows up to be a big horrible sand lynx that follows hir everywhere.

Heron: “Jinana, that is a sand lynx. It’s going to get almost as big as you are.” (Jinana did not care.)

30. What’s your favorite trait or bit of lore pertaining to them?

Anjali has a strong maternal instinct and will attempt to raise any small animal that comes into the household... including Julian’s wrinkly little puppy. He probably freaks out the first time he sees her carrying the puppy in her mouth (having just rescued the critter from its own curiosity).

31. If you were to meet this familiar irl, how would you react?

By herself? Terrified lmao

In the company of her person? Fascinated and dying to peT THE LORGE KITTY

32. What would your familiar be? Why?

A housecat. Because that’s just how it be. 😸

#anjali the familiar

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

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heart of stone (3/?)

AO3

It’s an hour before Damian leaves. An hour of him hugging her and stroking her hair and her telling him everything she can. They try to spend some time normally, watching vine compilations on Janis’ phone, only it doesn’t feel right. Their laughter is forced and accompanied by a pit in Janis’ stomach, the hard reality staring them in the face. After one video she puts her phone away and Damian holds her tighter, resting his cheek on her head and lacing their fingers together. She lets herself sag against him, revelling in the comfort he gives her even if it can’t make this better. She bites the inside of her cheek as she wonders when the next time they hug like this will be or where they’ll be when it happens.

It’s going to be a long few months.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asks him as they stand at her front door. “With all this?” When his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s when she truly feels the weight of it and it drags her down hard. She’s only seen that expression on his face a grand total of three times, two of which related to unpleasant memories of his father. And now once more, because of her. She bites back an apology.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he replies half-heartedly before shaking his head. “Who am I kidding? Of course you’re going to be okay. You’re Janis.”

“I am?” she replies, smirking just a little.

“Yeah.” The crack in his voice doesn’t escape her notice. He play-punches her arm. “This cancer’s going to have a tough time trying to beat you.”

“If God wants me gone he’s going to have to come down here himself,” she jokes. Only it doesn’t land with him. His eyes widen, his hand around her wrist in a grip that’s sudden and panicked. It’s an old joke spoken in a new world and she realises that too late. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t-” She grabs his tense shoulder, unsure of what else to do, and tries to be as reassuring as possible. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay, they’ve said I will.”

“I know.” He hugs her once again, crushing her in her grip and stroking her hair, his heartbeat fast against her chest. She wraps her arms around him, cursing at herself.

“Maybe the dark humour will take a backseat for now,” she whispers. He laughs at that at least, even if it’s short lived. He steps away from her just as his mom pulls up outside of her house, beeping her little car horn.

“My mom,” he says, looking from the car to her. “When do I tell her?”

“Whenever you want,” she replies, shrugging. “Not like we’re keeping it a secret.”

“Okay.” He pats her cheek clumsily as she opens the door. Before leaving, he takes one long look back at her, sadness clouding his eyes. She doesn’t let him know that she hates it. “You owe me a calzone when this is all over, Sarkisian.”

“It’s a date,” she jokes, her breath catching in her throat. Through the window in the door, she watches him run across the road, holding up shirt up over his head as the sky starts spitting, and climb into the passenger seat of his mom’s car. Her vision blurs as the car pulls away, her cheeks hot and her jaw clenched.

She doesn’t bother to hide it when she walks into the kitchen. She’s too tired and even if she wasn’t, what’s the point in it?

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom sighs, rushing up to her and pushing her hair out of her eyes. She rubs a hand up and down her arm, her lips rolled into a thin line. “How did he take it?”

“Fine,” she says. “I mean, not fine. But he’s… It’s a lot for him. But he didn’t storm out of the house or accuse me of lying or something messed up like that so I guess…” She trails off, the sentence running away from her. Is there a good way to take news like this? If there is, it would have been nice for her to know yesterday.

“Why don’t I make you something?” her mom asks again. “You want some coffee? Tea? Or one of those little mug-cakes you like so much?”

“I can make it myself,” she tells her, already tempted. She breaks out of her mom’s grasp and starts pulling stuff out the cupboards, the recipe crystal clear in her mind. She turns around, equal parts amused and annoyed at her mom hovering behind her. “I’m not going to burn myself on the microwave, Mom.”

“I know. Just, well, maybe you should be sitting down?”

“I can do it myself,” she repeats, despite her tired legs. She looks over at her again, annoyance beginning to win out. She spoons flour into her mug, white smoke puffing up before her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Besides I’m the only one who knows how to make them.”

They were Cady’s idea. Over the winter break last year, before it all truly went wrong, she had called Janis about this new recipe she stumbled upon on Pinterest, babbling excitedly about ‘little tiny cakes in mugs, how cute is that, Janis?’. She invited Janis over, insisting on testing out as many different recipes as her microwave would allow. There was something about the sight of Cady with a white handprint on her skirt and flour dusted across her nose like snowflakes that did certain things to Janis’ heart. She can’t be sure, but that might just have been the day she began seeing Cady in a new light and daring to imagine them as something other than friends.

The memory now only makes her heart clench. There are few things Janis loves in the world more than Cady Heron’s smile and nothing hurts her heart like when she’s sad. When her lips touched hers for the first time, she swore she’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s going to be breaking that promise tomorrow, even if it’s through no fault of her own.

She goes up to her room with a mumbled goodnight to her parents and an unexpected, quick hug from her dad. Maybe she should start expecting them, she thinks sadly as she trudges upstairs, one hand around her mug and the other gripping the bannister.

She curls up on her bed, too tired to sit up but too jittery to try to sleep. Besides, the sky is still orange out there and she refuses to go to sleep before the sun does. Despite herself, she feels strangely proud. Cancer or no, her sleep schedule is hers, at least to some extent.

She pulls her laptop over, squinting in its blue light, and opens Tumblr for a while, scrolling through likes and reblogs without any of it registering. She bounces through social media with twitching fingers, closing tabs not five minutes after opening them. Facebook is the worst; little green dots lined up at the side of her screen, each one able to contact her with the press of a key. The last thing she wants right now is a conversation. So she opens Twitter instead and lets the friends be mixed in with the strangers. She’s hidden as long as she doesn’t say anything and she has genuinely no intention to. No likes, no retweets, nothing but a stream of content she can half-focus on in a bid to forget herself.

It works, at least for a while, three jokes or art pieces for every “real person” who crosses her timeline. But her eyes are constantly drawn up to the searchbar against her will and when a post of Cady’s crosses her path, her eyes linger for longer than they should.

“Fuck it,” she mutters, typing her handle into the searchbar and tapping her nail against the mouspad. She’s not as strong as she looks, and recently she’s discovered that she’s really not that strong when it comes to her girlfriend.

Cady’s profile loads up on the screen, her profile picture of her hugging a lion at least putting a smile on her face. Cady rarely uses this, having only gotten it at Regina’s request and preferring to use platforms like Instagram, uncomfortable with Twitter’s character limit. 280 characters is barely enough to capture those beautiful thoughts of hers. But Janis scrolls through them anyway, not quite having realised how much she missed her until now, missed how she talks and thinks and the feel of her hand against hers. Scrolling through her Twitter is a poor substitute for having the real thing.

There’s a post from five days ago, of the two of them sitting in Cady’s backyard, her chin on Janis’ shoulder and Janis’ hand covering hers, the remains of ice cream around Cady’s chin. Cady’s mom had taken that on her daughter’s phone, the two of them lounging in Cady’s garden after she had been showing Janis her peonies.

Janis is almost taken aback by how she looks. She knows how she felt, exceedingly happy, dangerously close to in love and a little intoxicated, but also exhausted. Even though everything felt perfect and all she could ever want, in the back of her mind she was thinking about going home and collapsing into bed. Her skin crawls as she knows why she felt like that. The girl in the photo with the sparkling eyes and beaming smile has cancer. Her body was-is- falling apart bit by bit and she was none the wiser, enjoying summer sunshine and thinking about nothing other than how much she adores her girlfriend. How would she react if she knew that in a few short days, her life would be ruined?

She curses as she wipes away a tear. Hasn’t she cried enough for today?

She opens up a search engine, fear building in her chest, the hair on her arms standing up despite the warm air. She sits and watches the blinking cursor, the only sound in the room being the soft whirring of the laptop and her heavy, deep breathing. She doesn’t want to know, not at all. Knowing will only make it worse. She should just turn this thing off and toss it away before she does something she regrets. That’s what reason says.

She doesn’t listen to reason. Instead she listens to the one part of her brain that won’t shut up.

She types effects of cancer on relationships into the searchbar and closes her eyes tightly. If she can’t see the results, they don’t exist, right?

A high school senior using middle school logic. What’s become of her?

She clinks on the first link, squirming at the images that load in pieces on her screen. Hands clasped over a wooden table, two people looking into each other’s eyes with sincerity and sadness on their features. She’s never been good with emotions like that. Which is why she pushes them away, she supposes. Even the idea of sitting down carefully and Having A Conversation in hushed voices about such delicate, difficult subjects makes her want to vomit. Today was hard enough. Her parents are just lucky she loves them too much to do that.

She scrolls past sections about family and friends until the word ‘partner’ catches her eye and she stops. According to the article “cancer can be a difficult thing for couples to face” (yeah no shit). Little Miss Psychology who wrote the thing goes on to explain that “this can manifest in changing roles in the relationship” which again, no shit. The more she reads the article, the more she feels her time being wasted. There’s nothing she couldn’t already guess and most of it is for married couples with kids. Who’s going to take the kids to school, who’s going to pay the bills, who’s going to make dinner? Nothing that concerns her, nor should it for a long time.

She reads that cancer has a negative effect on their sex lives, and actually laughs. Sex was the last thing on her mind.

Then, near the bottom, it shifts from the practical to the emotional. Miss Psych explains that cancer can often cause “an inability to do leisure activities” and while that should have been obvious to Janis, it screws with her more than a little. Sure, she and Cady have quiet time in one of their rooms, but it’s always balanced by doing something else, trips to the mall or the movies, or going down to the zoo to see Cady’s beloved lions or the museum so Cady can watch Janis get lost in the art world. It’s the being with each other that makes it special, but going out like this keeps everything interesting for both of them. What do they become when that disappears?

With a shuddering breath, she pushes on, reading about how miscommunication can happen in relationships when this happens. Cady trying to keep positive could become dismissals in Janis’ eyes, or Janis keeping a mask up for Cady only leading to them stopping talking. And miscommunication is always the first step, according to Damian. Out of his three relationships two ended because they stopped communication.

And finally, “cancer can be a destabilising force for most relationships”. It’s one of the first things she sees and it’s the last thing she needs to see. There’s a lot she loves about her life now, or at least her life post-Spring Fling, and one of those is how solid it is. Steady friendships, or semi-steady in some cases, and a comfortable romance with Cady. For the first time in a long, long while she was happy without even trying to be.

She closes her eyes and turns onto her side, pressing her hand to her stomach. What must it look like in there now? According to the doctor, her body is producing more white blood cells and they can’t function and then something about her organs. While she should know better, the image of her blood turning white attacks her mind, something like white paint spreading through her veins and attacking her organs, turning them pale and hard and frozen. Maybe once it was done with her body it would bleed through her skin and show on the surface. Her body could become a statue from the inside out. Maybe if she stabbed herself right now, she’d bleed cold and white instead of red.

She shoots up, shaking the image from her head. Her heart is unsettled in her chest but she takes comfort in it, wild and erratic and alive. She pushes all thoughts of what’s happening to her out of her head, trying to replace them with anything else.

Unfortunately for her, the only anything else she can think of is Cady. Her only two options are her debilitating body or her debilitating love life.

Well, it’s not debilitating. Not really. Not yet anyway. Well, except for the fact that she hasn’t texted Cady back in two days. She’s not left her on read, but she’s no doubt left her worried. She’s always worrying, her Cady. Worrying that there’s enough food for everyone or that everyone at her place is having a good time or that her two friend groups will get along.

What will this do to her?

She opens her laptop again, fully aware of how destructive she’s being. But her mind won’t rest and checking the internet is just as good a plan as any. The article is still there when she opens it, the white light making her head hurt. Her stomach hurts more and more as she looks through the web and she’s sure it’s not because of the illness or the hastily-made mug cake.

“Cancer can be incredibly straining on the patient’s relationships,” the article tells her. “Often the patient will find it difficult to be a supportive and loving partner with the toll the illness takes on them.”

That’s the part that really sends her flying. The phone falls from her weak hands as anxiety takes over her body, making her hands shake and her chest tighten. She pushes the laptop away and pulls her legs close to her chest, pressing her forehead into her knees as she counts her breath, in for eight and out for eight.

Dumb as it sounds, she likes being someone’s girlfriend. She likes making people, particularly people she cares about, feel happy and warm and loved. It makes her feel worth something. Despite the front she presents to the world, she cares. She cares for fuck’s sake.

Cady deserves a girlfriend who supports her. One who is devoted to her and makes her life easier. Cady went through a lot last year, she wasn’t innocent in it at all, but she went through a lot. So many times she’s told Janis she’s excited to go back to school this year and just be normal. To study with her and walk to school with her and be her prom date.

‘Last year was like a shark tank,’ she had explained to her as they sat in the park, her head in Janis’ lap. ‘Next year I just want to float.’

The sharks might be gone, but Janis is bringing a whole tsunami.

It isn’t fair. None of it is, her parents have told her as much, but now it’s really not fair. Not to her and not to Cady. After a less than great first year, she deserves a better chance at real school life. She should have a girlfriend escorting her to prom, an old fashioned date-on-your-arm type of affair. They should dance under a glitter ball together while Janis whispers words of affection into her ears.

And then there’s the school side of school. Cady has so many college plans, big and lofty ones that require months and months of work. What will Janis be then? A distraction? Or worse, a burden. She’d never dream of demanding anything from her, but what if she can’t help it? Or if she doesn’t need to because Cady focuses on her anyway? What if she’s the reason Cady doesn’t make it? Her job as Cady’s girlfriend is to be her support system, her rock. If she can’t do that then what’s the point in them being together? Why should she have a girlfriend if she can’t give her everything every day?

It’s only when she finds her toy kitten twisted and wrung in her hands that she realises she’s spiralling.

“Breathe,” she whispers to herself. “Come on, breathe.”

Her mind clears as her heart slows down. Her worries don’t go away, but she can see them more precisely than before. She leans her head back against the wall, letting the air rush out of her. There is a solution to her problem, but it’s not one she likes. She guesses what she wants went out the window when her blood started acting like a dick.

After all, the best way not to hurt Cady with this is to just not be her girlfriend, right?

“You’re a moron,” she sighs, shaking her head. She stretches her arms and starts tugging on her pyjamas, tiredness taking over and dragging her eyelids down. She shuts off her laptop, avoiding even a glimpse at the article, and shoves it under her bed. In the quiet of her dark room, she can hear her parents murmuring downstairs and wonders, probably with good reason, if they’re talking about her. They talk about her a lot more than they used to. Years ago, Janis lay in this same bed listening to the same thing; anxious, inaudible conversations about her between people who thought she was asleep. Only thing is now, it hurts more. Guilt only gets worse with age. She drifts off slowly, her stuffed cat pressed into her chest, one thought coming together in her hazy mind.

She’s already hurt the three most important people with this. Can she really hurt Cady too?

*****

Her room is still dark when she jolts awake. Her eyes sting and she blinks heavily out of tiredness as well as getting used to the darkness. She knows why she’s awake before she even looks down or can feel anything. There’s only one reason she’d have woken up this early.

She switches on the light and finds her legs covered in sweat, small dark splotches on the sheets. Her top clings to her stomach and her hair to her neck, a feeling that’s uncomfortably and frustratingly familiar.

Her clock reads 4:30am. Groaning, she kicks her covers off and stumbles to the bathroom, rubbing at her bleary eyes.

Avoiding her reflection, she holds a cold cloth against her skin, her damp shirt handing over the edge of the bathtub. She can’t help asking herself, what if she had noticed this before? What if she had brought it up to her parents? She had just shrugged it off as nothing before. If she hadn’t, would they have caught it in time? Maybe this would be over sooner, maybe it would have been over already. If she had just paid more attention, she might be happy now.

She makes eye contact with her reflection, and the words ‘stupid girl’ ghost across her mind like the other her had whispered them.

“New level of self-deprecation,” she mutters, running the cloth under the cold faucet. “Blame yourself for… this.”

She settles herself in the bathtub and presses the cloth into her stomach and another to her neck, debating with herself if she should go get some ice from the kitchen. Ever the drama queen. She rubs at her heavy eyes, thankful that she has no plans for tomorrow. All her plans are cancelled for the foreseeable future, but at least there’s the silver lining of letting her sleep for longer. Karen must be rubbing off on her if she’s looking for the good parts now.

She’s almost nodding off in the bathroom, until the door open and her dad calls her name, shocking her awake and nearly giving her a heart attack on top of everything else.

“Dad!” she whispers sharply, stumbling out of the bathroom. Her dad’s eyebrows are shot up his forehead, his mouth hanging open a little as he looks at her with more alertness than she reckons he had a minute ago. He looks from the cloth in her hand to her damp shirt, confusion etched onto his features. “Dad I was just… I started sweating. I just needed to sponge off.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you… do you need any-”

“It’s fine.” She drops the cloth in the sink and moves to brush past him. “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Woah, woah, Janis,” he says, his fingers curling around her arm and his other hand on her chest. She stops where she is, avoiding his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head. “No I’m okay. I just need to go back to bed.” Her dad nods and brushes her sticky hair away from her face.

“How long as this been going on?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “A few weeks, I think. It’s not every night. I think it’s a side effect of the… of you know…”

“Ah,” is all he says. There’s an air of discomfort neither of them can brush off.

“I’m fine, really,” she says, pulling his hand off her as gently as she can. She dares look up at his face for a minute, the two of them feigning composure of the other. “I’m done. You can use it.”

“Do you need anything?” he asks again. “New clothes, some water?”

She shakes her head, even though her throat is painfully dry.

“I can get new PJs in my room,” she tells him instead. “Good night, Dad.”

“Bonne nuit, petite fille,” he whispers in his native French. Although it’s short-lived, she manages a smile.

Back in her room, she pulls off her shorts and tosses them away. She may well run out of pyjama shorts thanks to this. After a second’s thought, she tosses her t-shirt away too and pulls on another one that’s a little too big for her. As she slides into her bed, she wishes her dad hadn’t mentioned water. Even though her throat cracks and she holds back dry coughs, she won’t ask for more than she has.

When she’s half asleep though, her door slowly opens, and when she wakes more minutes later, there’s a full glass on her night stand. It makes her smile, and it lasts longer this time around.

*****

Hours later, she wakes stiff and sore and nowhere near as refreshed as she should be waking this close to noon. As she curls into a ball and presses her face into the pillow, a wave of self-pity crashes into her chest and fills her lungs. Self-pity is probably her least favourite feeling out of all of them. Anger is an old friend and can be righteous and satisfying. She resists sadness more, but at least that can be reflective and healing. What does self-pity do for her? Doesn’t give her an outlet, doesn’t change anything. She just sits there and wallows in it, hating it more and more with each second until the anger wins out and she throws the covers off.

She leaves her phone switched off for as long as she can. She shuns technology entirely except for the TV, looking at the screen blankly with Maxie in her lap. Even her dog seems to know something’s wrong, either with her body or her mind. He presses his head into her stomach and looks up at her, eyes bright and wide and heart-meltingly cute, all the while whimpering quietly, his little paws tickling her stomach. Janis kisses his nose and it makes her feel a little better.

She goes up to her room and starts getting dressed, not wanting to spend the rest of her day in pyjamas. She’ll probably be doing that a lot a few weeks down the line. Possibly a few days down the line, she realises. Her shirt in her hands, she looks over at the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow is circled in red glitter pen and a little skull drawn in the box, ‘senior year’ written in black glitter pen above it. She wrote that weeks ago, end of July or beginning of August, back when it mattered.

The school knows now. Her parents called them up and told her the day after they found out. Janis, against her better judgement, sat against the bannister upstairs and listened in on it. There wasn’t a whole lot to listen to on her end; just a lot of ‘thank you’s and reiterations of what they’d been told in the hospital. What she would have given to have been a fly on the wall on the school’s end though. To hear every word about how sorry they were and the endless support they were offering to Janis and judge how much they meant it. North Shore’s not a bad place, especially since the end of Spring Fling. There are worse schools. But that doesn’t mean she trusts it. Trust is easy to eradicate and hard to win back.

Regardless, they’ll tell everyone tomorrow. They have to. It might be in a special assembly, or during morning announcements. Maybe they’ll take her friends out of class one by one and break the news to them gently. Or just assume they already know. They’d be a quarter right in that case.

Her phone is still dead on her nightstand. She picks it up the way you’d pick up a live grenade and holds it gingerly in both of her hands. Her reflection stretches before her in the screen like a funhouse mirror. She’s not felt quite so afraid of her phone since she was 12, but now she’s not scared of what people would say to her. The opposite really.

She turns it on after an eternity and places it on the floor until it stops buzzing. One message from Damian, asking how she’s feeling and if she wants to hand out, followed by a yellow heart. Three from Cady, one good morning text, one photo of her hamsters and one asking if she’s okay. It’s harsher than anything she’s seen from her before and the worst part is she has a feeling that’s only the beginning. It’s still polite and careful, asking Janis to talk to her “whenever she’s ready”.

That may take a while, Cady.

Her chin rests on her knees, her nails digging into the sides of her legs and her jaw tightly clenched. Her breaths are long and shallow. She’s not exactly a stranger to difficult conversations. Between coming out and telling them about Regina and telling her parents she wants to major in art, she could make a walk of fame of them if she really wanted to. But none were like this. They could all end in good things and they all did. Nothing good could come of this, not for her and certainly not for Cady.

She dials the number slowly, despite having never dialled a number in her life. Like if she takes longer, she’ll get a better idea. Or this will all end if she waits long enough.

Shouldn’t she know better now, she thinks as she presses call.

“Hi!” Cady picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath, like she’d ran to pick it up. She can almost picture her just from the sound of her voice; brown eyes wide, maybe twirling the ends of her hair. Or sitting on her bed, her hand buried in a pillow and feet anxiously tapping the floor. She hates herself and this isn’t even the worst part. “Um, hey, how are you?”

There’s a tiny spark of warmth in Janis’ chest, in amongst all the fear. She’s missed her voice so much.

“Um, yeah,” she replies, aware she’s not actually answering her. “No I’m-I’m good.” As her mouth runs dry, she starts worrying if she is even able to talk right now. Near silence stretches between them, broken only by Cady shifting on the other line and her parents talking below her. As she tries to find something, the idea of just hanging up and throwing out her phone crosses her mind and she can’t quite dismiss it.

“Did you go to your hospital appointment?” she asks, a calm tone taking over her voice. “How was it?”

“Oh,” is all she can muster up. “It was…” Horrible. The worst day of my life. Ruined my life. I wish it had never happened. I haven’t been happy since. “Fine, I guess.”

“So you found out what was wrong?” she asks. The question forms a rope, tightening around her neck.

“Yeah. It’s not important.” Just slightly life-altering. She lets go of her wrist, shaking out of her cold hand. She flexes her fingers, words coming out of her mouth thoughtlessly. “I need-I need to talk to you.”

“Okay. Should I… should I be worried?”

Yes.

“I don’t know,” she replies. She pushes herself to her feet, legs shaking, and pulls her sweater around herself. She bites hard on the inside of her cheek. Her main priority out of this is Cady not hearing her cry. “Caddy…”

She closes her eyes and mouths a silent apology before continuing.

“Caddy, I think we need to take a break.”

Cady stammers on her end, nonsensical, meaningless sounds that do nothing but fill empty space. Janis bites into her fist as tears begin running down her face. It builds up in her chest instead and it aches. Is this heartbreak? Is this what they mean when they say it? She’d always taken it metaphorically. Turns out it’s literal.

“Take a break?” Cady echoes. “Janis I don’t-what do you mean take a break.”

“I mean-” She takes a deep breath, hoping that the sniffle sounds like allergies. “I mean, we’re going into our senior year, Cady. That’s a lot. You’re looking at math college, I’ve got a lot to do for art school, I think it’s best if we-if we just pause it.”

She can’t hold it back. She puts the phone on the bed, the covers blocking any sound and presses her face into a pillow, letting herself cry into the fabric. It’s not much, just enough to let herself breath again. It doesn’t stop hurting or even hurt any less, but she can speak again.

“Janis? Janis are you still there?” Cady asks, muffled by her covers. “Janis?” She picks it up and throws herself off the bed, walking in a continuous circle.

“Yeah I’m here,” she says, her throat raw. “Sorry Maxie was being a dick.” She crosses her fingers behind her back.

“Janis I just want-I just want to understand,” she says. Her own voice shakes a little and it’s a knife against her ear. She’s probably pacing the room, a frown on her lovely face. Janis slaps herself on the cheek like she can slap the image out of her mind. “Janis we can make this work. Loads of people date in senior year-hell, Karen and Gretchen are. Aaron was a senior year-”

“You’re going to use Regina and Aaron as an example of couple goals?” she snorts, an unkind edge in her voice that tastes vile on her tongue. Hurting Cady is more painful than the cancer will ever be, yet a part of her wonders that if she’s a bitch now, this will end faster.

Thankfully, she still has some integrity.

“That’s different,” Cady huffs. “That’s Regina. You and me… we’re you and me.” There’s a long sigh on the other end and Janis can imagine her rubbing her forehead like when she’s debating a math problem. “Janis lots of couples date in senior year. Rachel Hamilton was still with her girlfriend last year. They’re still together now. And I know-I know you’re worried about stuff, I’m worried about stuff, but if we stay together at least we can-”

“Cady!” She jumps at her own voice. She’s never heard herself as sharp as she was just there. Her voice echoes around her and cuts her skin. She lowers herself onto the bed again, her limbs weak. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cady assures her. She doesn’t deserve this level of gentle. Not from her. “It’s okay let’s just talk this out. Maybe we could get Damian-”

“No.”

“You’re right. Bad idea,” she says lightly. “Look Janis, we’re all stressed about senior year. But we don’t need to jump to anything yet, right? We can just take it easy and if it gets too much-”

“It’s already too much,” she replies. She’s not lying. Cady just doesn’t know. “Cady I’m sorry but it’s already too much. I can’t deal with a relationship now. It’s- it’s not you.” Her nails dig into her palm. “There’s just too much happening in my life for a girlfriend now. I mean, I didn’t think it would last as long as it did.”

“You didn’t?” And if pain were a sound, it would be Cady’s voice. Breathless and cracking, the two words shaking. If she had punched her right in the face it would have hurt less than what she just said.

Congratulations, Janis. You just did exactly what you wanted to avoid.

“Not like that,” she whispers pathetically. “Just… I think it’s best for both of us if we end it here.”

“Okay.” There’s a finality in that one word, a line drawn under everything they had these past months. Nothing could have prepared Janis for this. “Okay fine. If that’s what you want, then fine. We can end it here. I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe.”

“Thank you.”

She’s not sure if Cady heard the end of that. The dial tone rings in her ear, loud and unending. She keeps it there because in a weird way it’s like keeping Cady there.

She got what she wanted, didn’t she? After all, why should she be Cady’s girlfriend right now when she can’t be what she needs? This is all for the best, isn’t it? Now Cady can focus on school with minimal distraction and Janis can go through this without dragging more people down with her.

“Fuck that,” she says in a low voice. Her chest rumbles as her breathes suddenly get quicker, her fingers curling inside and out. Fuck that. It’s not what she wanted, not at all. She wanted a senior year with Cady. For her to slap Janis away as she tries to distract her from homework. To greet her with hugs in the mornings and hold hands with her in the afternoon. Her visions fall apart in front of her and roll away, stopping her from building even a daydream to keep her going. Her nails scratch at her scalp as she pulls on her hair, a dull throbbing rising in time with the dial tone’s steady beeping. As she bites down on her cheek, she doesn’t know if she’s imagining the metallic taste in her mouth, if it’s blood or just her own cocktail of anger and shame and grief.

It keeps building inside her, rising like a tidal wave and filling her lungs, her mouth, her ears. Much like the hard conversations, these feelings aren’t new to her, rage and anxiety are long-time companions. Lately she’s started turning to the people around her when she’s feeling like this, heaving learnt the value of a support system, but her parents are busy enough and she can’t face Damian with this and drive a wedge between him and Cady who is incidentally the person she wants to talk to the most but she doesn’t have Cady anymore because she just broke up with her and Cady doesn’t even know why, and all Janis has is that stupid ringing dial tone-

“Oh shut up!” she yells, chucking her phone across the room. It bounces against the wall with an audible ‘thump’ and falls to the floor. At least the ringing stops. She her head hits the mattress, bouncing a little before going still. The ringing from the phone has entered her head instead and has seemingly no intention of leaving no matter how tightly she closes her eyes or how hard she covers her ears. Her nails leave indents on her skin and her fingers tangle in her unbrushed hair.

“Janis?” She doesn’t even hear her door opening above the noise in her head. Her mom hesitates as she enters, unease evident in her hunched shoulders and flitting eyes. “Janis I heard you yelling-”

“I’m fine.” The words are dull and heavy and hold no semblance of truth. She forces herself to look over at her mom. At least her eyes are dry. “I just talked to Cady.”

“Oh, baby,” she sighs sympathetically. The bed sags as she sits down, her hand covering Janis’. “I’m sorry hon. I know that can’t have been easy.” She just nods, a heavy weight pressing into her chest. She doesn’t cry and wonders if she’s used up all her tears in the past two days. Her mom’s hand moves in a small, gentle motion on her shirt; it’s comforting to her and it soothes her frantic mind. So why doesn’t she like it?

“Mom,” she begins. “No offence but I… I just want to be alone.” She can’t miss the sadness in her mom’s eyes no matter how hard she tries. The hand grows slower and lifts from her back. “I’m sorry, just-”

“It’s okay, Jan,” she says, pushing herself up. She stands over her, the picture of the doting mother. “We’re just downstairs if you need anything.”

“Mom.” Janis manages to push herself up by a mere fraction. Her mom halts right where she is, turning around so quickly she should be accompanied by a whooshing sound effect. She also can’t miss how bright her eyes are, ready to attend to whatever Janis needs. “Um… can you pass me my phone? It’s… it’s on the floor there.”

The request is so tiny and not at all suited to her mom’s hyper-focus. Not to mention how weak and pathetic her voice sounds. It doesn’t belong to her body, her towering frame that even cancer can’t take away from her. Her mom nods, smile on face, and hands it over to her.

“I… I threw it across the room,” she admits, gesturing with her chin. “At the wall.”

“That’s okay,” her mom says. Something about the careful tone doesn’t sit right with Janis, but she’s too drained to care. “If it’s broken we can just get you a new one, okay?” Her hair moves against the fabric of the covers as she nods. “See you later, kid.”

When her mom leaves, the door stays open slightly, no doubt on purpose. She doesn’t have the energy to get up and close it.

Tomorrow should have been the first day of her senior year. Instead it’s the first day for everyone but her. They’ll all be preparing for the unknown, but while her friends prepare for SATs and college choices, she’ll be preparing for IVs and blood tests. They won’t want to get out of their beds, and she’ll be confined to hers.

Janis rolls onto her side, her phone laying dark beside her. No new messages, not from Cady or Damian. The former probably doesn’t have anything to say to her and the latter doesn’t know what. He’s been giving her a lot of space since she told him. She runs her finger across the cold glass, gliding smoothly across until it finds something that shouldn’t be there. A ridge that runs against her fingertip. She’s almost certain what this means, and last week she would have been freaking out and throwing curse words around. Now she just sighs and turns on her phone to assess the damage.

Her lockscreen is, of course, a photo of her and Cady, taken by none other than Damian. The two wearing their pyjamas at a sleepover they had at Damian’s, a night of movie-musicals, Cady’s hair in a messy side braid and her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis pressing a kiss to her head. An hour ago it was the perfect picture, and one of Janis’ favourites. Now there’s cracks running through the screen, small ones at the top poking through her hair and over her eyes, and a longer one that slices between her and Cady. They’re not too bad. Nowhere near bad enough to warrant a new phone. But they’re there and they’re all Janis can see.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #cadnis fanfic #paint by numbers #janis x cady #fic: heart of stone #hey look! some cadnis! actual cadnis! whee!

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anonsally · 5 years

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Day 13 in New Zealand: Otago Peninsula

It was a good day for watching birds on the larger side. Long report below!

Today, Wife had booked herself on a walking tour of the city, while I had booked myself a tour at the Royal Albatross Centre. After averting a near-disaster where she walked off with the car keys and I needed to drive [luckily, I caught up with her before she left on her walking tour], I bought a new pair of hiking shoes. I think they might actually fit better than the ones I lost, and they have the added bonus of being purple. The ones I lost might arrive sometime tomorrow, but I needed hiking shoes before then and I don’t even know whether they will arrive.

I then returned to the car, had my phone navigate for me, and drove alone to the Royal Albatross Centre at the end of the Otago Peninsula. The hard thing about driving on the left isn’t remembering which lane to drive in--it’s staying positioned correctly within the lane when seated on the opposite side of the car from what you’re used to. Both Wife and I are constantly drifting just a little too far to the left when we drive, to the alarm of the passenger. Also, the turn indicators and windshield wipers have switched sides, so the wipers are getting a major workout even though it hasn’t rained much at all.

Anyway, it was a beautiful drive, winding along the coastline with lots of different seabirds (reef heron (I think), white-faced herons, possibly some little shags?, black swans, paradise shelducks, oystercatchers), some boats, and views across the Otago Harbor to Dunedin. There was some road construction going on, but even without it the drive would have mostly been pretty slow, which feels safer to me.

I made it to the Royal Albatross Centre on time. There were only 4 people on my tour--a retired but active Scottish couple, a retired Australian man with a fancy camera, and me. We had a brief lecture and saw an instructional video on the royal albatross, and I learned some fascinating facts:

The chicks stay at the nest for about 9 months before they fledge, and they get really fat--too fat to fly! So their parents have force them to exercise a little and put them on a diet (the chicks eat food their parents regurgitate for them) so that they’ll be able to learn to fly.

Once they fledge, they take off and then don’t touch land for 5 years! When they finally do land, very clumsily on legs they have not stood on in 5 years, it’s always at the site where they hatched.

At this point they are not yet sexually mature, but they start hanging out and showing off with other albatrosses their own age, flirting and gradually building a relationship with one of them. They hang out together on land for a few months, then fly around the pole again and meet up the following year, repeating this a couple times.

The year before they reach sexual maturity, they commit. They build a fake nest together, practice preening each other, etc. Then they fly off for a year and meet up again to try to mate this time.

They only lay one egg every two years. It takes 3 months to incubate the egg (both parents take turns) and then 9 months to raise the chick, and then the parents need a vacation. They fly off separately toward South America and keep going in the same direction until they get back home again a year later. The male usually arrives first and builds the nest, though the females sometimes aren’t happy with the results.

There are currently two F/F couples. The volunteers give them fake eggs to incubate and then, if another egg gets abandoned (or something happens to the parents), they can switch it out and the F/F pairs will raise the chick.

The royal albatrosses have only been nesting on Otago Peninsula for a few decades; previously they nested exclusively on Stewart Island, but maybe it got a bit overcrowded, or some albatrosses got lost? This is the only mainland breeding site for albatrosses in the southern hemisphere.

After this, we walked up the hill to a small building with tinted glass windows that the albatrosses can’t see through. We had a pretty close view of a chick on its nest, with two or three other chicks within sight too. They were large, very fluffy, and pretty fat! There was also a great view of a bunch of Stewart Island shags and their nests, which were all crowded close together (but not within pecking distance). And then we got a brief glimpse of an adult royal albatross soaring around. It was unimaginably huge (wingspans are 2.9-3.3 METERS).

We then went to another hide, this one originally part of a military installment. There was an even closer chick, and we saw the adult flying again. Spectacular.

Afterwards I drove back about 15 minutes or so to pick up Wife, who’d taken a bus as far as she could up the peninsula. We went to do a tour at Penguin Place, a private wildlife reserve and penguin hospital dedicated to conservation of the endangered yellow-eyed penguin (hoiho).

Unlike the little blue penguins, which return home in big rafts of up to several dozen individuals, these penguins are more solitary. The pairs make a nest together but they don’t like their nests to be too close together. We also found out that there are some gay penguin couples in the reserve who have raised orphaned chicks together.

The main problems facing the hoiho are overfishing and climate change; the fish they eat are becoming scarcer due to humans catching most of them, and the fish are living in deeper waters, below where the penguins are evolved to swim. This year the penguin hospital had to care for 300 starving penguins, which is nearly half of New Zealand’s population of them and nearly 20% of the world’s population.

So, first we visited the penguin hospital. There was a fence with a wide slit at eye level to look through; due to the fence, the penguins can’t tell how big we are and don’t feel too threatened. There were still 9 of them there, which is unfortunately a lot for this time of year. Some of them were still moulting and looked pretty hilarious. Others had their new plumage already and looked very sleek and fancy! It was nice to see them so close up, and they won’t be kept any longer than necessary to rehabilitate them, but of course we were still hoping to see one out in the wild, and there was no guarantee.

Next we all boarded a bus which bumped along rough farm roads down to the reserve, where we were taken into covered trenches to the hides where we could look through slits at the penguins when they came ashore and then waddled toward their homes. On our way down to the trenches, the guide pointed out a penguin on the beach already! I had my binoculars with me and was able to get a better look. Then we hurried through the trenches to the hide and had a great view of it waddling along the path. Once it was out of sight, we waited a bit, and then another one came! It basically got followed by another one who wanted to be friends but was rebuffed. We watched the two of them waddling up the path (one a few meters behind the other), stopping periodically to preen, and we also saw two more from a distance, as they didn’t come up the trail from the beach but came up on the rocks a little ways off. It was so great. We saw five of them altogether, and it felt really special. I hope some protections get put in place to help them survive. They are such beautiful birds.

I’m glad I bought the tiny binoculars--they’ve definitely helped me get better views of the birds today. I have now achieved most of my birdwatching goals for the trip: kiwi, royal albatross, blue penguin, yellow-eyed penguin! I am still really hoping to see a tomtit and a pukeko, and I would, of course, be happy to see a kakapo or a South Island kaka, or for that matter any other bird I’ve never seen before. But even if I don’t, I think it’s been quite a successful trip for birdwatching!

#personal #travel #birdwatching #tl;dr

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vileart · 7 years

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Dramaturgy Paradise: George Mann @ Edfringe 2017

Theatre Ad Infinitum presents:

Translunar Paradise

Theatre Ad Infinitum’s breakthrough smash-hit returns to the Fringe for their 10th anniversary

Written and directed by George Mann

Pleasance Courtyard, Fourth, 2 – 28 Aug 2017 (not 9, 15 & 22), 15.45 (17.00)

First seen at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2011, Theatre Ad Infinitum’s multi award-winning, wordless tale of life, death and enduring love returns to the Pleasance following years of extensive international touring amassing nine awards.

Original performers George Mann and Deborah Pugh are joined by Sophie Crawford to retell with precise gesture and touches of humour the story of widower William who escapes to a comforting world of fantasy and memories rather than confront his grief. From beyond the grave, his wife Rose returns to help him let go.

This poignant, life-affirming tale uses intricate and lifelike hand-held masks – created by Madame Tussaud’s senior sculptor Victoria Beaton – to travel back and forth through William and Rose’s relationship, wordlessly conveying a lifetime of memories in 75 minutes. Translunar Paradise returns to the Fringe alongside Theatre Ad Infinitum’s Odyssey for the company’s 10th anniversary.

What was the inspiration for this performance? I had been trying to find a way to understand and deal with grief. My father had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer – after the initial shock two things happened.

Firstly, my father didn’t die in 4 months as we had been told; he fought the disease for another five years. This left my father and I time to resolve some of our long held disputes and disagreements (though not all of them!) and grow a little closer. Secondly, I found that I was grieving his death before he had even passed away, but I didn’t know how to grieve. Our nation and culture don’t do grief very well at all, as I discovered.

We don’t know how to speak about it, what to do, or how to deal with the natural process of grieving that lasts for a variable number of years. So I embarked on finding a story, a style and a play that could evoke a space in which the audience could share in the feelings of love, loss and bereavement – rather than feel alone or isolated.

Translunar Paradise was that play, a non-verbal production that expressed everything I had hoped to communicate – without words. This seemed fitting to me, as my experience of grief for the most part, involved not knowing how to speak about it – but feeling so much. Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas? I think its one of the best spaces. Theatre can evoke the kind of visceral, passionate debate that can only come from having seen a live performance. It needs to be encouraged, but if an audience are invited to speak, to discuss and interact about something they have just watched, it often results in a very fulfilling conversation.

There’s also something unique about this type of debate in that it captures a feeling of community so often lost nowadays – whilst you can express your individual opinion, you are acutely aware of the collective of people who experienced the same show, yet may have different points of view – and this naturally challenges everyone present. Social media, TV – even cinema, often involves the expression of ideas in isolation from one another, ideas and opinions that are not necessarily informed by other peoples views – that create a feeling of wanting to be heard or read or seen, without necessarily having to truly engage or interact with another persons viewpoint.

The nature of debate and being impacted and learning from other people’s insights is lessened. Or reduced to angry exchanges on twitter in which 140 characters cannot properly express or capture the human interaction born of profound communal debate. Of course that’s my point of view and I invite anyone reading to disagree and debate this with me… How did you become interested in making performance? For a long time I was torn between painting, music and song writing, and theatre. But I found that theatre captures all of my passions – directing is like the collaborative composition of a live and constantly moving painting, all theatre that we make involves music and song, musicality and rhythm, and theatre itself is the art form of the imagination and therefore limitless in its possibility – which I love.

Having always loved theatre since a young age, a few moments converged that convinced me it was what I had to do. Seeing Complicité’s Caucasian Chalk Circle and Theatre O’s The Argument –discovering Jacque Lecoq’s pedagogy and physical theatre making school in Paris (and deciding I had to train there) – and understanding I didn’t have to define myself as ‘actor’ or ‘writer’ or ‘director’ as you’re encouraged to do in the UK, you could play all of these roles and more! Is there any particular approach to the making of the show? For me and for Theatre Ad Infinitum we set ourselves the aim of making something completely different each time we begin creating a play, and we usually always devise and make theatre through improvisation. This is very exciting, each time we’re entering into the unknown, but its also terrifying, as it’s a risk.

With Translunar Paradise I had never made a mask and mime show before, and making one about grief definitely raised a few eyebrows – I didn’t know if it would work, it was an instinct I was following. Not only that, but although I had trained in mask at the Lecoq School, I had had an idea about the masks being hand-held so that we could easily remove them and put them back on again as the story (which moves in time from an 80 year old couple in the present day back to the past and stories of their 60 year marriage together).

There was no examples of such a mask I draw from, so we had to understand, discover and find out how to play such masks and tell a story with them from scratch. Its very challenging, but I love it. Does the show fit with your usual productions? As all of our shows strive to be completely different, it fits perfectly in that its nothing like any of our other shows to date! What do you hope that the audience will experience? At the risk of sounding cheesy, the honest answer to this question is: I hope that the audience will be moved – to think about grief, the impact of death, the joy of life and how important it is to love without the fear of loss. Love and loss are a natural part of life, as is learning how to live with these facts, its something I’m still learning how to do. What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience? I always focus on the story I’m telling and finding a style that can tell the story in the most powerful and effective way. We never take our audiences for granted and always put our plays through a vigorous process in which audiences are invited in to the room/theatre to watch and give feedback on the performance at roughly three stages, sometimes more, of our staggered 12-15 weeks of rehearsal (usually we’ll make work in period of 4-5 weeks finishing with a showing, take a break and then continue).

We ask for honest feedback and tell them not to hold back – as we see it as such a valuable way to learn how the play is perceived. Do the audience see what we hope they will see? If not why? Does it work? What bits are awful? Did the audience understand – or – what did the audience understand?

These are some of the questions we ask, and we take many notes. Then after a period of time in which we digest this information, we make plans and go back into rehearsal. Of course, even this process doesn’t guarantee the outcome, its success or enable any true control over shaping an audiences experience – but it keeps our feet on the ground, keeps us humble and stops us forgetting that theatre is both for an audience and unable to exist without one.

The production won multiple awards in the UK and abroad, including Mervyn Stutters’ Pick of the Fringe, the Brave New World Award and Audience Award at the Sarajevo MESS Theatre Festival in Bosnia & Herzegovina, the Best Theatre Direction Award at ACT Festival Bilbao Spain, The Argus Angel Award, Brighton Festival 2012, The Netherlands’ Wijkjury First Prize Award 2014 and The Observer Iron Man Award for actress and musician Kim Heron. George Mann said, “I'll never forget the first performances of this piece and the response of audiences. Translunar came from such a personal impulse - my father was dying of lung cancer and I felt that I was living in a country and a culture that didn't offer me a way to deal with my grief - the grief I felt knowing he would die; the grief I felt when he died. From this feeling I set about making this show of love, loss and letting go. Sadly my father passed before we completed and premiered the production. But the response was heart-warming - the show created what I can only describe as a communal space of grief - a place in which people could share in a feeling of loss and profound love. It was extraordinary. As were the stories audience members shared with us after every show. It was a humbling and unforgettable experience and I look forward to sharing this show once more.” A company whose work shifts in style as they explore each new subject, Theatre Ad Infinitum are showcasing several of their hit productions this year for the company’s 10th anniversary. Odyssey also returns to the Pleasance at Edinburgh Festival Fringe, following the return of Light to Battersea Arts Centre in June. Bucket List, the company’s new production for 2016, garnered critical acclaim, a Spirit of the Fringe Award, and enjoyed a London premiere at BAC where it was nominated for an Offie for Best Ensemble before an extensive UK tour. Co-Artistic Director George Mann also directed Medea at Bristol Old Vic in May. Theatre Ad Infinitum is an international ensemble of theatre-makers based in Bristol, UK, that develops new and original theatre for diverse audiences. Led by Co-Artistic Directors, Nir Paldi and George Mann, the group has been creating and touring critically acclaimed, award-winning productions for 10 years. Theatre Ad Infinitum’s mission is to create theatre that examines social and political themes through innovative storytelling and bold experimental styles, making something completely different each time. The company has recently become and Associate Artist at Bristol Old Vic and is an Associate Artist Alumni at Bush Theatre (2011-2013) The Lowry (2011-2017) and Redbridge Drama Centre (2009-2017). from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2rXQJ1l

#Theatre #Blogger #visual art #Edinburgh Fringe #Experimental Critique

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allwicca · 8 years

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Four Rules of Witchcraft for Personal Sovereignty

By: Heron Michelle

Allow me to take you back to a time not so long ago…It was a shining Autumn Equinox day here in North Carolina, and we’d just returned from vending at the Pagan Pride Festival in Raleigh the previous day, so I was considerably exhausted.

We’d spent a lovely weekend in the company of 3000+ fine pagans . It was also a family reunion, as we got to see many from our Sojo Tribe who live in that area. I love my tribe; they are the most mature, civilized and responsible group of witches I’ve ever known. It is a rare thing to have a teaching coven last so long without strain from diva-drama.

The Mabon Day Revelations

That crisp afternoon, I was cruising Facebook and see a posting by Raven Grimassi lamenting how within the witching communities, many are quick to stoop to pitiful levels of back-stabbing each other in public forums. He implored us to become the kind of people who seek out the best in each other, rather than constantly harping on the worst in each other.

I read this sad message just as I was laying down for a nap. As my three kitties snuggled in around me, I thought about all the times folks I’d trusted had betrayed me, and the “Rules” that developed as we tried to learn a better way to coven together. They started as a comedic way to illustrate thealogical concepts (3). Until this fateful Mabon day, we only had two: Don’t burn the Witch and Don’t be the Asshole. As I descended into sleep, I knew this is basically what Raven was asking of us.

1. Don’t burn the Witch.

The obvious: If you are going to work with the element of Fire, respect its potential, then avoid accidents.  The less obvious: Be careful not to conjure up what you don’t know how to safely send back.

Heal thyself: All things vibrate, and like vibrations attract more of the same. (Hermetic Principle of Vibration, also called the Law of Attraction.) If you remain a pulsing magnet of self-loathing, no matter what intention your mouth speaks, you are doomed to repeat your past suffering. If you continue to harbor your wounds, you cannot evolve beyond “wounded consciousness” and all your magick will ever cause is a good ol’ fashioned witch burning of YOURSELF.

“If that which you seek you find not within, you will never find it without.”

Charge of the Goddess, Doreen Valiente

Empowerment starts with YOU. Wisdom starts with YOU. Healing starts with YOU. YOU ARE THE MAGICK, so make it effective, harmonious, kick-ass magick sourced by Divine Love. The FIRST step on the path of the Witch is to learn to recognize these wounds for what they are, release all lingering connection to them, and heal from the inside out. Love yourself first. THEN, and only then, can you begin to break the cycle of woundings and don the crown of personal sovereignty.

Perfect Love and Perfect Trust: In the name of all things holy, STOP burning your fellow Witches! We have a hard enough time not being “burned” by the rest of society, if we can’t treat each other with respect, what are we playing at?

2. Don’t be the Asshole.

By my definition, you are being the asshole when you violate any of the eight Divine Love conditions explained in Aphrodite’s Theology of Perfection: acceptance for your true self, sovereignty to live with free-will, resources to thrive, affection of your preference, expression of your truth, security on all levels, authenticity without exploitation, and trustworthiness. Think of any example of conflict and see which one of those conditions it violated. It’s usually pretty clear who is harming whom.

“These Eight words the Rede fulfill: An Ye Harm None, Do What Ye Will.”

The Wiccan Rede

With every action we take, our interactions with people, animals, society, the unseen hosts, or the natural world, we have a choice: benefit or detriment. This can take enormous powers of discretion to navigate because the exact same action in one scenario makes you the asshole, and in another scenario makes you the hero.

3. Don’t be the Weak Link

Circling back to the Mabon Day Revelations: As I lay there drifting off, I pondered a third rule, and all I wanted it to express, but didn’t yet have a pithy way to say it. In the twilight between dreaming and waking, I mull over how responsibility is about choice and strong character, regardless if anyone else notices, or you’re surrounded by folks who can’t be trusted. *YOU* can be trusted, and that creates for you a strong sphere of influence. Something like, “Responsibility begins and ends with you.” Boring, right? Oh, and how important is the circle to the Witch, am I right? Everything is more effective in the sacred circle.

The Vision takes over, and I see the fabric of the Universe, matter and spirit woven together. I’ve always imagined it with the warp and weft of a tapestry, but that shifts and instead it becomes a cloth of chainmail with each being within it their own circle link. They are pliable enough to have free will, sovereign and strong enough on their own, but together…together, they can do so much more!

If all links remain strong within their own character, beginning and ending every interaction in alignment with their moral compass; if we use our power to cohesively weave together a responsible world within our own sphere of influence, then together we can all coexist in harmony, to ENORMOUS, reverberating benefit.

Then the vision shifted and I saw how if one link weakens; sees themselves as a straight line pointing only to their own ego; “burns” themselves through self-loathing, or projects that onto others as distrust; if they become the asshole who wields their own wound as a weapon to wound other people; through this weakness of character they betray the bonds of the surrounding links. If they exploit the natural environment, disrupting their relationship to the Divine through each other, then that hole in the chainmail grows, and ruins things exponentially throughout existence. It was like watching a fuse burn to ash; the chainmail image crumbled into a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

There is your three-fold law of return demonstrated! If we exude beneficial energy in the world, we are benefited. If we exude destructive energy in the world, we are destroyed, but we are all in this together. If we work with unity, for unity, all of Divine creation flows with us. It is so simple. It only takes one weak link to ruin the “armor” of harmonious existence for everyone.

“Don’t be the Weak Link” blazes into my mind’s eye, glowing as if written in green neon lights. YES! That’s it! How pithy. How cliche. How marvelous.

4. Must be Present to Win

As the green blaze of the third rule still glowed in the vision, I sat up, trying to regain control. I was excited and seeking my trusty pen and journal. When before I can clear my eyes, MUST BE PRESENT TO WIN damn near bullies its way through my mind and I am physically taken over again. Seriously…bold, towering letters rumble in a deep voice and they echo, shake and get in my face. It was like an episode of sesame street animation busted into my head and took me hostage.

Huh. Whaddaya know about that? Unbidden, a direct Divine download, the Mabon Day Revelations: Must be present to win. Cute.

The Obvious: You have to be dogged in your determination to follow this path, because it is not suitable for everyone. It is neither glamorous, nor easy. It does not serve those who would wield the title to gain acclaim, nor control over others. When done with correct humility it does come with benefits for those brave enough to be fully present and make whatever sacrifices are required.

Show Up: This path demands that you keep showing up, every day, on all levels, for the rest of your life. Get up off your couch, stop wishing, stop bitching about your woes, stop bending over and taking that beating. Get yourself forthwith to the crossroads and DO THE WORK. Know what you need, apply the fires of your passion, dare to overcome all obstacles, and then be so fully awake in wonderment that the Universe is rendered fluid and saturated in miracles.

Wake up: Each exquisite moment is a gift not to be squandered; fully present in the joy and the pain, the abundance and the lack, even the love AND the fear of a lack of love. All of it courageously undertaken, because they hone your wisdom and power to propel you forward in your evolution.

Be the Warrior Witch: You have to put your keister where your values lie. Witchcraft is a PRAXIS: protest, sit-in, march, vote, armor up, take up the magickal weapons, stare down the Balrog (4) to defend the boundaries. To be a Witch is to seek the truth within, then live it through every breath. You have to confront your fears and tackle them into submission. No matter what the desire or issue, it can only be solved by being fully present, listening, observing, engaging compassionately with people in person, especially when there is a conflict to resolve or a need to be met.

People of good conscience cannot continue to knuckle under to the “witch burners” among us. Nor can we blithely ignore the divisive behavior of those who would sully our good standing through malevolent behavior.

“With no fool a season spend, nor be counted as their friend.”

The Wiccan Rede

“Haters” of any stripe cannot simultaneously claim to be a witch and be taken seriously; defrock them; warlock them (Warlock–meaning in this instance–that a witch who took oaths within a group to “harm none” are now known to be an “oath breaker” and are magickally disassociated from the group who once acknowledged them. This is a breaking of their connection to that group’s egregore, reputation and power, as a means of diminishing the oath breaker’s ability to do more harm to themselves or others.). If their magickal weapon of choice is ye’ olde knife between the shoulder blades, then they are not a witch. They are a fool and if you do nothing, you are guilty by association.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

English philosopher Edmund Burke

Going Gandalf:  Through my years with Aphrodite, she’s emphasized repeatedly that if someone is violating any of her Divine Love Conditions, then they are doing harm, and that harm will resonate outward by orders of magnitude. They are the problem, and it is now the duty of any responsible witch, teacher, friend, neighbor, citizen, soldier, officer, social worker, etc., to stop them from doing this harm.

The Goddess works through both the spanking and the kiss and as her priestess I am happy to deliver both. You can be gracious and merciful even when you need to crack a few heads, because today I am loving you by saying NO, and YOU SHALL NOT PASS whatever boundary is being trespassed. The wise Witch knows when to stand in their truth, living authentically, yet doing so with ego properly aligned with highest Divine Will.

How do I navigate “harm none” as an agent of Divine Love? I bind harmful actions, and diminish their effect. I honor that wounds drive the assholery of others, so it does no benefit to seek vengeance on a wounded person who is behaving badly. I send Reiki into the wounds, and ease the dis-ease of heart and mind. I help to defeat fears, and secure resources, restore any of the Love Conditions that may be the root of these baneful actions.

Then I protect those who would be affected by the malevolent reek of those rogue beings until such time that they learn their healing lessons. I step back in peace and “hold the space,” centered in compassion. This way we can dismiss the drama and not engage in histrionics that cannot serve any good. There is only one way I intend to expend my energy: effectively.

The Lighthouse Mission:

This Mabon Day Revelation for me was that we witches will be better served if we complete our migration out into the light of day, forever away from the shadowy lie of the broom closet and do our Work courageously. No parade is necessary, just the mere un-shuttering of our flames like lighthouses on the rocky shores of this society.

Lighthouses don’t chase the ships; they just stand tall and sturdy, shining brightly without shame. The blinding light from so many fully-realized witches will dazzle the muggles anyway, so we have that distraction working for us. I won’t be easy, but hear this: WE ARE WITCHES. If we cannot take up the power to be fully present in this society, accurately known for our contributions, then who can be?

Blessings!

~Heron

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