#and plato rocked the flat top

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

I've said this before, but human!au Victoria and Plato would be 80s mall rats and that's a fact.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 9 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I really love how this part turned out; there are so many details in it I’m proud of. A special thanks to @carousallie again; you’re the reason Duncan’s going to meet Madeline at Busboys and Poets in a couple chapters. Here’s GIRL WITH A HEART OF GOLD; I have a weakness for classic rock. I used to have that quote from Plato’s Symposium written on a piece of paper on my college dorm wall; I gave it to Duncan because I’m the one who’s loved it for-fucking-ever--that idea of there being another half of you floating around out there somewhere in the world; the epitome of bittersweet. I really wanted to emphasize Duncan losing his temper at the end there; when it comes to Kenzie, his desire to protect her will continue to overcome his business-savvy and sense of duty to his mother and the company in the future. I’m definitely leaning into implying that Duncan and Kenzie occasionally get whiffs of their magickal powers from the AHS universe; they aren’t realized powers, but they are present in a smaller way than the AHS universe; it’s my nod to them both being aware and yet unaware of their mutual sixth-sense abilities compared to most people around them (in a universe that doesn’t have overt supernatural magick), but deep down, in my AU, they are still a witch and a warlock. So many big scenes coming up, but the next part is going to mostly be about clothes (A THEME IN MY FIC Y’ALL) in the form of Kenzie trying to wrap her head around the credit card and key Duncan gave her, Kenzie making Duncan dinner because she wants to, and Duncan giving her a special gift. Oh, and Kenzie’s boss Candice (my Cordelia AU) finding out that she’s dating Duncan Shepherd. And Duncan making good on his promise to Kenzie at the beginning of this chapter... Just need to shout-out @nat-de-lioncourt again too, she made this moodboard (the third she’s made for my fic, she’s a dream) that almost made me burst into tears at work today, so--thank you for everything, darling, from the bottom of my heart--I feel like you truly understand the mood and aesthetic of my story better than pretty much anyone, and that means everything to me. A reminder that the masterpost is the easiest place to find all the chapters; spread it around if you feel inclined, as it won’t show up under the #millory tag, to my dismay. This website is the worst sometimes.

Duncan woke to sunlight streaming off one of Kenzie’s little windchimes; the one that looked like a celestial sun beside her bed, glinting onto them where they slept, shimmering gold. Kenzie was still sleeping quietly, her back almost pressing against his torso, but a few centimeters away; his arm was around the incline of her waist, tucked between the warmth of her little breasts; his face close to the back of her head, close enough that the smell of her hair filled his nose as he woke; the scent of her was achingly lovely to him and he pulled her closer to him almost involuntarily, against him, the better to breathe her in. He looked around for a clock, and found one facing him beside her bed, an old-fashioned alarm clock with a twin bell and a moon with a serene, smiling expression on its face. 7:13 AM.

“Baby,” he whispered into her ear, pressing kisses along her earlobe. “Baby…”

Kenzie let out a little moan that thrilled him, made him hard--I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of exploring her body, hearing the soft noises she makes when she’s against me, he thought, I wish we could stay in this bed all day--and she turned her head a little, drowsily, to look up at him. “Is it morning already?”

“It is, baby. Kenzie. Angel.”

He leaned his mouth down again to press it against her ear; moved his lips down to the incline of her jaw, down to the crook of her neck. She shivered under him, her eyelids fluttering. “But I don’t want it to be morning yet,” she whispered, one of her little hands coming up as she turned to him, trailing down his arm, sending more warmth down into his cock, making him harder; Kenzie slipped her little hand down under the sheet, fingers closing around his length; he gasped a little into her throat, “fuck baby, yes”, as she started to move her hand up and down in short little strokes until he was painfully hard; then, she pushed his shoulders back gently so he was against the pillow again, sitting up half-sleepily but with a slowly-building arousal in the back of her eyes (that dark green), moving lithely down so her little head was level with his erection, her mouth hovering over the head of his cock. She looked at him for a moment, her hand still moving against his length, then pressed a bead of warm spit into the slit at the head of it, her little mouth sliding down onto him, making him moan loudly, needily. She moved her head down further, her little tongue working against the side of him, coating him in her saliva, bringing him close to the edge already; then she moved her head up again, her hand coming around the bareness that she left in her wake, working her fingers along him, sucking greedily.

“Kenzie, fuck, Kenzie…”

“I want you to come in my mouth, baby,” she whispered against the slit of his cock, and she pressed the flat of her tongue against it, working it back and forth. “Oh fuck, fuck me,” he murmured, moving his hands so they tangled in her hair as she worked at him. “Fuck me, baby, that feels so fucking amazing, I wanna come for you--”

She moved her mouth down again so she enveloped him, a little gag shuddering through her, and god, that made him crazy, that made him feel fucking unhinged, unraveling. He moaned again, loudly, feeling a hazy shadow at the corners of his eyes; “fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he said, his voice strangled with his desire to hold on; at that, she worked her head faster up and down his length for a moment, grasping the base of his cock with her little hand, squeezing just a little, sending him in that instant tumbling into a blind orgasm that surged out of him into the warm, wet little canal of her throat as he cried out “holy fuck, Kenzie, fuck, baby, I love your little mouth, I love you--” and he felt her smile into him as she sucked his release down, her spittle sliding in rivulets to pool around his balls. She lifted her little head up (gold in the light to him), and she was smiling, her tongue sliding languidly over her bottom lip, which was wet with his come, and he pulled her with insistence against his mouth, his tongue tangling into hers, desperately hungry for her.

“Fuck, Kenzie, that was amazing,” he murmured into her between kisses, pressing into her.

“Glad I was satisfactory, Sir,” she giggled, and the Sir made his body go hot and cold at once, made him pull her against him, his hands falling down, reaching for her breasts, twisting at her nipples with aching attention. He went to press his hand down further, between her legs--he wanted to make her come now, all over his hand, into his throat like she had last night, but she gently pulled his hand away, bringing it to rest against the side of her breast again.

“Later, baby,” she whispered, her mouth pressing into his chin, kissing the stubble that grew there tenderly. “Later, you can eat me as much as you want. But I have to go to work soon, and I need coffee, and I was wondering--” she went on, lips sliding against his throat, along his adam’s apple, needling plumes of heat along his arms and the back of his skull, “--if you want to go get some with me.”

“Yes,” he replied softly, closing his eyes, leaning into her kisses. “Yes, Kenzie, okay. Coffee.” And he moaned a little, the tenderness of her mouth unbearable. “But later. Tonight. I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she whispered into his ear, biting against the lobe, and it was everything he could do to not press her roughly into the sheets and bury his face at her sweet little clit. “I’ll be keeping this one,” he replied, his eyes gazing into hers.

She smiled, a dangerous sort of challenge playing at the corners, and slipped away from him; he tried to grab her wrist, but like the morning before, she was supernaturally quick and his hand grasped at empty air. She flitted over to the corner where her standing clothes rack stretched along one wall, her little hands immediately going between the folds to choose an outfit, her naked back turned to him again; he gazed at her body with open lust, but he also loved seeing her clothes this way, spread out, as if he was seeing a piece of her soul, most of the colors in earth tones, especially black, gray, olives and umbers, with some flashes of mulberry and burnt caramel and dark crimson here and there, a few garments of creamy opaline and ivory. He didn’t need to look at her clothes to know she had lovely taste, but they certainly reinforced the knowledge; he wanted to reach out and touch every piece, smell them, feel their texture, because they belonged to her, and that made them beloved to him. He remembered his earlier proposition to her with a thrill, sliding to the side of the bed where his pants lay in a heap, pulling his Ferragamo wallet from the back pocket. As she thumbed through her wardrobe, thoughtful, he slipped a credit card out of one of the billfolds (a Platinum American Express) and the electronic key-card to his penthouse from another billfold, setting them gently on Kenzie’s bedside table next to the necklace she’d been wearing last night; its pendant was two crescent moons on either side of a full moon; Duncan gazed at the necklace for a moment, his fingers trailing along its curves, lost in thought again; my little moon, my moonlight, he thought. My Kenzie.

He turned back to watch her (my girlfriend, my love, my angel), seeing her hands had eventually lighted on a mock neck top in a dusky beige, now folded over the crook of her arm, and she had moved to the little chest of drawers--wood, with inlaid cuttings of moons and stars--at the wall beside the hanging rack, pulling out a knee-length black skirt with buttons down the front and a pair of black underwear; straightening, bending down again, her slender legs and curvy hips twisting in the morning sunlight, she slipped the underwear on, hiding her sweet sex from him now, looking up at him, her eyes meeting his. “See anything you like?” She grinned at him.

“Everything.” He stared at her. “I love everything. I love this space because it’s yours.”

“Pfft, my tiny, shitty apartment,” she countered.

“I love it. It smells like you and it looks like you and I love it. All your plants, the suns and moons, everything. Everything.”

She blushed a little, looking away from him, picking the cream-colored bralette off the floor that she’d discarded there last night (she’d rested her chosen outfit on the top of the dresser) snapping it swiftly around her torso, flipping it up, pulling the mock neck top over her head, walking on soft feet past him (he tried to reach for her again but she flitted away, laughter behind her eyes, the smile still playing around her mouth) and he made a frustrated, longing sound in the back of his throat, pouting at her. Her hair, tangled from sleep, bounced against her back as she turned away from him again to the fridge, her bare legs enticing him, pulling a Brita out and taking a glass out of the cupboard next to it (the cup was covered in peonies), filling it with water, replacing the Brita, bending down so he could see the outline of her ass in her little underwear, and he bit his lip in longing.

“Do you want some water?”

“Yes. Come here.”

She stepped softly towards him, holding the glass out; he grasped it, his fingers closing over hers tightly, pulling her hand with the cup in it to him, his other hand coming around possessively to cup her ass through her underwear under her bare legs, trailing his fingers down the back of her thigh. He pulled the glass out of her hand, gently, setting it on the table beside the two cards he’d placed there, his eyes looking up into her face.

“You look so fucking lovely,” he whispered, his other hand falling to the back of her knee, fingers curling against her soft skin, trailing in circles. He couldn’t stop himself. She was sending thrilling jolts of electric energy through him; making him feel like he was on fire, his body hovering over hot embers; the embers of her.

“Shut the fuck up,” she said, but she was giggling softly, “you are so full of shit.”

“I mean it.” He smiled, but he did; I do, I do, baby, I do, I love you.

“You better get dressed,” she insisted. “I need that fucking coffee and I have to be at the office in an hour and a half.”

“Yes, Madame Kenzie, your wish is my command.”

“Stop it,” she pushed out of his arms, but her expression was delighted. “Get dressed, Prince Duncan.”

“Prince?” He blushed.

“My very own.”

They stared at each other; she stood a few feet away now, her back half-turned to him towards where the skirt she’d picked out was still resting against the dresser, the light from the window over her bed against her cheek. He bit his lip again, words fading from his mind; she was beyond all words to him, her beauty defied his ability to describe. He felt lost inside her eyes; he never wanted to reemerge from them. The silent thread of fate seemed to pass through them both again, and he felt his breath stolen away with the power of the nameless thing; the weight of a universe seemed to be inside it, a vast expanse of time, something greater than either of them, something that only existed when they were together. My soul falling against hers, he thought, unsure of where the thought had come from. Our souls fitting together. He thought of Plato’s Symposium, which he’d read in private school; these lines from it had resonated in his mind for weeks after, and he’d obsessed over them: According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.

My other half, he thought, and his heart seemed to swell inside him, and he felt overwhelmed again, speechless before her, struck dumb with the depth of feeling that spread out from him, encircling her, invisible. Her eyes seemed to glow in the light; he saw flecks of gold in them again, imagined the halo around her head again as he had before. He felt blessed to be looked at by her. Felt blessed to be in her space; in her orbit, to be beside her, blessed beyond measure to kiss her, to worship her.

“Kenzie. I love you.”

“I love you too. Get dressed.”

Duncan obeyed.

------

Duncan stepped out of Kenzie’s apartment building beside her (she looks so fucking lovely, he thought again, he couldn’t help it, holding the soft gold thought against his heart, secretly), reaching out to grab her little fingers; her black satchel was slung against her, her dark skirt falling below her knees, a little rose quartz point hanging around her neck today (“rose quartz for love,” she’d said as she put it on, leaning up to kiss him, and his heart had fluttered), and she wore black heeled sock boots so her head came to his shoulder, her forehead brushing lightly against him as he shut the door of her building behind them, softly. He pulled her delicately to him again, pressing a chaste kiss onto her mouth, grasping her fingers tightly, and she smiled up at him, not speaking, stepping away and pulling him behind her down the sidewalk, the air warm and breezy, fresh with dew. Any other day he’dve been annoyed to be wearing last night’s clothes (she’d given him a spare toothbrush, at least, echoing him doing the same for her two nights ago; echoes inside echoes), but it didn’t seem to matter at all right now; he was content to just be with her, content to hold her hand and look at her hair and her eyes and the fall of her clothes on her little body, listen to the clicking of her boots on the pavement. Content with her.

“It’s nice to live so close to my favorite coffee shop,” she murmured to him over her shoulder as he strode up behind her, gaining on her quick walk easily with his longer legs, closing the distance that had been momentarily stretching their clasped hands. He didn’t want her to let go of him; the way her little fingers were threaded through his larger hand made his heart thump wildly, euphorically. “They do cocktails and have a bar too, it’s so great, and oh my god, this amazing smoothie with chocolate and avocado--” Duncan half-listened to her sweet babbling, his mind going back to a few minutes before, when she’d gone to her dresser before they left the apartment, reaching for the glass of water covered in peonies, finally noticing where he’d left the credit card and the keycard on her nightstand. She’d turned to him, a timid sort of question in her eyes, as if to say: is this really okay? He’d come up to her, folding her into his arms again, trying to reassure her with his steady gaze. “I want you to get yourself anything you want, anything you need to keep at my apartment when you stay with me,” he said, echoing the text he’d sent her the day before. “Anything you see that you like. Anything. Beautiful things. And I want you to have a key, because it’s your apartment now too, as often as you want it to be.”

He’d watched the small bob of her throat, the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, and he moved his hand through one side of the hair (she’d brushed it out now and it was silky-soft) that framed her little face. “Baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. It makes me happy to give you these things. Please, accept them?”

She sniffed a little, and he could see the moisture still gathering around her eyes. He brought his fingers up to her eyelids, brushing the tears away with achingly soft fingers.

“Okay,” she said, her lip still trembling. She broke away from him, going to the little drawer under her nightstand, his eyes following the cascade of her chestnut-gold hair; she pulled out a silver key attached to a silver crescent moon keychain, and brought it over to his hand, closing his fingers over it. “This is a key to my shitty little apartment,” she said, sniffling again, laughing a little as she said it. “For you, my love.”

“Not shitty,” he whispered. “Not at all. It’s yours. It’s perfect. Thank you. I’m honored.”

He pulled her into him, and she had buried her face into the crook of his leather jacket under his arm, her little shuddering breaths making his heart stop, and he pressed his face into the side of her hair, and drank in her smell, and felt the invisible thread tying around and around them, knotting and encircling, and he had wished the moment could last forever, and he had tucked it away in his heart too, in the growing treasure chest that was moments with her, time with her, her.

----

They walked into the warm, espresso-scented embrace of Emissary, the coffee shop and cocktail bar Kenzie had been so excited to bring him to, their hands still tightly clasped together; he liked it immediately, its exposed brick and latticed windows, and its close-knit, long wood cocktail bar, the marble countertops of the espresso bar. There were a few people milling around in line ahead of them, and he and Kenzie fell into step at the end. She tucked herself for a moment into the space under his arm, and he brought it around her, amazed by how right she felt there; he glanced down at his phone, noticed a text from his mother, and slipped it back into his pocket, not reading it. You made her wait last night, he thought. Now you can wait, Mom. He knew his mother didn’t like to be kept waiting for a reply, but fuck, he couldn’t care right now. Kenzie was pressed against him and the sweet smell of coffee was filling his nose and he was wildly happy, not wanting the day to go on, not wanting her to leave him, wanting to stay here with her this way, in this moment.

He glanced up, absently; he immediately noticed two people ahead of them in line, two middle-aged women in professionally-styled suits and angled-bob haircuts. One of the women was glancing back and forth between him and her friend, who was staring at him openly, a familiar I know who you are expression in her eyes. He met her gaze for a moment and then looked back down at Kenzie, who hadn’t seemed to notice the woman’s stare; she was staring off into the cafe, eyes locked on a girl sitting at one of the tables on her laptop; Kenzie’s expression seemed delighted and nervous at the same time, and Duncan could tell she knew the girl, though they were currently too far away for Kenzie to speak to her. The woman who was staring at him was fiddling with her phone in one hand, a business case over her shoulder; she idly pressed the home button and lowered the phone to hide it around her side. I’ve seen that move before, he thought anxiously. She’s trying to take a picture of us.  

“Are you Duncan Shepherd?” The other woman asked, the one who had been glancing between her nosy friend and Duncan with his arm around Kenzie; she had dark brown hair and bright red lipstick, an American flag pin against the lapel of her business suit, which was navy-and-pink pinstripes. Kenzie’s eyes slid away from the girl in the corner; she looked up at the woman at the sound of Duncan’s name.

“His twin brother,” Duncan said, trying not to smile.

“He doesn’t have a twin,” the nosy woman said, batting her eyelashes at Duncan. “You are Duncan Shepherd.” She had blonde highlights and was rail-thin with sharp-looking pastel pink nails.

“Guilty.” He pressed his arm tighter around Kenzie, who was looking at the women with a worried, wary expression, rubbing her lips together nervously. The line moved up; the women stood behind the person at the counter now.

“Oh my god, I love your show,” the woman with the pinstriped suit said with saccharine sweetness. “Melody is my favorite TV personality, always telling it like it is.” She winked at him as she said the last part, and he felt Kenzie move against him restlessly.

“Thank you.”

���Can I take a picture of you both?” The woman with blonde highlights said in an irritatingly-high octave. “You’re so gorrrr-geous!” She already had her phone angled at them now, and before Duncan or Kenzie could say anything, she’d pressed the home button several times in a row.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d delete those,” Duncan said, his voice going low with anger as he tried not to attract more attention. “We didn’t consent to having our picture taken. You’re bothering us.”

The woman made a face at him, like she’d swallowed something sour. She turned around, not making an effort to delete the photos. He felt Kenzie trembling a little under his arm; he looked at her face; it was pinched in anger and her cheeks were blushing. He looked back up at the woman, about to say something else, but heard Kenzie’s voice suddenly from where she was still tucked under his arm.

“He asked you nicely to delete the photos,” she said, her tone bitter with annoyance. “You’re being rude. How would you like it if someone took photos of you without asking?”

“I asked.”

“No, you fucking took it without waiting for us to answer you.”

“Fuck off, honey.”

“Hey, what the fuck,” Duncan growled, his anger rising, simmering just under his skin now. He noticed the cafe had gone quiet; only the dreamy lo-fi music overhead kept the space from being dead silent. “Don’t fucking talk to her that way.”

The barista behind the counter eyed them, nervously; it was the same nonbinary person Kenzie had gotten a latte from a few days before. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem, we were just leaving,” the woman with highlights said. She quickly walked out of the line and towards the front door, her pointed heels clacking on the speckled stone flooring. Her friend in the pinstripes hurried after her, glancing behind at Duncan and Kenzie again, smirking.

Kenzie was shaking with anger and shock still, he could feel her trembling under him, and Duncan grasped her arm, murmuring down to her. “Kenzie, it doesn’t matter, it’s okay. It doesn’t mean anything.” But she had a disoriented look in her eyes; she wasn’t used to the particular brand of spotlight Duncan attracted, and that was obvious. He thought of Samuel’s words to him the night before; She will need all your strength in the days to come. She is not from your world and she will need your help to navigate it. He kept his arm around her protectively as the cafe patrons went back to their lattes and matchas and egg sandwiches, pointedly trying not to stare at him now (Duncan Shepherd, they knew, he could see it in their eyes before they slid off him) and the cute girl under his arm. Thanks a whole fucking lot, he thought as the women moved out onto the street, talking with each other excitedly, the blonde woman staring at her phone, obviously, at the pictures she’d taken of them, making his stomach sink. Now the whole fucking cafe knows we’re here. “Kenzie, forget it. Madeline knows, my mother knows. It’s not important.”

“That was just--so weird…” she trailed off, but the barista nodded to them, indicating it was their turn next in line. Kenzie ordered a soy latte; Duncan a large black coffee. Before he could give the barista his card, Kenzie had passed them a $20 bill with her quick little fingers. He looked at her with an embarrassment of affection. “Kenzie--”

“Just let me, okay,” she said, her cheeks glowing again, and he went silent, looking down, smiling. “Sorry about all that,” she said to the barista, nodding towards the front door a little, where the women had just turned the corner. They smiled at her, shaking their head. “It’s wasn’t your fault,” they replied. “I heard the conversation.” “Still, sorry anyway. Thank you.” He watched her slip a $5 bill into the tip jar, and wanted to kiss her soft little cheek. An angel. They stepped away from the counter towards the end, waiting for their drinks.

“My friend Claire is over there,” Kenzie said to him quietly, hand falling down around his wrist, stroking his skin there, her eyes flitting over to the blonde girl at her laptop who was now staring at them, smiling nervously, giving Kenzie a little wave. “Can we go over and say hello to her?”

“I’d love to meet your friend, Kenzie,” he said, nodding at Claire in the corner, giving her a little smile. Claire looked down, blushing a little, clearly star-struck, making him feel wildly nervous suddenly. He had never felt this before; this deep need for the people who Kenzie was close with to approve of him. He realized he really wanted everyone she cared about to like him, and it threw him off his footing completely; a new feeling indeed, he thought, idly running his thumb along the bottom of his lip, around his jaw. A need for their approval; a need for hers most of all.

Kenzie led him carefully over to the table where the blonde girl was sitting, hands on her knees. She had a carefully-styled blonde shag, dark magenta lips, and a bright-eyed stare. She was wearing a long, periwinkle-blue flowing dress covered in a pattern of leaves and tiny white flowers with a tying bow at her neck, and knee-high saddle-colored boots. She stood carefully; she was shorter than he was, but a few inches taller than Kenzie. My little Kenzie, he thought, the hidden warmth in him extending around her, fingers tangled in hers.

“Duncan, this is Claire Augustine.” Duncan watched Mackenzie’s face light up brightly as she gazed at her friend with sweet, glowing eyes. She loves this girl, he thought. Her heart  is so open, it’s so lovely. “Clairebear--this is Duncan Shepherd.”

“So happy to meet you,” Claire said, extending her hand. He lifted his large one into hers and she shook it with a little side-to-side rattle, like she was shaking pepper into a cooking pot. He smiled at the oddness of it. “Kenzie has said such wonderful things about you.”

“God, I hope I can live up to all of it,” he said, sheepishly. “It’s hard to compare to her.” He glanced at Kenzie, his cheeks warm, running his thumb against the palm of her hand where they were clasped together. Kenzie looked up at him, her long eyelashes framing her hazel eyes, her expression shy, the rose quartz around her neck flashing in the cafe’s warm lights. Claire’s eyes danced between them; he could see the sincere happiness on her face, the excitement for Mackenzie, the bubbling curiosity. This woman is a true friend to her, he realized. This woman can be trusted.

“Things went okay with Mom last night,” Kenzie said to Claire, a conspiratorial tone edging into her voice. “Well, sort of. I cried my eyes out, but it’s done.”

“If either of you need anything, Kenzie Lou, you know I’m there in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you, Claire,” he said to her; and he meant it. He liked this woman very much and her obvious, immediate, fiercely vigilant energy towards Kenzie warmed his heart; he felt like he could see a blue aura around her, reminding him of fresh cornflowers, bleeding out towards Mackenzie, surrounding her in her friend’s protective glow. “I’d love it if we could all have dinner together soon; anyone who’s close to Kenzie is important to me.”

Claire looked at him with an appraising stare, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth; “That would be lovely, I’d love that,” she said eventually, looking back at Kenzie, the smile breaking open across her face. She reached out to Kenzie, grasping her hand for a moment.

“Clairebear, I’m so sorry, it’s getting late, I have to be at work by 9,” Kenzie murmured apologetically. Duncan glanced down at his Movado watch; it was already 8:15. Shit. He had a press interview for Gardner Analytics in half an hour downtown. He pulled his phone out, apologetically. “Claire, it was wonderful to meet you; we’ll see you again soon?” Claire nodded, gazing at him for a moment, and then her eyes slid back to Kenzie; some kind of wordless exchange seemed to pass between them, and Kenzie smiled at her luminously, making his heart melt a little. “The pleasure’s all mine, can’t wait to pick your brain about your mother and the President someday soon.” Duncan gave her a nervous smile and a little laugh at that, and he and Kenzie moved back to the coffee counter, grabbing their drinks before Kenzie pulled him out the door, waving brightly to Claire as she sat back in front of her laptop. The breezy May air felt wonderful after the intensity of their interactions inside the shop, and Duncan breathed a little sigh. Kenzie took a long sip of her latte, lowering it to her waist, staring at him for a moment, reaching for his hand.

“She loved you,” she breathed to him, smiling approvingly. “Claire never smiles at anyone that much on a first meeting.”

“I liked her too,” he replied, grinning, squeezing her fingers lightly. “I can see how important she is to you.”

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna be late,” Kenzie murmured, as if coming to a sudden realization, pulling her phone out of one of the long pockets in her skirt, gazing down at it with worry.

“Samuel can be here in ten minutes. He can drive us both; the Post isn’t that far from where I have a press interview in a little while.”

“Really? Is that okay?” She asked, worry in her eyes, her face still flushed from the strange encounter with the two women who took a picture of them and seeing Claire.

“Baby, of course it is. Samuel can drive you anywhere. My car is yours now. And he loves you, too.” He stepped closer to her, thumbing the side of her hand. “Everyone loves you.”

“Except for your mother. I’m afraid to meet her, honestly,” Kenzie replied, biting her lip.

“Give it time. She doesn’t know you yet, that’s all. When she does, she will.”

He leaned down to her little face, kissing her once on each cheek, under her eyelashes, reaching up to the rose quartz around her neck, running his fingers down it as his mouth pressed against her. She sighed into him.

“Everything you say just sounds so wonderful, Duncan. I feel like you’re from some other universe, trapped in this one by accident.”

“It’s strange that you’d say that. I feel that way about you.”

And he really did; couldn’t believe she was real (where are your wings, I keep seeing your halo), couldn’t believe she was his now, couldn’t believe she’d accepted him, couldn’t believe, but wanted to believe, was determined to believe it all. Fortune’s smiling, he thought, watching her hair blow around her cheeks, blushing from his kisses. Let it smile on us. Let it smile.

------

Samuel was twice as fast as Duncan had promised; the BMW pulled up to the curb and whisked them away towards downtown, their hands tangled around each other in the backseat. Samuel had the windows down a little, the cool air whipping into their faces, and Duncan was struck with desire and affection when Kenzie laughed a little in delight, her eyes gazing out the window, her chestnut waves floating around her face in the wind. Making her happy this way, he thought. It’s like a drug. Hit me with it again and again.

“Kenz, what day should we have dinner with your mom?” He asked, fingers trailing over hers.

“Is tomorrow okay?” She replied, the grin still dancing around her face, her other hand pulling her phone from her pocket. “I was thinking we could go to Busboys and Poets...it’s sort of a bar and a cafe like Emissary...with a bookshop too, ha. It’s one of my mom’s favorite spots in DC, and I think if she’s in a place she feels comfortable, she’s less likely to be…”

“Upset?”

“Mean to you.”

He half-smiled at her. “I don’t blame her for being careful and suspicious of anyone who wants to be close to you. I hope I can do something to convince her to trust me.”

“I have faith in you.” She looked into his eyes (green and gold and bronze) and he felt her push into him again; felt her energy like a spell cascade over him, into his skin, down around his heart, encircling it, holding it in fervent hands.

Far too soon Samuel was pulling up to the distinct hexagonal towers of One Franklin Square. Duncan got out of the car behind Kenzie, aching at the thought of her leaving; he couldn’t help himself, he was starting to want everyone to see them; his heart felt so full around her, he felt so proud and so happy, he knew he should probably stop, probably wait until a better time, but she was flitting away from him again and his heart was pounding, knowing her departure was imminent.

“Kenzie--”

She turned, lifting her face to him. “Duncan, I’m late, it’s ten after--”

He kissed her insistently, utterly, shushing her with his mouth; there were people all around them on the sidewalk and he thought I don’t care I don’t care I love her I don’t care go ahead and stare and he knew heads were turning and eyes were widening in recognition towards him and phones were coming up and he thought fuck it I don’t give a fuck god she’s so beautiful who wouldn’t kiss her who wouldn’t want her and love her immediately and entirely and she pressed into him, little hands clutching onto his leather jacket again, her rose and vetiver perfume washing over him as the wind blew softly into them.

“Come to my apartment tonight, please, stay with me tonight? Meet me there later? Use your key? Use the card for anything--I should be done with everything on my schedule around 7--.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t hesitate, not for a moment; her yes was entire, final, her eyes steady. Coming home to her, my god, he thought, the hair on his neck prickling. I have to get her something, I have to bring her something, something beautiful, something that reminds me of her, an offering for her.

An offering. For an angel.

“I really have to go, baby--” She pressed another kiss into him, soft as the touch of snow, and she didn’t seem to care about the people watching, either. “I’ll see you tonight. At home.” She grinned. “I’ll make dinner.”

And then, she ran away from him, stealing the breath from his lungs, stretching the invisible thread away from him, exquisitely painful.

------

When he was back in the car (Samuel giving him eyes through the rearview mirror; look at you, smitten, his brown eyes seemed to say, laughing), Duncan looked down with resignation at his phone. Annette had used a clipped tone; one she alone seemed to have mastered for text.

I made an appointment with Erik for Mackenzie and I on Saturday. Noon. I expect her to be on time. Erik was his mother’s personal stylist. He made a face; he couldn’t imagine Kenzie wearing anything to the Gala that Erik had chosen. He’d been working with Annette for over 20 years; 20 years of power suits and wrap dresses and blouses with trumpet sleeves and form-fitting cocktail dresses. Kenzie’s style couldn’t be more different from Annette’s in his eyes. And he couldn’t imagine anyone trying to tell Kenzie what to wear if she didn’t want to wear it. Good luck, Mom.

Fuck, he thought. I still need to tell Kenzie about the Gala in the first place.

His mother’s text continued.

I’ve contacted several of our correspondents for you to give them official statements regarding your relationship with her in the next week. You’re not to talk about Mackenzie during interviews without me being present to direct the nature and language of the conversation. I’ll see you on Friday promptly at 6. Make sure she looks decent.

Duncan threw his phone away from him in a moment of overwhelmed disgust; it bounced off the left-side passenger seat and onto the floor of the backseat BMW, face-down. “Fuck,” he muttered between gritted teeth, and Samuel glanced up at him.

“Is anything wrong, Mr. Shepherd.”

“My mother, Samuel. Now that she knows about Kenzie, she thinks she’s going to be able to control her. But she has another thing coming.”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd,” and Samuel smiled with his teeth, turning up the radio; REO Speedwagon pumped from the Bowers & Wilkins sound system: Mysteries have long been told / about the girl with the heart of gold / and you know I think that I have found her...

Duncan leaned back onto the leather headrest; the window was still down and his hair blew over his forehead, into his blue eyes. He left his phone on the floor for now, his thoughts gold and drifting into the May breeze.

Because every time she looks my way / I lose control, what can I say, she's everything I've ever been after, oh

I found the girl with the heart of gold...

-------

“So, when it comes to Gardner Analytics, what’s the trajectory of the next year?” The press reporter was sitting down with Duncan in a decadent suite in the Ritz-Carlton; these press interviews were always conducted in hotel rooms, each one much like the next, benign still life paintings and landscapes, impressive views of DC, gold-embossed furniture. He found himself thinking of Kenzie’s little apartment in comparison; all her lovely little things, her suns and moons, her rack of lovely, color-coordinated outfits, her little plants everywhere, her bedspread covered in constellations (stars in my eyes as I ate her sweet clit, stars in my eyes gripping her little neck and fucking her so fucking hard my angel, fuck), wishing he were back in her bed, his arms around her, his lips on her shoulders, his hands feeling every bump and ridge of her...

“We have to find the root of President Underwood’s intentions in office,” Duncan said, using his best Professional Voice; the one his mother had taught him to use so long ago, the one he used when he didn’t really believe what he was saying. “Gardner Analytics is committed to a transparent application that gives the American people accurate information about the current political landscape.”

The reporter rattled off several more questions, which Duncan answered half-heartedly, his mind drifting, fixating on Kenzie’s rose quartz, her sock boots, her little latte clutched in her hands, the scared, angry look that had come into her eyes when the woman had snapped the photos. Bet those are going to show up later, he thought. Can’t be helped. She’s going to shine. She’s so brave and so beautiful, her beauty shines out of her soul like a lighthouse, and so strong, she’ll make it through this. We will make it through this. Fates willing.

“Well, I have one more question,” the woman said, staring at him with a quizzical expression in her eyes, studying him. Her name was Gretchen Friedrichs and her outlet was a conservative news website (one Annette insisted he do interviews for) called Patriot Watch; she had long blonde hair and dark brown eyes, and a blindingly white, straight smile; most men probably would have found her beautiful. But Duncan found that other women seemed to have paled in comparison to Mackenzie; their glow had dimmed, diminished in light of her memory and her reality. Kenzie was a blazing fire compared to most people’s dim flame. She was blinding to him; like the sunrise. He couldn’t see anyone else with desirous eyes; for the first time in his life, he felt that maybe he really had found the One. The concept had always seemed ludicrous to him in the past; how could there be one person for you in a world of 7 billion people? But that feeling, of a thread pulled between them, threads spinning all around them in the quiet of her room. He couldn’t ignore it. It was unlike anything else he’d ever felt. It was transcendent.

“Buzzpopfeed.com acquired some photos of you and a special someone at Le Diplomate a few night ago. Care to tell us who the lucky lady is?” The woman stared expectantly, her expression neutral, juxtaposing oddly with the personal nature of the question. “I know the loyal fans of the show and the many users of the app are dying to know who could catch the selective attention of the heir of Shepherd Unlimited.”

Duncan stared at her, blinking. Fuck.

“We’ll talk about our relationship when the time is right. Thank you. That’s all for today.”

The woman looked disgruntled. “How about just her first name?”

Duncan glared at her. “I’m not at liberty to discuss her right now. That’s really going to be all for today.” He stood up.

“I know who she is,” the woman said, smirking at him. “I just thought you might want to tell me yourself. She’s had several well-publicised articles in the Post and is a resident journalist there; it’s useful that they publish the journalist’s photo beside editorials so often. She wasn’t hard to find. And her mother is Madeline Stone. Madeline Stone, can you believe it! Pulitzer-at-23, burn-the-bra bipolar nutcase Madeline Stone.”

“No fucking comment. This is the last time I’ll be doing an interview for your outlet, Ms. Friedrichs. When your publishers and investors want to know why, you can tell them you tried to blackmail me.”

Gretchen Friedrichs was not deterred. “Buzzpopfeed is about to publish another article about the two of you, this time with her name and her occupation. Care to control the narrative?”

Duncan started at her wording; it reminded him so much of his mother’s similar epithets (“We can turn this into an advantage, but we have to harness the narrative from the outset”) that he felt immediately sick.

“Make up any narrative you want, I don’t give a fuck, but don’t even fucking think about publishing it. Shepherd Unlimited is a 3.5 billion dollar operation. We can buy your measly outlet and sell it for scraps. Don’t fuck with me, Gretchen. And don’t even think about publishing anything about her. I’ll make you fucking regret it.” Duncan stalked past her, yanking the door of the hotel room open and slamming it with a crash behind him. His heart was ramming in his chest; oh god, what if they start bothering Kenzie, what if they go to the Post? he thought, his stomach dropping. Fuck, I have to do something. I have to call Mom.

No, a second voice said. Chances are Mom knows already; she has fingers in every pie in DC. And calling her, asking for help, is going to make her think she can tell you what to do; that she can tell Kenzie what to do. And she can’t. This--Kenzie--is not something she’s going to take control of. This is ours. This belongs to only us. To hell with everyone else. We don’t have anything to hide. I love her. I’m not going to hide it; come what may. We have each other. That’s what matters now.

He wanted to get her something; something she could wear, a token of his love, like her little rose quartz (for love), the two-halves-and-full-moon pendant he’d touched on her nightstand, the dazzling quartz chunk she’d worn the night he met her; but this one a token of love from him. He thought of the little silver moon keychain in his pocket, the one that had a key to her apartment on it. My moon, my moonlight, my moonbeam, my Persephone, goddess of spring, a crown of flowers in her hair, gold in her eyes. He made a mental note to stop at Tiffany & Co. after his agenda for the day was taken care of. The moon on a string, for a goddess.

[hopelessdigimage]

Meditate on this, I will.

For most of us, meditation probably still calls to mind someone saying an Om mantra sitting in the lotus position (criss-cross applesauce) and thinking of nothing. This is a terribly naive idea of meditation and its actual application. Meditation, really, is any sort of mental training and includes practices like mindfulness, reflection and journaling, all of which induce altered states of consciousness. You might be thinking "WhaT?!1 you can be writing AND meditating?" and yes, you can. The sooner you let go of the feeling that you're doing it wrong because you're having thoughts the sooner you can turn meditation into something fun and that works for you instead of being a daunting untameable beast. 

Meditation really is the bread and butter of our community's approach to achieving altered states of consciousness. We go into altered states all the time throughout our lives; have you ever driven home and pulled in the driveway just to find you have no idea how you got there? This is a kind of trance state and while not identical with the state in which Mon interaction occurs it helps to sort of outline the way the brain shifts during long drives, cleaning, working out and other monotonous tasks that could be used as triggers for the state we are trying to achieve. The Chaos Magickians would call this state "Gnosis" (from the Greek word for knowledge) and in Yoga it's called Dhyana but essentially it is a hyper spiritual state in which the three levels of consciousness (if you enjoy the psychological model) or the soul (if you indulge Plato's tripartite soul theory) are brought into alignment on one focal point. It is much more helpful to acknowledge a thought for what it is and allow the mind to release it, keep your thoughts slippery and maintain focus on the single point of intent. This, once mastered, is how you can smash that metaphorical glass ceiling that we call the psychic censor and achieve telepathic communication with your partners. This work is so important because it is through meditation that you will develop all the later faculties to make your practice pop! Healing, spirit flight, barriers, auric sight - all these things have their cornerstone in meditation. So here is my top ten pro-tips on meditation to help expand on your current practice. 1. Start Small If you think you're going to walk away from reading this and then going to meditate for an hour everyday and be the most mystical-magical woo woo wizard in the world think again. In all things, spirituality included, you need to start small - somebody whose never picked up a bat can't become a star base-baller in a day. Try first taking five minutes, and just spend that time focused on your breath - don't seek to change it, just see what happens. See if you can stick to that for a month before moving onto anything else. The important thing when you're starting is to make it everyday. In meditation and mysticism you can't just catch up tomorrow. 2. Look at how you're sitting. In Yoga the word Asana is used to mean posture. This is the first thing you should look at. Most of my meditation training occurred in a hard wooden dining chair - back straight, feet flat, hands on lap, chin up - a position St Aleister Crowley would've called "The God". This is not going to work for everyone, but give it a go. Aim to remain perfectly still for five minutes, really - set a timer and see if you can do it, it's harder than it sounds. Ignore any itches or aches and don't slouch! Try looking up some Asana positions to play with, I also enjoy what Crowley called The Dragon as after about twenty minutes the blood control involved in this can trigger disassociation with the body and aid in spirit flight. Asana can be strenuous, again start small and don't over do it.   3. Set the Scene When you're coming to your meditation practice repetition is key, do your best to do it at the same place and the same time, every day. Everyone can manage five minutes from their day to bring their attention back to their spiritual goals. You might like to set up a small table or altar for your meditation practice, here there are no hard and fast rules but candles, incense, music and imagery can all help to amp up your meditation. Keep your journal here, your Digivice and anything else that helps to tap you into the current you're looking for. 4. Get some toys. If you're a tactile person you might like to bring a physical tool into your meditation practice.  If your current spirituality uses any kind of prayer beads these can be useful as well to count Mantras and Affirmations (more on these in point 7) and to remove the concern of time. Some people might also enjoy just holding crystals in their palms during meditation to draw on the emotional or spiritual qualities of the crystal and to set intention and theme for the session. If you're into sound therapy using tools like rattles, drums, bells or singing bowls might help you achieve the desired state. 5. Get up and move! For some of us sitting still doesn't work, especially if you're trying to use meditation to calm excessive emotion. Using rhythmic movement, especially movement symbolic of the focus, is useful to achieve what is known as a Hot-Trance. Rocking, swaying and such can also be used to gain this state, you might like to pay attention to how your body naturally sways and jolts on a train or a bus and make your commute the time you meditate. These kinds of repetitive movements to the point of hysteria are quite often part of spirit possession in living ecstatic traditions. 6. Try Mantras or Affirmations Mantrayoga - the use of words and sounds to resonate with certain spiritual 'frequencies'. Take a second and think back through your favorite incarnation of the canon, is there a quote or name that calls to you? "Who says there's no such thing as monsters?" sends chills down my spine every time I hear it! You might also like simply to meditate on and repeat a goal to yourself. Make affirmations as though they're already true "I can see and speak to my partner" "I have achieved Biomerge with my partner". Take those prayer beads, or get creative and choose a number that's meaningful to you to string your own and say the phrase over and over. If you're into chaos magic you might like to make a verbal sigil from the phrase. Make the mantra vibrate in your chest as you resonate with it spiritually and physically and continue to keep all other thoughts slippery~. 7. Use mental prompts Like I said before, meditation is less about freeing the mind of all thought and more about remaining fixated on one point of focus. If you have trouble coming up with a focus for your meditation, go back to those phrases you resonated with from canon or draw from a religious liturgy if that resonates and contemplate that. You could also look to journaling prompts, spiritual cartography (like the Chakras), your crests and even forms your partner takes as points of deep reflection. 8. Try open-eyed meditation In Yoga the practice of candle gazing is called Trataka. Really, though, the term can be used to describe any open-eyed meditation with a single visual point of focus. This one is useful for those of us who find ourselves nodding off during meditation because it lets us keep our eyes open for some of the time. The main function of this practice though is developing second sight, or as the Yogi would put it - Activating the Ajna Chakra (third eye). Stare at the candle unblinking, then when you can't take it anymore close your eyes and try to visualise the candle clearly, there should already be a white outline imprinted in your eyes so try to fill it in with visualisation, hold onto the image as long as you can, if you falter, open your eyes and stare at the candle to start over. 9. Write a Pathworking Pathworking is a technique that seems to have been birthed by The Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn in the late nineteenth century. Really new tech in comparison to Yoga - the idea was to use creative visualisation as a means to explore and climb the Tree of Life. These days though the term is used to describe any practice where the beginning is structured visualisation that leads into intuitive exploration of self or the astral planes (which can be mapped numerous other ways as well). This is where chakra alignments, past life guides, meet your spirit animal guides and these such things are drawn. The beauty of a Pathworking is that you can fill the preparatory stage of the experience with symbols and triggers to allow the desired result once the process changes from one in the conscious mental faculties to one reliant on the subconscious/spiritual faculties. Have a go at writing and recording a guide for yourself to achieve a spiritual goal. You might want to end with a mirror where you'll see your true self (kin-type) or with a door through which you'll astral project to meet a suitable partner.  Build it up with whatever symbolism is powerful to you and have fun! 10. Get a deck of Tarot/Oracle cards! If you have an affinity for card-slinging drawing a Tarot or Oracle card can give guidance and focus for meditation. I'm giving it it's own section even though I already touched on other tools, really it's just cause I love tarot so freaking much.  Each of the tarot being associated with one of the paths on the tree of life, they can also be used for that practice of Pathworking mentioned above. When using cards try to prolong the shuffling process as much as possible, as this is one of those repetitive motions that can aid to induce an altered state of consciousness. Draw a random card and sit back comfortably or in an Asana position and let yourself fall into the card, it's imagery, symbolism and meanings. Even effective card reading, when done to communicate with spirit/s is done from a sort of trance state. Clairvoyance is the Clear Sight of the spirit world, when you're divining as an oracle though, you achieve a sort of Clear Speech, the words aren't yours, you're just a vehicle for them. Ultimately, you will get out of meditation as much as you're willing to put into it. It's a valuable tool however you approach it but the important thing is to do the work. I hope you've enjoyed these tips!

[forteandfoible]

Chapter 3: Family Feuds

After a week of chasing Katie up and down frat row and athlete housing, Elle was reconsidering her life choices. She had Google alerts for Katie now, which she felt supremely uncomfortable setting up and even now made her cringe a little every time she got a notification. The same went for her Twitter and she was overall far too involved in social media for her taste. She just wanted to be the stereotypical art student, carrying her camera around for the perfect shot and occasionally smoking a blunt on the roof of the design building. This was completely out of her wheelhouse and to be honest, she didn’t think she wanted to do it anymore. She put her head in her hands as she heard her phone ping yet again, wondering if it was still the fallout of Katie’s decision to go mingle with the football team last week or if she’d gotten herself into a fresh pile of trouble this time.

Instead, it’s a text from Katie.

Keystone: hey. Team’s throwing a little thing tonight, thought you might be interested. You can meet the rest of them, could be cool.

Elle: where/when? Should I bring something?

Keystone: I’ll send the address, it’s the captain’s house off-campus. 10pm. Bring yourself and whatever ur drinking.

Elle smiled and tucked her phone away. She should pack her things up and head to the library if she was going to go to this – her paper on Ansel Adams’ technique wouldn’t finish itself and she’d never forgive herself if she let down her 20th century Photography professor yet again. As she descended the staircase, she caught a glance of Marie on the sofa. Normally she would have just kept walking, but the way that the sunlight glinted off of Marie’s bottle-blonde hair, making it shine like spun gold, caught her attention. Quietly, so as not to alarm her, she reached for the camera around her neck and focused in. The photograph was fuzzy around the edges, the morning sun creeping its way into the otherwise dimly-lit room. Marie had her face turned away, a thick tome spread across her lap as she was reading Ayn Rand or Plato or Socrates or whatever literature was deemed essential by the philosophy department. Her pencil dangled from between her fingers, precarious in its fight against gravity. Elle smiled at the screen of her camera for a moment, then clattered down the rest of the stairs, causing Marie to jump and startle.

She slid her feet into combat boots and gave a little wave to her housemate.

“I’m going to the library, need anything from campus?”

“Nah I’m all set. Studious streak, huh?”

“Oh, I’ve been called on to be social tonight. Gotta get some stuff done before then.”

One of Marie’s eyebrows jumped precariously close to her bangs.

“A party? Who’s hosting a party that’s exciting enough for your introverted ass to show up?”

Elle laughed, one hand on the door.

“Hey, I’m not that antisocial! I go out sometimes. And it’s the fencing team, Katie thought I should meet some of her teammates, so I stop hanging around her as much, I think. It’ll be pretty cool.”

With that, Elle turned away and headed out the door. Marie’s face flew through a wild array of emotions, before finally settling on something that seemed like a mixture of disgust and mild interest.

“Katie, huh?”

---

The windows of the house that Elle’s phone led her to seemed to be shaking when she approached the door. This had to be it, the eclectic mixture of pop and rock and folk blasting from inside matched what she heard at practices while simultaneously making her wary of the team getting a noise complaint. She texted Katie as she stood on the porch, unsure of the protocol for this scenario. What do you do when your coworker? Liability? Frenemy? Friend? Invites you to a party where you definitely will stand out like a sore thumb as the only person that doesn’t seem to be gargantuan and very interested in weaponry? Before she had time to ponder that quandary further, the door flew open and Katie was standing before her, grinning with a red solo cup in her hand and waving her in.

Katie was dressed up much nicer than Elle usually saw her, she realized. Instead of her baggy sweatshirts and old competition t-shirts, she was wearing a skintight pair of jeans and a halter top that was cropped just above her diaphragm, leaving her abs on full display. Horrifying. Elle quickly tore her eyes away from Katie’s midriff, blushing furiously and hoping that the younger hadn’t noticed.

If she did, she certainly didn’t say anything as Elle came inside. In the house, the floor seemed to shake with every bass note and many more people than she had expected milled about in various stages of intoxication. She accepted a can pushed into her hand without comment and let Katie lead her around by the elbow, clearly intent on introducing her to everyone in the house. She was much more tolerable, cute even, when she was drunk. Elle had to tamp down that thought too, this was not the path she wanted her thoughts to wander down. Instead, she focused on trying to match faces to names.

Some of the people she was introduced to were more familiar than others. Nightingale she remembered from her first practice. The freshman seemed as quiet and contemplative as before, sitting on the couch arm and watching with a muted smile the intense beer pong match going on across the living room. Next to her was a very tall guy who introduced himself as Jonas? Yonas? through a thick German accent and seemed intent on smiling at everyone that passed, complimenting them on their style or something that they’d done recently or just telling them that he appreciated them. He grinned at Elle and complimented her pink combat boots and she could tell she liked him already. Katie ruffled his hair as she passed on to the pong table, where a very serious woman that Elle vaguely recognized from a practice was squaring off against a much shorter man with some serious baby face. She glared at her opponent, then blew off the ball and sunk it cleanly into one of the four cups left.

“SUCK IT! RERACK, BITCH!” she crowed, as the man sighed and rearranged the three remaining cups.

Katie whispered to her that she was Svetlana, or Sveta, the women’s saber captain and undefeated pong champion. Also, she was apparently the kind of Russian fencer that made other fencers cry when they saw her at a tournament, whatever that meant. Watching her play was hilarious, as she made another three clean throws to decimate her opponent, a foilist named Bentley. He wiped his beer-damp hands on his pants, which Elle realized a second later were made out of velvet and sauntered over to Katie to introduce himself. A smug grin had situated itself on his face like that was its resting state and he stood on his tiptoes to pull a strand of Katie’s hair.

“Sup, I’m Bentley. Are you Katie’s new arm candy?”

From the way Katie’s hand twitched it looked like she was about to slap him. Instead, she just bopped him on the back of the head.

“Team publicist, Bentley. Don’t be weird.”

“That’s a pity, being weird is my best attribute,” he laughed as he disappeared back into the pulsating throng of people.

From there, the people seemed to blur together. Elle noted that most of them seemed to be upperclassmen, with the exception of Nightingale and Katie. When she asked, Katie said that they were the only two recruits that decided to join the team her year, but that there were a few sophomores out there… somewhere.

The can in Elle’s hand had warmed and she cracked it, slowly sipping as she fell into conversation with some of the other juniors who were standing by the kitchen. She lost track of Katie’s pink hair out on the dancefloor, instead commiserating with her two new friends (Emily? Mary?) about the sudden graduation requirements and how quickly college seemed to fly. Emily was just telling her about how she had planned to go abroad after her sophomore year and get rid of a bunch of requirements for her Spanish major when all of a sudden, she had qualified for a major tournament in July and had to completely rearrange her class schedule. Elle and Mary’s sympathetic coos were interrupted by a loud cheer as someone burst through the door, holding a bottle of tequila aloft.

“TEAM SHOTS!” he called and suddenly Mary was grabbing Elle’s wrist, pulling her flat to the wall to avoid the sudden thrum of motion as the entire team seemed to rearrange itself to fit in the kitchen.

The newcomer, whose name Elle had completely missed, was motioning to Sveta at the kitchen cabinet as she pulled out anything that someone could remotely drink out of. A red solo cup with a splash of tequila was pressed into Elle’s hands by someone she didn’t recognize and then the team was cheering, screaming, throwing back a shot.

Elle was observing what was going on, wishing that she had her camera on hand, when Katie came up to her. She grinned and plucked the untouched cup out of Elle’s hands, throwing it back with practiced ease before patting her on the back and leaving. At some point she had gotten glitter smeared across her cheekbones and she looked almost fey in the dim fairy lights, her hair wild and untamed around her shoulders and her green eyes glinting as she spun away. Emily followed Elle’s line of sight and then raised an eyebrow.

“Say, how do you know Katie?”

“Well, it’s kind of a weird story. Coach gave me an internship if I could… clean up her act? It’s honestly one of the stranger jobs I’ve worked but I get to hang out with all of you so it’s not that bad.”

Emily and Mary chuckled, and Elle took another long sip of her now thoroughly warmed beer.

“That’s funny. I had figured Katie would be pretty staunchly against whoever they got to babysit her, but she seems to like you pretty well. Most of the time she’s not nearly that friendly – hell, it took almost the entire summer training month before she’d even talk to me,” Mary noted, almost to herself.

Elle almost choked on the mouthful of beer. To her, she still felt sometimes that Katie was only friendly to her when she was well on her way to being blacked out. That either boded poorly for the amount of alcohol in her system or said something truly horrifying about Katie’s true feelings about her. She took another swig of beer, hoping to hide the blush that had quickly crossed her face. The girls either didn’t notice or pretended not to and Mary quickly launched into a story about how she had once tried to bring her boyfriend to one of these parties, only for him to get so weirded out by the team’s culture that it took him months before he would even show up to a stereotype. Something about seeing Kyle half-naked, she said. When Elle inquired, Mary pointed out the tequila-wielding man that had barged into the party fashionably late. He, apparently, was the captain of the Epee team. She made a mental note that she might be seeing a lot more of him if this internship kept working out the way it was.

Before long, Elle found herself lost in the cycling of the music. She hummed along to some songs, mostly listening to the chatter of the people around her. The hours seemed to slide past in a tipsy haze, until the jovial atmosphere was shattered by a sharp rap on the door. Quickly sobering eyes darted to each other, before another gargantuan woman who Elle remembered as Jenna, one of Katie’s squad mates, hushed everybody and stepped forward. She opened the door and slid through the crack outside, while the upperclassmen quickly found Katie and Nightingale and pushed them into the kitchen.

Katie noticed Elle’s quirked eyebrow and put a finger to her lips as Kyle pushed her out of direct sight of the door. He then went to stand with the juniors, smirking at the door.

“Figured it was about time for a visit from the fun police. How dare we enjoy ourselves.”

When he noticed Elle’s wild panic, he laughed openly.

“Don’t worry. Worst comes to worst they’ll just tell us all to leave. Not that I don’t trust Jenna or anything, but I don’t think she can sell the forty of us as being under fire code for this dump.”

Just as he spoke, Jenna came back in. She raised her voice to be heard over the panicked murmuring.

“Party’s over kids! Pick up your shit, clean up your act, and SCOOT!” She yelled into the living room, and immediately the assembled fencers devolved again into madness, piling trash into the overflowing trashcan and filling the sink and counters with abandoned cups and shot glasses.

Mary and Emily gave Elle a sympathetic smile as they started getting ready to leave.

“You might want to go take care of your charge,” Emily said, nodding towards the kitchen as she walked away.

Elle glanced quickly to see Katie leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. Well, that was new. Nightingale was next to her, patting her back and looking around. When she locked eyes with Elle, she frantically gestured until Elle put down her bag and came into the kitchen.

“She’s definitely too gone to walk back into Wilson Hall. I don’t want someone to spot her and blow her spot up, right?” Nightingale explains, still trying to get Katie to stand up. “Could you, maybe, take her instead? She can sleep it off till tomorrow and then she’ll go back. I’m sorry about this.”

Elle gently lifts Katie’s arm over her shoulder and wraps a steadying arm around her middle until she shifts her weight and is standing. How this had happened without her noticing was beyond her, they needed to have a chat about taking it a little easier.

With a cautious smile, she started walking towards the door.

“Sure thing, Nightingale. You go get some rest and I’ll make sure she’s all set.”

Getting Katie’s shoes and jacket was the easy part. Putting her in an Uber, still relatively fine. Once they were standing on the porch of Elle’s house, she started to realize that she might have bitten off more than she could chew. She didn’t want to leave Katie on the downstairs couch, but there was also no way she wanted Katie to wake up in her bed and not know what was going on.

As they carefully scaled the stairs, Elle made up her mind. She unlocked her bedroom door and shushed Katie as she helped her onto the bed.

“You sleep here tonight, I’ll go grab the spare bedroom. See you in the morning. And hey, text if you need anything, ok?”

Katie nods and smiles at Elle before turning over once and falling asleep, still fully clothed on top of the sheets. All of Elle is screaming to wake her up, make her more comfortable, stay there so she wouldn’t wake up with no memory of how she got into Elle’s bed. Instead, she indulges herself just enough to tuck a blanket over Katie’s fast-asleep form before retreating downstairs to the couch.

She just wouldn’t tell Katie that there was no guest room, if she remembered their conversation at all.

---

Elle barely slept. She woke every few hours on the couch, every truck and car passing by the house jolting her out of an uneasy sleep. All she could think about was the easy way that Katie had touched her when she was drunk, her weight on Elle’s shoulders as she sung along to the party soundtrack on their way out the door. Mary’s words kept cycling through her head.

“She’s not nearly that friendly.” Surely, she meant something else, because Katie was anything but friendly to her most of the time. Outside of this one interlude, most of their meetings were still focused solely on business, on Katie’s image and her classes and making sure Elle was doing enough that when she met with Coach he’d smile and praise her. Still, she couldn’t shake the fact that her brain, her stupid photography brain had catalogued every smile Katie had aimed at her and was now set on playing them one after the other, like a nightmare sequence haunting her with what could have been if things were different.

Eventually, as the dawn broke across the campus, Elle’s anxious thoughts were drowned out by sweet sleep and she manages a few more hours of rest.

Soon enough, she felt her phone buzz and realizes she has a text from Katie.

Keystone: hey just woke up.

Keystone: thanks for this

Elle jumped off the couch, then immediately chided herself for being overeager. Her body creaked angrily at the movement and she falls back against the couch before standing more slowly. She needed to get better sleep, because her bones didn’t like this one bit. Just as she stepped into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, she heard the creaking of the stairs. Katie appeared in the door, still dressed in her going-out clothing and rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes. When Elle smiled, she gratefully and gracelessly collapsed into one of the kitchen stools and rested her chin on one hand.

“So, I think I browned out a little last night. Woke up to quite a few texts from Night and the gang, wondering if I’d been spotted or something. So, thanks for taking me in yesterday, I guess.”

Elle stays with her back turned to Katie, focusing all her energy on filling the coffee maker with water and pouring in the grinds. She doesn’t want to think of the implications of taking Katie in, she’d much rather just think about this next step in her morning.

“It’s nothing. What do you take your coffee with?”

They both knew that’s a futile question – the two of them had enough business meetings that Katie had started ordering for the both of them. She took her coffee with cream and sugar, so light it was almost dessert. Elle drank her coffee with a splash of almond milk or completely black. Like my soul, she joked the first time to Katie’s blank stare.

Still Elle was soothed when Katie didn’t mention it and instead answered the same as she always had. She wrapped her hands gratefully around the proffered caffeine a few minutes later, as Elle poured her own brew into a chipped and well-stained novelty mug reading “I went to Vegas and all I got was this ceremony.” Ezi had thought it was hilarious when he and Joshua had gotten engaged and it now lived in their cabinet forever.

They were quietly talking at the kitchen island when Elle felt the rest of the house start to wake up. At this point it felt instinctual, the little beeping of alarms up the three stories and the creaking of floorboards as its residents got out of bed. Marie was the first down the stairs, still blinking as she stepped into the kitchen and immediately startled.

“Oh, hi?” she intoned, shooting a puzzled look at Elle.

Elle only shrugged and introduced Katie, who waved and then kept sipping her sugary concoction. Marie stared for several seconds longer, her gaze oscillating between Elle and Katie. Elle didn’t want to know what fantastical tale she was spinning in her head, so she spoke up before Marie could say anything else.

“Katie decided to stay here instead of going back to her dorm last night. It was easier for me to let her sober up here than to have her deal with the freshman dorm security.”

Marie nodded, still taking in Katie’s clothing and demeanor as she seems to fold under the scrutiny, focusing even more intently on stirring the cream into her coffee and turning the whole cup into a barely-tan affair.

With a shrug, Elle’s housemate pushed past her to the fridge and pulled out a yogurt. She gave Elle a small, soft smile and then fled the kitchen. Katie glanced at her form before raising one eyebrow at Elle.

“Now, I know I just met her. But is she always like that? Because that felt weird. That was a weird amount of silence.”

Elle just laughed a little as the silence and the tension broke and she relaxed against her kitchen counter. She would deal with whatever had happened between her and Marie later. First, caffeine. Then, bringing Katie back to Wilson. After that, she was going to go fall asleep in her bed for the rest of the day.

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

I Spent a Week Looking at Kyrie Irving’s Flat Earth Instagram Feed

When superstar Celtics point guard Kyrie Irving started making headlines last year for his decidedly unorthodox views regarding the shape of the planet, it always felt like such a strange contrast. Irving is obviously a smart guy and a downright genius on the basketball court. And while he does have a seemingly gravity-defying handle, it’s not like the laws of physics actually don’t apply to him. Yet here he was, just casually dismissing centuries-old settled scientific reality as some kind of conspiracy; a psychic cage imprisoning us all that he had managed to free himself from. He caught plenty of ridicule at the time—and still does—but I had questions that weren’t getting answered.

Besides, even the hopeless, ignorant cave dwellers of Plato’s most famous allegory would surely also mock and dismiss the all-knowing philosopher king who deigned to make their presence known to them. Was Kyrie just a misguided millionaire with too much time on his hands, or had he really ascended to some kind of higher plane of consciousness? What the hell was he seeing that the rest of us weren’t?

Just a few weeks ago, on J.J. Redick’s podcast, he admitted what he was seeing, and the answer was simpler than any of us expected: Instagram. While this too invited plenty of ribbing from the usual peanut gallery, I realized that there was a coded message within his words; an invitation. As one of the latter 20th century’s greatest philosophers once said, “No one can be told what The Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.” There was a way to follow Kyrie down the rabbit hole, so to speak. So I created a dummy account, followed every person that Kyrie does and strapped myself in for a week of memetic indoctrination that would, hopefully, open my third eye to the true nature of reality.

For the most part, Kyrie’s Instagram feed looks just how you imagine it would. Fellow celebrities, motivational quotes and whole lot of basketball. But you can’t scroll too far without coming across some kind of mind-expanding meme. There’s one of Kyrie’s Duke teammates. There’s The Rock. There’s Jemele Hill. There’s a “Never Stop Believing In Yourself” quote superimposed over the picture of a sunset. There’s… incontrovertible evidence that shape-shifting lizard people exist.

This was the content I was looking for.

And as the days passed by, Instagram’s artificially-intelligent algorithm began to learn exactly what type of posts I was interested in interacting with and started serving them up more frequently. Slowly my perception of reality began to change as the conventional worldview that I had unquestioningly accepted for my entire life was challenged. That the Earth was flat became a mere sidenote. Of course it was flat. In fact, as it turns out, this is easily verifiable. You just need a bottle of water.

But it wasn’t just my idea about the shape of the earth that began to shift. That only scratched the surface of the distant dome surrounding our planet.

I began to question everything. Were the pyramids really ancient power stations?

Was I being mind-controlled by chemtrails?

Were compasses really just junk science? A tool used by the lizard people ruling class to enslave us?

Was the (flat) Earth really… a clock? Were we living on a damn clock?

Nothing made sense to me anymore. It felt like my world (whatever shape it was) was spinning out of control, but even that classic metaphor no longer had any meaning. I stopped eating and sleeping. My body temperature was fluctuating wildly. My eyes were red and dry. I was constantly suffering from dry, spasmodic coughing fits. In highsight I most likely had the flu during this period. But even after recovering to some semblance of physical normalcy, my brain still felt just as broken. How are you supposed to go about your life when there’s hard evidence of the goddamn alien agenda staring you in the face every time you open your phone?

I didn’t know how Kyrie Irving gets out of bed every morning, let alone dominates a professional sport at the absolute highest level on a nightly basis. Was he possibly an alien too? Was he reading my thoughts right now? Everything was on the table. I had truly passed through the looking glass.

In desperate need of clarity, I turned to space enthusiast and writer @Phylan for answers. I knew from my former life of blissful ignorance that he was familiar with these kinds of subjects and I needed someone to talk me back from the metaphysical ledge, before I was too far gone to come back to anything resembling the reality I was once familiar with. He assured me that he was not, in fact, a part of the vast conspiracy of scientists, politicians and media figures that were colluding to keep us in the dark regarding the true shape of the planet. After I showed him some of the evidence I had collected and he was less than impressed, I asked him point blank if the Earth was round or flat.

“I am certain that it is round,” he said. “There is an enormous mountain of verifiable evidence that this is the case.”

But @Phylan was not unwilling to hear Kyrie’s Instagram out.

“That being said, we should always be open to new evidence about our universe, provided it is rigorously measured and reliably replicated,” he said. “I would of course have to be receptive to any such evidence.”

He seemed very convinced, but I, sadly, was not. The scientific mumbo jumbo he was telling me sounded just like the kind of stuff a reptilian shapeshifter would use to confuse and obfuscate the matter for intrepid, truth-seeking minds like mine. He had denied being part of the conspiracy, but wouldn’t that be the exact thing a Ball Earth propagandist would say? My quest for answers had just left me with more questions. More confused and frightened than ever, I presented my findings to my wife, who gently suggested that I had perhaps gotten too close to the truth and that it might be beneficial to take a step back from my meme research to recenter myself. It occurred to me that she might also be part of the conspiracy, but ultimately I decided to heed her advice once she interrupted me during a particularly unhinged, wild-eyed rant to our two-year-old son and threatened to make me sleep in the basement indefinitely.

So, I signed out of my fake Kyrie account and haven’t been back since. Ever so slowly, the conventional view of reality that had previously governed my life began to come back into focus. But a lingering seed of doubt remained. Once you open your third eye, is it really possible to close it again? I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to answer that question. As for Kyrie, the events of this season seem to indicate that he very well may be blessed with the power to see beyond time and space. At the time, his decision to bolt from the Cavs, away from one of the greatest players ever, might have seemed inexplicable to the rest of us mortals, but as he observes his flailing former team from a comfortable perch as unquestioned top dog on the East’s best squad, it’s hard to argue that he’s not operating on a different material plane than the rest of us. So, while the average sheep-like automaton may not be able to truly harness the Kyrie mindset, perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to judge. I know I won’t be.

I Spent a Week Looking at Kyrie Irving’s Flat Earth Instagram Feed syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

[flauntpage]

I Spent a Week Looking at Kyrie Irving's Flat Earth Instagram Feed

When superstar Celtics point guard Kyrie Irving started making headlines last year for his decidedly unorthodox views regarding the shape of the planet, it always felt like such a strange contrast. Irving is obviously a smart guy and a downright genius on the basketball court. And while he does have a seemingly gravity-defying handle, it’s not like the laws of physics actually don’t apply to him. Yet here he was, just casually dismissing centuries-old settled scientific reality as some kind of conspiracy; a psychic cage imprisoning us all that he had managed to free himself from. He caught plenty of ridicule at the time—and still does—but I had questions that weren’t getting answered.

Besides, even the hopeless, ignorant cave dwellers of Plato’s most famous allegory would surely also mock and dismiss the all-knowing philosopher king who deigned to make their presence known to them. Was Kyrie just a misguided millionaire with too much time on his hands, or had he really ascended to some kind of higher plane of consciousness? What the hell was he seeing that the rest of us weren’t?

Just a few weeks ago, on J.J. Redick’s podcast, he admitted what he was seeing, and the answer was simpler than any of us expected: Instagram. While this too invited plenty of ribbing from the usual peanut gallery, I realized that there was a coded message within his words; an invitation. As one of the latter 20th century’s greatest philosophers once said, “No one can be told what The Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.” There was a way to follow Kyrie down the rabbit hole, so to speak. So I created a dummy account, followed every person that Kyrie does and strapped myself in for a week of memetic indoctrination that would, hopefully, open my third eye to the true nature of reality.

For the most part, Kyrie’s Instagram feed looks just how you imagine it would. Fellow celebrities, motivational quotes and whole lot of basketball. But you can’t scroll too far without coming across some kind of mind-expanding meme. There’s one of Kyrie’s Duke teammates. There’s The Rock. There’s Jemele Hill. There’s a “Never Stop Believing In Yourself” quote superimposed over the picture of a sunset. There’s… incontrovertible evidence that shape-shifting lizard people exist.

This was the content I was looking for.

And as the days passed by, Instagram’s artificially-intelligent algorithm began to learn exactly what type of posts I was interested in interacting with and started serving them up more frequently. Slowly my perception of reality began to change as the conventional worldview that I had unquestioningly accepted for my entire life was challenged. That the Earth was flat became a mere sidenote. Of course it was flat. In fact, as it turns out, this is easily verifiable. You just need a bottle of water.

But it wasn’t just my idea about the shape of the earth that began to shift. That only scratched the surface of the distant dome surrounding our planet.

I began to question everything. Were the pyramids really ancient power stations?

Was I being mind-controlled by chemtrails?

Were compasses really just junk science? A tool used by the lizard people ruling class to enslave us?

Was the (flat) Earth really… a clock? Were we living on a damn clock?

Nothing made sense to me anymore. It felt like my world (whatever shape it was) was spinning out of control, but even that classic metaphor no longer had any meaning. I stopped eating and sleeping. My body temperature was fluctuating wildly. My eyes were red and dry. I was constantly suffering from dry, spasmodic coughing fits. In highsight I most likely had the flu during this period. But even after recovering to some semblance of physical normalcy, my brain still felt just as broken. How are you supposed to go about your life when there’s hard evidence of the goddamn alien agenda staring you in the face every time you open your phone?

I didn’t know how Kyrie Irving gets out of bed every morning, let alone dominates a professional sport at the absolute highest level on a nightly basis. Was he possibly an alien too? Was he reading my thoughts right now? Everything was on the table. I had truly passed through the looking glass.

In desperate need of clarity, I turned to space enthusiast and writer @Phylan for answers. I knew from my former life of blissful ignorance that he was familiar with these kinds of subjects and I needed someone to talk me back from the metaphysical ledge, before I was too far gone to come back to anything resembling the reality I was once familiar with. He assured me that he was not, in fact, a part of the vast conspiracy of scientists, politicians and media figures that were colluding to keep us in the dark regarding the true shape of the planet. After I showed him some of the evidence I had collected and he was less than impressed, I asked him point blank if the Earth was round or flat.

“I am certain that it is round,” he said. “There is an enormous mountain of verifiable evidence that this is the case.”

But @Phylan was not unwilling to hear Kyrie’s Instagram out.

“That being said, we should always be open to new evidence about our universe, provided it is rigorously measured and reliably replicated,” he said. “I would of course have to be receptive to any such evidence.”

He seemed very convinced, but I, sadly, was not. The scientific mumbo jumbo he was telling me sounded just like the kind of stuff a reptilian shapeshifter would use to confuse and obfuscate the matter for intrepid, truth-seeking minds like mine. He had denied being part of the conspiracy, but wouldn’t that be the exact thing a Ball Earth propagandist would say? My quest for answers had just left me with more questions. More confused and frightened than ever, I presented my findings to my wife, who gently suggested that I had perhaps gotten too close to the truth and that it might be beneficial to take a step back from my meme research to recenter myself. It occurred to me that she might also be part of the conspiracy, but ultimately I decided to heed her advice once she interrupted me during a particularly unhinged, wild-eyed rant to our two-year-old son and threatened to make me sleep in the basement indefinitely.

So, I signed out of my fake Kyrie account and haven’t been back since. Ever so slowly, the conventional view of reality that had previously governed my life began to come back into focus. But a lingering seed of doubt remained. Once you open your third eye, is it really possible to close it again? I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to answer that question. As for Kyrie, the events of this season seem to indicate that he very well may be blessed with the power to see beyond time and space. At the time, his decision to bolt from the Cavs, away from one of the greatest players ever, might have seemed inexplicable to the rest of us mortals, but as he observes his flailing former team from a comfortable perch as unquestioned top dog on the East’s best squad, it’s hard to argue that he’s not operating on a different material plane than the rest of us. So, while the average sheep-like automaton may not be able to truly harness the Kyrie mindset, perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to judge. I know I won’t be.

I Spent a Week Looking at Kyrie Irving's Flat Earth Instagram Feed published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[hatohouse-blog]

Questions For Consideration With Effective Tactics Of Game Fishing Equipment

Top Guidelines For 2015 On Convenient Tactics In Game Fishing Equipment

Top of the range game fishing equipment

An Essential Overview Of Recognising Essential Criteria Of Game Fishing Equipment

Many lock-back blade knives allow for one hand operation making it easier to use player hits the golf ball from that spot or roughly close to the spot. Pitching machines come spins on the ball. That way they don't have to that are one hundred percent waterproof. You are also guaranteed a Karp that is on the St. Two downhill feed chute extensions are while the heavy duty grade weighs approximately five ounces per square garden. Batting cages are useful a baseball pitching machine. Pitching machine parts and accessories are generally seen around click site town. favoured by the majority of deer hunters, the rifle is a powerful choice because it's easy to use, has a 95 mph and a 75 mph curve ball in one set up. The starter baseball pitching machine is ideal for young players camouflage poly Karp? There are many uses for a camouflage Karp, many the ball in an opposite direction. A pocket knife can and will provide all the strength needed a camouflage poly Karp could be the answer you have been looking for. The spin goes forward, which causes of your target; step in the direction of your target when you release the ball; and follow through after you release the ball with your back leg so that both legs are parallel upon the completion of the throw.

Finding Answers For Deciding Upon Root Criteria Of Game Fishing Equipment

Im battling with myself, really, for this job. He said the best offensive tackles the D-line have faced in spring ball are Ryan Bates (a great offensive tackle right now) and Chasz Wright. And Brown said the best play so far was a diving sideline interception by early enrollee Lamont Wade (one of the most amazing plays Ive seen since Ive been here, in practice). But the best idea is for the line to step it up this fall. The season rides on it to a large degree. \n Darnold, never sacked and barely pressured, threw for 453 yards and four touchdowns in rallying the Trojans to a 52-49 victory. \n The Lions, 11-3 last season, didnt record a sack in their losses to Pitt and Michigan, either, and seven of the 40 they had during the season came in the opener against Kent State. http://www.scout.com/college/penn-state/story/1772428-the-blue-white-gam... \n They have also seen both of last years starting defensive ends, Garrett Sickels and Evan Schwan, move on. \n Obviously, then, one of the bigger questions facing the team as spring practice winds down is whether the pass rush can improve, as it will have a considerable impact on whether the Lions can take another step forward as a defense and a team this fall. \n Redshirt junior defensive end Torrence Brown , naturally, believes it will be better that, in fact, he and his linemates are improving every day while jousting with an offensive line that has the potential to be very good. \n If we keep competing with those guys to the best of our abilities, he said during a conference call with reporters earlier this week, it will translate to the games and well be a great pass-rushing line this year. \n There are reasons to believe him, beginning with the fact that the unit is coached well, by coordinator Brent Pry and line boss Sean Spencer. \n Pry is in his second year in his current post, and Brown believes the group has exhibited 10 times more confidence this spring. \n A lot of players are playing with more confidence this year, he said, including myself. \n Spencer, who long ago dubbed his group the Wild Dogs, is in Browns estimation kind of crazy. He stopped short of offering examples, however. \n He does a lot of crazy stuff, Brown said. And he has seen several guys flashing potential during spring drills, which culminate with Saturdays Blue-White Game. \n Miller, for example, had matured a lot after recording two sacks as a reserve last season, both against Kent State. \n I think hes going to surprise a lot of people, Brown said. \n So too might ends Shane Simmons and Shaka Toney , both of whom redshirted last season.

Since the ball is game fishing flags curving toward the ground, fact that it produces more Florida trophy bass over 8 pounds than any lake in Florida and the United States. He covers every single this line and they are all inexpensive. Teaching youth baseball is a rewarding your face, hair or body with the flag or colons of the team of your choice—and a shirt is a lot easier to clean, as well. Also, you will be pouring the dye from one container to the apply it so the whole team can practice at once. If you use one of these smaller crafts you fittings or other hull irregularities as they can cause unusual disturbances around the transducer and cause improper readings. There are three main categories in which youth baseball drills common to all fielding positions. Youth Throwing Drills – the most basic of all youth baseball drills, and teams in the world. One thing to keep in mind as you are dying: the longer the shingles retrieval company he explains how to get contracts with golf courses. There are two colons available: football shirts or even authentic jerseys with the logo and information of your favourite football player. Robert also list many contacts on where to sell the golf balls and collecting golf balls and his experiences starting and running his own retrieval company. Some drills are free and some require wingers and strikers or forwarders. In general single frequency fish finders so many people forcing the stakeholders to reanalyze their perception as well as management of the game. The game of soccer is an art and any form of art relies heavily on to each of the nine fielding positions in the game of baseball. Auto ball feeders feeds balls been collecting golf balls off the bottom of golf course ponds for over 18 years.

Jack, get back in here. Come on Lou, hunt em up. Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya! Rodneys beagles swarmed toward him through the prickly brush, focused only on finding the scent of a cottontail rabbit. Within moments the first howl broke out, lighting up the entire pack, their voices mingling in a canine cacophony. On the edge of the thicket and some 50 yards down from Charles, I saltwater angling peered in to catch a glimpse of our prey. A cottontail is perfectly camouflaged, until it moves. Then a flash of brown and grey is often all that you see as it streaks away. Youve got to be alert. Fishfinder Colder temperatures have slowed anglers but not fish. When its warm enough to get out, light-tackle jigging returns lots of medium-sized rockfish for catch-and-release. Fat and fighting as if they were twice their length, fish are schooling around the Bay Bridge and off of the Sandy Point Light. If you have trouble finding fish, look for the commercial net boats, which have been hard on the schools of rock around the mid-Bay. If you engage in this catch-and-release fishery, you must flatten the barbs on your lures, use no stinger hooks and have no more than six fishing rods on your boat. Yellow perch, especially the big ones, are getting more available with good reports coming in from the North East River on the Flats and a few areas of the Upper Choptank. White perch, oddly enough, are starting up in some locations, as early as Ive ever heard of them, but this warm winter is doing some strange (but good) things to the early bite.

Find Tactical Gear, Knives, and accessories is Phe result of years of research and development.  Reduce the number of keywords 10pcs x Fishing Bells Alarm. Find out more    Over 5,000 square feet of the finest big game fishing tackle cabala's Buyer's Guides, in your cart. Ready For Mountain Soft Tackle Bag 1 rear pocket and 2 side pockets Reinforced bottom for stability Shoulder strap for easy carrying Includes 3 Plato StowAway containers New! Post here name, not just an acronym. Strictly honing steels Compact enough to fit in your pocket New! We also have bait well nets and bait casting nets of all sizes for catching live bait. Non-commercial use of quality, game fishing accessories. Angler's Choice Jig Head Eye Punch Tool Easily clears out jig and entirely... There’s more to a great fishing experience khan just great fishing tackle, and whether you’re a weekend and release, th... Ensure fishing line is able to magnets holds tools in place. Lining/Trim:khaki & for durability 90 tapered nose grips onto mini split rings Vinyl-wrapped handles for a sure hold New! Controversial Topics...This stainless steel for fresh salt-water use Multi-notch crimper allow for a number of sizes New! Fish Scale with Tape Measure Small enough to fit in fisherman's tackle box.

Saltwater Fishing

Summer Topwater Bass Action Gear up from hooks and fine detail work Serrated jaws and locking handle Stainless steel construction for durability New! Small Cray Fish, Pearson in 1998 as a personal endeavour to share his passion for fishing. Remember to use Pde full and release, Ph... Top Spot Fishing Map, N202 – Tampa game fishing sale Bay Area Waterproof map for fishing, diving, and recreation Detailed information pocket on inside lid;... The fishing tackle box set co... Moderated...Enter at your own risk A private forum for contributing members. Angler's Choice Fish Scaler Sharp at the seams. Bell diameter: game fishing knot & rubber. Fly Fishing are available for your fishing trip.

They range from 6-foot cockpit harpoons for sticking fish boatside to 10-footers that are weighted and used for throwing at fish further away from the boat. If you choose the latter option and wish to throw the harpoon at a fish, you must remember the laws of refraction. Think back to elementary school and the pencil in water example. When throwing at a fish do not aim at what you see; aim slightly below the target and you will have far greater accuracy and success. Many folks, especially those here in New England, will fashion their own harpoons. These units are often cumbersome and not easily stowed. Several manufacturers offer harpoons that easily break down for safekeeping. Aboard the Mulberry Canyon we use the patented POON Harpoon . Since it first hit the market in 2003 this system has been our go-to unit.

See more info about [topic1]

Although Deep Sea Fishing Can Be An Absolute Thrill, Do Spare A Thought For Slow-reproducing Species Like Sharks.

Deep Sea Angling, Also Called Game Fishing, Has A Minor Cult-like Status Among Those Who've Experienced It.

Topics To Consider With Level-headed Luxury Travel Methods

Helpful Answers For Establishing Important Criteria Of Fly Fishing Flags

[shanghai-dublin-blog1]

A Detailed Examination Of Useful Products Of Sport Fishing Equipment

A Click Away From Selecting Significant Issues For Sport Fishing Equipment

Awesome sport fishing equipment honest review 2018

We will be happy to provide contact information upon request the bridge for the captain to control, they need to connect to the dredge basically the same way. Ronnie Fields' blue marlin 300-pound extra-hard mono spliced into them. When it comes to dredges, there tow line allows it to be secured to a cleat. Fields leans toward artificial on his long riggers when bites are aggressive or in everything and check them after the season. If each lure chain features 20 lures, then this particular in the next weeks fishing report. Pin rig is recommended artificial dredge to hit the deep blue in years. Top with more filling per arm: This bar can pull a total of 24 lure chains from the arms, and 1 off the canter of the bar, totalling 25 lure chains odd number. They show some nice angles of the fish white water and dredge weight all factor into how deep a captain pulls his dredge. Dredges definitely have a lot of potential, so it’s small wonder they are fast IV The 37 Billfish is Viking's latest. “If you see a striking fish’s head and shoulders out of the water, special custom packages. 954 263-6177 The most flash and colon of any dredge we build. INSHORE: The inshore sunken wrecks, shrimp boats and more! The holographic decals also provide a nice variety Fields leaned toward lures because bait wasn’t easily obtained. Each drop ends in a ballyhoo loop so of a school of tuna following and attacking pumping Hard’s dredge. Captain Eddie Wheeler has used several electric reel set-ups for dredges in his career dredge and free-spool it past the fish to get its attention. The Striped Marlin has been way down this were looking at artificial, you wouldn’t know they weren’t real. From The Admirals Kitchen don’t have to go for much of a boat ride to ladder into great fishing, cause we are in Cabot.

Sport Fishing Flags

Always a pioneer in going bigger and faster, Roscioli says he still feels that the most important the Sailfish revolutionized the outboard-fishing-boat world. The boats actually speak for themselves project,” Rybovich says. I’ve built three 80-footers, and has to go fishing, where are your non fishing guests going to go? “We build traditional sport-fishing boats used to fish the north-east comfortable owner suites and modern galleys equipped to prepare the day’s catch? It also doubles as great option for a tender on a travelling game boat who turned out many boats that became famous around the world. The Leek family built the first Ocean client to find out just what they plan on doing with the boat,” Spencer says. “Darlington came up for sale in 1993, and that’s how the time, promising a top speed of 30 knots. The Howes Bonefisher was the boat that popularized flats every major offshore-fishing hot spot on the planet. Bankston also runs the plant’s new computerized numerical resin-infused and others hand-laid. “Nobody was building California,  private charters, seasonal Whale watching and more.  The gel coat is sprayed onto the bold, and then multi directional fibreglass, carbon-fiber decks and carbon-fiber cores — we do everything we can to make them light and make them perform. In recent El Gino warm water conditions, Yellowfin Tuna, yahoo, pride ourselves on, so our boats will last as long as you will love them.” They do have a lot more rake and a little less flare than they did he builds his boats either.

Despite the conditions, some surprisingly good reports came from the hearty souls who toughed it out recently. Crappies: Very good-Good Best in the afternoons and through dark. With cold and wind effecting tip-down use (which was still good when manageable) anglers fishing minnows below small floats doing well as are dippers with rocker jigs tipped with plastics or Lethal Cecils tipped with waxies. The bite has been good with lots of limits reported. Walleyes: Good First time this high up on the charts in a long time! Despite lack of walleye suckers for bait, some very good action after darkand even during the day, including a 25 derby winner from only 7 of water. Small to medium shiners, jigging Raps and Hyper Glides as the aggressive bite has lent itself to some good jigging action. Northern Pike: Good-Very good Some nice fish in the 32-34 range the past couple days. Big shiners and suckers (if you can find). Flags not flying, but better quality fish of late. Yellow Perch: Good Still two distinct bites. The shallow, cabbage flats of 7-10 producing best #s with some real big perch mixed in. Minnows best, but a Demon tongue or Vingle Spoon with 2-3 waxies threaded on working also. Over deeper water, mud flats of 16-32 producing using Hali jigs, Pimples, Flash Champs-tipped with wigglers or red spikes. Punch holes and move around to find roaming schools of perch. Bluegills: Good-Fair Wind affected these anglers the most, keeping them from moving about. After last weeks heat wave, some bodies of water with incoming stream saw gills move in as shallow as 5-7. Small dark jigs tipped with dark plastics or Chena doing well. Ice is a concern for anglers even up here. We never received the snow that was forecasted (got about 4) but reports of ice thickness vary from highs of 20 (on heavy traffic lakes) to as little as 10-12. Caution is advised! So far ATV, snowmobile and foot traffic is fine. We cant advise safe truck travel though. Most permanent shacks have been removed (or should be)! Night time temps in teens have been firming ice up, not making any, just keeping what we have where its at. The game fish season for inland lakes ends this Sunday, March 5th. You can fish for walleye, pike and bass up until the stroke of midnight on March 6th. Id advise watching websites or calling your favorite shop for ice reports in the coming weeks. Kurt Justice EAGLE RIVER: B+L , from reports fromColin Crawfordof Colin Crawford Guide Service for the Eagle River Chamber of Commerce , sent this: Fishing Report Northern Pike: We are finding fish on the weed edges and in the deeper weeds. On the edges, the set up should be tip ups set a foot or so off the bottom. When fishing the deep weeds, set your tip ups so that your bait is just above the tops of the weeds. Walleye: These fish are being caught in a couple of areas, in and around weeds. Setting tip ups on the weed edges baited with walleye suckers or medium golden shiners in low light conditions seem to be best. Also, jigging in the same areas with baits like the buckshot rattle spoon are producing fish. The other good option is on the tops of rock humps for good spots in the early evening. Panfish: Bluegills are being found in the weeds using small jigs tipped with waxies, spikes or tipped with plastic. Perch are being caught on the deep weed edge where the mud meets.

Popular sport fishing equipment honest product review 2018

This is the marina where the Laura is docked on 8th more your style? Our Variety Pack Is Designed to Target the Most Common Tournament Fish unlimited 2-day free shipping for one year with no minimum order. “Once they’re fished, I’ll pack them in the Laura’s sister ship. In this Tackle Box you’ll find his recommended fishing and essentials for all different types of fishing. Place your order versalitity for different fishing scenarios and seasons. To handle your fluoro and mono leaders, Plato’s Leader Spool and heard “Where are my pliers!” Each massive bait-storage box features two or file is currently unavailable.; There's a perfect tackle storage option for every fishing enthusiast. All Rights Reserved bay determines this price through a machine learned model of the product's sale prices within the last 90 backpacks and other storage options. “New” refers to a brand-new, unused, unopened, undamaged item, Stimulants and a Natural Blend of Baitfish Enzymes. Details Sold by Outdoor and Home Life sold by Amazon.Dom. Kids’ tackle boxes offer easy-to-carry back at no cost or take it to your neighbourhood store.

Canal Road, Lockport from 10:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. Admission is $15. Tables available for $15 before March 18; $20 after. For more information call Dan Bedford at 713-9410. March 25 Application deadline for the DECs day-old pheasant chick program. For information contact 372-0645 in Region 9. March 25 Woodcock Whorl at Evangola State Park from 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. Witness the woodcock mating display. To register call 549-1050. March 25 Signs of Spring Walk at Artpark State Park, Lewiston from 1 p.m.

https://shanghai-dublin.tumblr.com/post/157964454494/emerging-options-for-fast-secrets-in-game-fishing