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autumnblogs · 4 years ago

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Day 32: Through the Looking Glass

https://homestuck.com/story/4116

So right out of the gate, we learn a few things about the Scratched version of the universe, aside from the obvious fact that the new heroes are the previous guardians. Everyone is a little more mature, and identities are a little more fully-formed.

Jane’s name is already set in stone. Notably, the definition between the audience and Jane is also a little clearer here than usual - the Narration implies a distinction between us and Jane. Could be because we’re not controlling her yet - but as we get into Act 6, we will find a lot of cases where audience participation happens as part of the mechanic of narration, and this distinction will be called to a lot more.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/4117

So let’s unpack Jane’s interests and relation to pre-established parts of the Homestuck Universe, and see if we can’t start making guesses about Jane.

First thing’s first is that while we could read Jane’s affinity for these mustachio’d funnymen as being purely an attraction, she roleplays like John does - as a bit of a prankstress herself, and one who dons a fake mustache for one of her disguises, Jane roleplays as these men immediately suggesting to us that she looks up to them, and wants to be like them, rather than that she’s attracted to them.

(Though she certainly could be.)

Second thing is that Jane’s position as the Heirress parallels her not to John, but to Feferi. Like Feferi, Jane is a sweet girl who is the heir to a position of abominable power, and because she is beholden to the shape of that power, as long as she remains wedded to that shape, she will not only struggle to do anything productive with it, but in the course of the story, be subverted into a villain, at least for a little while, and it’s clear from the way that Crockertier Jane’s situation is communicated to us that she is an accomplice to her own brainwashing, and that the actions she takes in that form are meaningfully hers.

On another note, I think it’s interesting that on this side of the scratch, the Condesce has reimagined her empire as a megacorporation.

https://homestuck.com/story/4120

What do we learn about Jake right out of the gate? He likes movies - adventure movies. Jake, like Tavros, the other page, loves to bluster about subjects that he actually has relatively little affinity for - and in both cases, their lack of affinity can largely be described as performing their culture’s ideal of public personhood - warrior virtue. While Jake has all of the outward signifiers of masculinity, and is actually a pretty brave and technically skillful fighter by the standards of the real world, up until the Hopesplosion, he is outclassed by a lot of his friends, and ultimately, the cases where he most embodies warrior-manhood, Jake is being forced into it by someone who wants to take advantage of him.

We benefit from most of this knowledge with hindsight. It’s not actually there in this opening section, but the main thrust of Jake’s interests is his love of adventure and his love of wrestling, and I’m principally interested in Jake’s physicality in addressing his interests - he’s a very physical kid.

https://homestuck.com/story/4121

We’re hot off the heels of Terezi’s fake choice, and a lot of conversation about free will and fake choices in Act 5 - and here we’re presented with one almost immediately. We can pick either option, but the outcome will be the same whatever we do.

https://homestuck.com/story/4124

I’ve always thought the Condescension’s relationship with Jane is deeply fascinating. There is something about the prospect of cultivating an heiress, someone to take over her legacy, that brings out something tender and maternal in her, I think, even if it only manifests in a twisted way. She’s a bit of an enigma to me.

https://homestuck.com/story/4126

Well, Jane is certainly interested in Foxworthy, so I rescind my earlier comment.

We’ve barely been introduced to her and she pretty much immediately starts showing off her paternalistic disdain for rural and vulgar people through the narrative’s language, and her nostalgia for Problem Sleuth characterizes her enjoyment of its sequel.

Jane has an aristocratic mentality, and conservative leanings in the media she appreciates, and the way that she appreciates it. If Andrew’s commentary that he continued to examine the themes he started with Feferi in Jane, I think what we should take away is that Feferi’s concern for the lowly comes with a heaping helping of...

Wait for it.

Wait for it...

Condescension.

https://homestuck.com/story/4127

Jane’s disdain for the vulgar - low culture, low classes - also shows itself pretty quickly. In stark contrast to the other two leaders - John and Karkat - Jane isn’t much of a movie watcher at all (Jake gets that attribute in his session) and her attitude toward’s Jake’s movies is one of snobbery. Both of the other two movie watchers have a playfully self-deprecating attitude toward their own bad tastes in movies, but they still enjoy those movies sincerely.

Her relationship of passive-aggressive one-upsmanship also distinctly recalls Rose’s relationship with her mother, suggesting that Jane shares some of the underlying pessimism and mild hostility that Rose struggles with.

Also, as a symbol Swanson is a representative of the sort of anti-government animus that characterizes the politics of Trans-Mississippi America outside of the heavily populated West Coast, where the wedding of big business and state planning have created a lot of disaffection toward the distant and disinterested corporate landlords and bureaucratic apparatuses that govern huge tracts of federal land and private property in the west. Pawnee Indiana may not actually be on the other side of the Mississippi from Washington, but having grown up in Montana for at least a part of my childhood, Swanson’s politics are immediately recognizable.

Unfortunately, this anti-state animus has manifested not in the form of a renewed commitment to emancipation, but to the uniquely American, get-off-my-lawn form of Right-Wing populism practiced by the short-lived Tea Party, and smug “It’s just basic economics” Reagan-worshipping conservatives.

What I’m trying to say is, Jane would probably be a Ben Shapiro or Steven Crowder fan in the modern day.

https://homestuck.com/story/4136

Jane’s skepticism prevents her from listening to her friends when they tell her about the extraordinary things that they do, but it’s also not exactly a kind of scientific skepticism, and more of a dogmatic realism - she has a narrow vision of what the world is like, and is dismissive of ideas that are outside of her bubble.

Quick Note that while Jake makes only an off-handed remark about it here, he is sensitive to the hostile, toxic relationship between the AR and Dirk in a way that neither of the girls really is, and while that may seem uncharacteristically emotionally intelligent of Jake, I think he’s a lot more aware of his surroundings than he lets on.

https://homestuck.com/story/4142

Now as long as we’re talking about Right Wing Populism and comparing Jane to John there is an extremely potent assertion.

The USPS, and the idea of privatizing it, is as much a symbol of the war of corporatists and authoritarians against social democracy as anything is, and because of the way John is associated with Mail in general as a Hero of Breath, Jane is almost immediately setting herself up as a foil to John.

https://homestuck.com/story/4144

Calliope is so cheery that it’s easy to take everything she says in stride, and yet, with all the horrors Sburb has to offer, in terms of the way it destroys planets, and traumatizes its players, her optimism toward the game is at least disquieting.

Sure, the Null Session isn’t going to destroy the kids’ session, but her language is contrasted against both Kanaya’s and Karkat’s when they berated Aradia and Jade respectively. Both Karkat and Kanaya rue the effects of the narrative on their lives, but Calliope is a superfan.

https://homestuck.com/story/4156

I know I’m spending a lot of time ragging on her here, but like, as long as I am; Jane is sure openly hostile to her best friend, in a way that comes as kind of surprising even given the precedent that we have to work with.

https://homestuck.com/story/4160

Poirot is from Belgium.

I wonder if Andrew or Jane is the one committing that error?

https://homestuck.com/story/4168

Jake is full of little contradictions like this. Likes Adventure, terrified of monsters. Not even ambivalent about them, certainly not excited by them. It’s like the opposite of how little kids are usually super into Dinosaurs.

https://homestuck.com/story/4171

So what is the deal with Jake and his fascination with Blue Women? Aside from the metaphysical connection with Vriska and Aranea (and to a lesser extent, Jake), like... what’s the meaning of it?

I think a possible answer to the question lies in the process of the initial portraits becoming blue - leaving them out in the sun to fade - and the relationship between that, and the way in which he likes mummies and suits of armor, and so on and so forth - and even his stuffed trophies.

Maybe this suggests that Jake is, on principle, far more comfortable with the idea of a thing, than with the thing itself. Jake’s Blue Women are comfortably static. They have ceased to change a long time ago, and now exist, preserved in perpetuity, without the need to worry about adapting to suit them.

https://homestuck.com/story/4175

While a lot of Jake’s guesses are incorrect, he’s still clearly spending a lot of time pondering over the mysterious time shenanigans - he just hasn’t quite put it all together.

https://homestuck.com/story/4177

The same way that Dirk’s fastidious organization is equated to his complicated and demanding modus, and the way that John being a big impulsive himbo is equated with his inability to manage his fetch modus, constantly getting distracted from his goal by the card on the surface, Jake’s Modus has an enormous capacity, but most of it is preoccupied inefficiently.

https://homestuck.com/story/4184

The Autoresponder continues the conversation that Andrew has with the audience about the distribution of the self - Dirk does this more generally, but the particular thread the AR tugs on is the question of where a person’s self really stops - just as the question lingers in the air because of John’s disposition toward Davesprite, the question of whether the AR is really a separate person from Dirk, or a part of him, is posed continuously just by the fact that it exists.

https://homestuck.com/story/4192

To be fair to Dirk, who I will have a lot of kind-of-sympathetic-antipathy for, I had forgotten that it is, in fact, the Autoresponder who sets up this particular challenge for Dirk.

The parallels between Dirk and English are nevertheless being set up through this conversation nevertheless - by sending him the parts and getting him to assemble the robot, Dirk makes Jake complicit in his own humiliation, even as he attempts to build Jake up into an ideal partner.

https://homestuck.com/story/4196

Already we’re seeing indications that this segment of Homestuck will deal with different themes of growing up than the first half. Which is already kind of obvious, but we’ve moved decisively out of Part 1: Problems, and into Part 2: Feelings. The second half has moved out of the territory of other humans and their emotional situations as somewhat idealized problems (somewhat) and into this situation where everyone is a moving body, complicated and the characters are each others’ biggest obstacles, and their own biggest obstacles. That’s a bit of a reductive way of describing it, but I think it rings true.

https://homestuck.com/story/4256

While I am willing to concede that Dirk is not literally responsible for siccing the Brobot on Jake today, he more or less assents to AR’s sexual harassment and physical abuse of Jake.

In addition to his vicarious physical abuse, Dirk’s persona as the Prince of Heart calls him to suppress the uniqueness of the people who are around him, moulding them like clay into shapes that better resemble him. Jake and Jane need to be more like each other in his eyes - which is to say, they both need to be more like Dirk.

We also get some insight into Dirk’s sense of humor here - it’s not just about the irony. I think there is an extent to which at the base of the thing, Dirk’s sense of humor is about simultaneously denying and affirming a thing’s meaning - making fun of it while cherishing it. Having a thing be incredibly silly - while also being incredibly serious business. He cherishes the absurd.

I wonder if he’d like Kojima’s stuff.

https://homestuck.com/story/4257

The way that Dirk identifies with logic and reason recalls the sort of “enlightened by my own intelligence” New Atheist jerks who were known to prowl the internet in the early half of the decade, and to some extent, still do. Like Libertarians, these folks have often in the present day gotten caught up in Right Wing Populism. Maybe it’s something about the way that Right Wing movements increasingly identify as a part of counter-culture even though they advocate reactionary policies.

https://homestuck.com/story/4273

This is extremely silly, but Jake is in mortal peril all the time, and I expect even at the best of times he might be uncomfortable being touched.

https://homestuck.com/story/4284

Here we shall pause.

Sorry for the late post. Early work was quite busy, and once the rush was over, it was already quite late.

So the first Act of Act 6 has been very informative! Compared to the first Act of Homestuck, we’ve been introduced already to all our Dramatis Personae!

Tune back in tomorrow to here Cam Say,

Some variation on Alive and Not Alone.

#commentary #liveblogging

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Midge!

You have been accepted for the role of ANDROMEDA TONKS with the faceclaim change of Gemma Arterton! We really enjoyed how the old prejudices come out with your Andromeda, all while trying to combat them. We think it’ll be really interesting to see how she fits within her role in the Order, especially since she’ll be connected to old family. So excited to have you as part of the roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Midge ( she / her )

AGE: 28

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: It’s pretty solid - I am generally around to plot on mobile throughout the day and while my job can be very demanding at certain times of the year, I still am able to post a few times a week.

ANYTHING ELSE: ( Triggers ) Rape, incest. [edited for clarity]

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Andromeda Cassiopeia Tonks ( nee Black )

AGE: Twenty-nine

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: CIS Female ( she / her ). Heterosexual. While Bi-Curious, Andromeda has never explored her sexuality fully.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

ANY CHANGES: I would love to use Gemma Arterton, if possible!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: Scorpio ( Sun ). Scorpio ( Moon ). Taurus ( Rising ).

A sun in Scorpio and ascendant in Taurus, Andromeda does often find difficulty understanding how she is perceived by others. In a position where rubbing people the wrong way was never much of a worry of hers, she often presents herself as materialistic and overly self-involved. While materialism is something she is mindful of ( finding comfort through her means being something she does strive towards ), this is not her driving force.

Her Sun being in Scorpio means she has a fundamental urge to get to the bottom of things, which can at times lead her to be manipulative or power-hungry, but it is from a place of intense passion for authenticity, real intimacy, and the truth. Andromeda is driven to set herself apart from others, often through her close relationships and long-term partnerships. Her desire for marriage was not only born out of a moment of heated vitriol to her family, but also in the pursuit of sustaining the connection she felt with Ted in the most lasting manner she could think.

Her Moon represents her emotional self: intense, passionate, and a bit dramatic. With an eye for a bit of a show, she still is inclined to keep her more intense and darker emotions private and has a hard time truly letting people in. Trust is hard-fought with her, and while she is very perceptive this sometimes manifests in suspicion and even controlling tendencies. The through-line of Andromeda’s personality is that she craves intimacy, and while it takes effort to get to the core of her it is upon being truly known she finds herself most fulfilled.

Dromeda is extremely practical, she is reliable and deliberate, giving off the impression of someone who is sensible ( though sometimes, extremely, stubborn ). Through her insightful intuition, Andromeda excels not only in her career but her obsessive tendencies make for someone who can build out a life for herself. She avoids “ beating around the bush ” where she can, and as a result can come off as harsh or intrusive. Being as intuitive to others as she is, she also heavily relies on communicating through body language or if the relationship allows, physical affection.

Ultimately, Andromeda can be very internal even when present with her own deeply intuitive and feeling self. Run through with a stubborn nature and desire to use her mental capacities to achieve her own personally set goals, she is ultimately a loving and devoted person to those she allows past the moments of discernment. As a result she’s always very aware of any who come into those people’s lives, utilizing her scrupulous nature to ensure that what she holds dear remains safely guarded.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: ( TW: Mention of child death )

It is their cousin who tells them his sister died.

Not much older than Cissa, Iris died before she could even get a place on the family tree. Aunt Lavinia sits by a window and while her eyes are transfixed on the glass, Andromeda somehow knows she is not looking at anything that is outside. The house is quiet, save for Evan occasionally tugging at the cat’s tail just to hear it hiss. Normally Dromeda would tell him to stop, normally she would start pulling his hair so he could understand how it felt. But normally he did not have a dead sister so she sits with her hands politely folded in her lap.

In any case, she has a question to ask.

" Why? "

" How? "

The second question comes rushing from Bella.

They do not receive any answer right away, a pinch from Mother and a look from Father bars any more words from leaving their lips the rest of the visit. They get their answer at home before bed, Mother and Father sits them down in front of a window. Aunt Lavinia’s eyes must still be looking at but not out the window in her own home, Dromeda thinks while her too-wide and observant eyes strain to study Mother’s face.

As usual, it comes back to those creatures called Muggles. The same who burn witches and wizards alive, the same who beat Andromeda’s relatives and stoned them to death. Those evil beings who destroy everything and made Wizard-kind ashamed of their powers. Mother tells Bellatrix and herself of a new heinous act. They sneak into nurseries of the most innocent babies with their special, magical blood and pierce their soft, sweet skin with their teeth. They drink and drink until the baby stops breathing. They take all that is special from the child to pass on to their own offspring, to make those mudbloods look and speak as they do. They do it to infiltrate, to feed on more, to destroy every bit of goodness in the world.

( Aunt Lavinia’s baby is dead because of muggles - she was killed by a greedy, horrid monster. )

Mother tells her to stop clutching at her as she walks her back to her bedroom. She does her best, straightens her back and balls a small fist at her side - she stops holding Mother’s hand and instead tries to hold her own. It does nothing to stop her heart from racing. Once in bed, she counts the footsteps of Mother’s graceful stride until she knows she is alone. Until she knows she can move from her bed without being punished. Andromeda's less-than-graceful feet fumble from sheets and scramble to the ground. Frantic steps carry her toward the nursery. The door is cracked, and that is concerning.

It takes all of her courage to push through.

She expects to find a horned creature with long fangs hovering over her sister’s crib - instead she finds Bella laying on the floor beside it. With only a look exchanged in recognition, Andie joins her and is comforted in the thought Bella does not mind when she holds her hand. No matter how hard she squeezes.

Without any words the two sisters resolve themselves to be the protectors of the youngest from those who would wish to prey on her.

This memory begins to dull at age eleven. She watches a boy from across the Great Hall with mild curiosity, and his whole body moves as he laughs.

“Filthy mudblood,” is sneered from somewhere down the table. Instinctively, Andromeda reaches for Bellatrix’s hand.

( How odd, she thinks as she spots him later, he doesn’t seem to have fangs at all. )

She’s thirteen by the time they are formally introduced, her upbringing does not allow for her to be anything less than polite. At least, this is what she tells herself as she engages in conversation. He tells him his name is Ted and Andromeda spends the night thinking of how it felt when they clasped hands.

They talk, confined by isolated areas and the moonlight. Out of shame at first, perhaps. But there are some things Andromeda comes to find she only wants the moon sharing with her, with him.

Later ( in secret, away from her sisters’ prying eyes ), she’ll trace the veins in his wrist and she thinks she can feel the blood beneath begin to warm. How could it be thick, how could it be muddy - she thinks. His blood, and a burgeoning feeling becoming increasingly harder to ignore is as pure as anything she’s ever touched. Soft and warm when she’s nestled beside his beating heart, soft and warm even when she’s not.

( He’s not dirty, she thinks. Her family might be the one that is wrong. )

She’s lost to them long before they realize, long before she herself has accepted the truth. Ted holds one half of her, she believes, reserving some part that has listened to the lessons taught by her parents. Bellatrix’s infatuation of her own dalliance grows, a man who is allowed to eat at their table and handled their most prized heirlooms. He is the one who is unworthy, he is the one who poses the greater threat to everything important. ( There are bigger problems, she reasons, than a simple affair. )

Pregnancy brings on horrid morning sickness, and a slap that rings in her ear to this day, if she listens closely enough. “ Dead to us, ” they say. But offer a gift in the wake. As she spills out into the night air she finds herself gasping, as though she had resurfaced, as though she has just been saved from a watery grave.

( She stops by Cissa’s room, hoping to salvage at least one piece ).

Years of playing protector, vanquisher of the monsters under the bed, come full circle on her own. Nymphadora is born without the usual pomp and circumstance she has known in such occasions, but love pours from her quickly enraptured by strong lungs unabashedly wailing into the night air. Born able to achieve whatever she would like. That’s what she tells her, whispered promises like the exchange of vows shared with Ted before.

( She tries to ignore the Daily Prophet’s proclamations of anything else ).

A life is built, with difficulty and with trial and error ( how was she to know washing machines were to work like that? ) She is happy, she thinks, after years of being told such pursuits are foolish or secondary. She can protect them, she can keep them just isolated enough to not call any attention their way. There’s an effort to bring them closer to the fold but Andromeda balks at such a concept. ( Albus Dumbledore can not be trusted, she implores. Men with such power rarely care for their pawns at play ).

And still the part of her remains. The way certain light catches and she can feel those around her stiffen ( She looks so much like her, doesn’t she? ) The part of her which sharpened fangs in duels with Bellatrix left idly twiddling her fingers. It’s relentless, the tide. All the reasons why her job suits her. All the best, she thinks, to keep some things separate.

( She was told, once, about the myth behind her name. The Chained Woman. Andromeda was never asked her opinion, or so it’s said. Perhaps she only knew better to keep it to herself. )

OCCUPATION:

Unspeakable in the Ministry of Magic. A niche for ancient artifacts and interest in history allows for her attention to be drawn to the mysteries that keep magic interesting. Andromeda enjoys her job, finding it satisfying an itch she oftentimes could feel ashamed of ( if she spent much time thinking about what compels her, that is ). It is with the understanding of the level of access such a position has given her that she found herself acting as informant to the Order in the first place, and not necessarily because she felt any good will towards the movement of radicals. Andromeda isn’t compelled to trust the Ministry, exactly, nor is she inclined to leave her trust with men recruiting children to war. Her loyalty has always been a closed circle, stuck to a desire to move forward and a need to provide for her family.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Andromeda is more inclined to believe that the Ministry and actual authority would have the means to bring about the end of the war, but with the shift of tide she understands that such measures are a necessary evil. For however far removed she has been from the Black Family Tapestry for the time she’s been married, Andromeda still remembers what it was like to host Voldemort for dinner parties as Bellatrix’s obsession for him grew. She is of a unique group who understood what was happening long before the Daily Prophet began their war correspondence.

That being said, Andromeda also knows of the ambition of man in general. Whispers of a vigilante group were met with indifference at first, she was ( perhaps misguidedly ) indignant at the idea of a select few taking matters into their own hands, let alone the rumors that some were being recruited right out of school? Her opinion on the group as a whole has only slightly softened since a few loved ones got involved, most notably Sirius and now Ted. Accepting the reality of the threat they are faced with comes with the ( somewhat begrudging ) acceptance compromises must be made.

SURVIVAL:

To put it bluntly, survival is everything to Andromeda. Above all else she is a true Slytherin and will do whatever it takes to survive, the caveat being that this extends to her family. Andromeda, though certainly affected by her upbringing in prejudice and violent bigotry, has not been indoctrinated in the same way. However, a certain edge to her allows for more than a few people to draw the direct line of understanding she is cut of the same cloth as Bellatrix Lestrange. While Bella found herself perverted past recognition to her devotion to the cause and her “master”, Andromeda made conscientious decisions to be as self-possessed as possible. This includes a willingness to play coy with the war effort that stands to protect her way of life.

Because, and this is very important, Andromeda thinks herself above it. She does not always draw a direct correlation to the suffering of others to what could become of her, because in Andromeda’s mind she will simply not allow it to happen. She knows she will be ruthless when it comes down to it, and tries to maintain a certain amount of plausible deniability when it comes to moments in which she is directly associated with the war.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Ted is, above everything else, the love of her life. She would have moved them to another country if she had her way but they settled on a cottage by the coast. They have fundamental disagreements and while there are times when he is met with exasperation on her end Andromeda has always liked the challenge he presented to her. A certain recklessness to give himself over to a cause rather than be content with the life they have stolen away offers a host of issues she would rather avoid; and it is in part due to this reasoning she doesn’t always share her own passing along of details. Ultimately, however, everything Dromeda does is for Ted, for their family.

Andromeda carries with her an adolescence of her family’s social engineering, which means she has connections in various places ( some she isn’t the quickest to acknowledge ). I think she finds herself drawn to the other members of her family who have been disowned, or even the women around her year who she recognized herself in. Which is to say nothing of the particular status she has achieved as an Unspeakable. Indifferent to status ( possibly as a result of it always being given to her ), Drom certainly knows how to use it.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I am a huge sucker for Tedromeda, to be perfectly honest. But at the end of the day I will write with wherever there is chemistry and am always looking for fun avenues to explore!

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?:

There is a lifetime of prejudice which Andromeda needs to consistently unpack and confront ( and, as is the way of someone who grew up as incredibly privileged as she did, she is not always willing to do the work ). In many ways, hers is the story of triumph of love over the built-in bigotry that poisoned her home. In practice, it is much trickier. For as much as Andromeda knows what her family is now, there are still fond memories she holds dear. For all the horrors she knows that have been perpetrated in the name of purity, she often finds herself subject to the conditioning she was raised on.

Andromeda was taught, young and often, through the various state-sanctioned ( and family approved ) propaganda pieces to fear and resent anything that would be seen to be an outside, infiltrating force. She does attempt to give her daughter a more objective education of the world around them, though this is made increasingly difficult with the way the war seems to be going. Fear does things to people, she knows more than most, but there is a lack of malice in her heart.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?:

Honestly, I’ve been keeping my eye on this roleplay for some time and the stars just aligned in terms of my schedule opening up and a role that I wanted to play around with! Andromeda is fascinating to me because of all her contradictions, as well as a major resistance to actively take part in a war which she could potentially play a role in. I think the natural tension between her and former family members could also lead to a very interesting dynamic as we move forward!

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

I am open to going with the flow and love organically plotting, but I think Andromeda’s position at the Ministry / her being an informant to the Order could really challenge her laissez faire attitude when it comes to the war in general. Along with the building tension she has in her own home, and her desire to keep her family safe above anything else, it would be interesting to explore the boiling point of where that all comes to a head. Passivity has no place when she has a husband actively partaking in the war effort, and when the outcome could potentially call into question his safety she might have to fully establish herself as a combatant against what she was raised in.

ANYTHING ELSE? I don’t think so!

#homenumaccepted #harry potter rpg #hp rpg #marauders rp #marauders rpg

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notapaladin · 5 years ago

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from the heart and from the bone

someone: you can’t have “gotta snuggle for warmth” in 1480s mexico, can you?

me, all-powerful and very sexy: fuckin’ watch me

ANYWAY. In which Acatl, on the trail of a dangerous sorcerer, finds out that desert nights are cold. Luckily, he’s got Teomitl to warm him up--and when he’s woken up in the middle of the night by the man’s nightmare, he forgets all about the cold. Smut below the cut! Spoilers for the trilogy as a whole.

Also on AO3

The problem with leaving the lake far behind you, Acatl reflected, was that even if you knew it would be much hotter during the day and much colder at night, that didn’t prepare you for the reality of experiencing it. All day he and Teomitl had walked under a sun that turned the air into the inside of an oven, following a thin and stinging trail of magic out of Texcoco, off the main roads, and into the hills in pursuit of a vicious sorcerer. Heat had sapped his strength until he stumbled, and even Teomitl’s usual purposeful stride had slowed to a grim trudge. It had made them both snappish, too; Teomitl had been communicating solely in grunts and vague grumbles for the past half-mile, which at least was better than arguing. But his mood improved as the sun inched towards the horizon, and accordingly Acatl started to feel a bit better about their journey as well. Exhausted, but better.

And then night had well and truly fallen, and the temperature went from blistering to bracing to godsdamned freezing. He had wrapped his cloak tighter and kept walking, trying to ignore the shaking in his limbs, but after the third time he’d tripped—over nothing—Teomitl had taken a long look at him in the moonlight and called a halt.

“We need to rest. At least for a few hours.”

His first thought was to argue—I don’t need you to mother me, Teomitl danced dangerously on the tip of his tongue—but when he blinked he discovered that his eyelids very much wanted to stay closed, actually, and it took real effort to force them open again. “...Fine.” At least it would give him a chance to shake the pebble that had been tormenting him out of his sandal.

Their stopping place turned out to be a rocky bit of ground, with the flattest spot between the spreading roots of a twisted pine tree. He let himself be steered towards it; when he finally sat down, head resting against the bark, he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him. Teomitl, hearing it, smiled. “See, Acatl, isn’t that better?”

It was light and teasing, but the flip in his stomach had nothing to do with annoyance. Teomitl had been calling him Acatl more and more since that day on the temple steps, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was good to be on equal footing—it made something unknot itself in his gut every time he imagined Teomitl, crowned, calling him gently by name—but then Teomitl smiled like that while saying it and it never failed to remind him of all the things he couldn’t have. It was possible, after all, to be too close.

He was grateful now for the darkness that hid his blush. “...Hm. Where are you resting, then?”

Teomitl looked around, shrugged, and sat down with his back against a crumbling boulder. “It looks like a comfortable rock.”

Despite himself, he managed to smile. The day when Teomitl had walked him back home after Axayacatl’s death felt like an eternity ago. “At least you don’t have any imperial finery to ruin now.”

“Mm-hmm.” He could hear the amusement—and the muffled yawn—in Teomitl’s voice, and it warmed his heart. “Go to sleep.”

Sleep was starting to sound increasingly tempting. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a moment. We can keep going at midnight. Teomitl was right, anyway; they would be in no fit shape to even find their quarry without rest, never mind fight him. Maybe he’s finally starting to understand limits. Unlikelier things have happened.

He breathed in the scent of crushed pine needles, remembering the last time he and Teomitl had traveled together. Then, they had been on the way to Teotihuacan on the trail of star-demons; he’d still been half-reeling over how close he’d come to death at Quenami’s hands and trying desperately to keep his student from overextending himself. Now Teomitl was no longer his student, no longer quite so reckless, and they were no longer staring down quite so dire a threat. It was almost relaxing, honestly.

Except for the weather. The night wind picked up, and he shivered and pulled his cloak closer around his body. I’ve slept in worse. This should be no hardship.

And it wasn’t—at first. True, it was cold, but loosening his hair and letting it fall over his shoulders provided some protection from the wind; it was a trick that worked much better when your hair was reasonably clean, and he allowed himself a moment of smugness that Acamapichtli, who unlike him had managed to grow his blood-matted hair all the way down to his feet, would never be able to manage it. But the wind found his exposed skin anyway, just when he thought he was finally drifting off, until finally he found himself staring into the night sky and grimly thinking Duality, I should have brought an extra cloak.

Movement from Teomitl’s position caught his eye. Acatl glanced over to see him uncurl himself and shuffle towards the tree, looking as tired and cold as he felt. “Acatl?”

“Mm?” As he blinked up at him he realized Teomitl was coming closer; but the why of it was refusing to come together in his mind. Oh. He can’t mean to—

He did. “There’s no point in both of us being cold, is there?”

Acatl took a slow breath. They would be warmer, that was true, but the images that his mind conjured up did not suggest it would be particularly restful for him. Some sleep is better than none at all. I can bear this. I will bear this. Before he knew it, he was shifting over to make room and opening his cloak to help cover them both. There was space for two between the tree’s roots if they huddled close.

Teomitl wasted no time doing exactly that. Indeed, he nestled into Acatl’s side as though he belonged there, stretching half of his own cloak across Acatl’s chest. Though his fingers were cold, that wasn’t what made Acatl shiver; no, that honor belonged to Teomitl’s voice, the barest whisper in his ear. “Now let’s sleep.”

He made a noise he was not going to call a squeak. Now that they were pressed so closely together, he had absolutely no idea what to do with his limbs. Abruptly revitalized blood was flowing to places that it really, really didn’t need to be. How am I going to sleep like this? How can I ever sleep again? “I—“

Teomitl nuzzled—there was no other word for it—into him. “You can put your arm around me. I don’t mind.” He sounded sleepily amused; if it hadn’t been impossible, Acatl would have said he sounded smug.

I don’t mind, he says. Maybe I do. Maybe you are dealing with a man, Teomitl, and not a statue. But saying that would be worse than useless, and so he said nothing. Carefully, his arm came to rest around Teomitl’s waist under their cloaks; it seemed the most natural, innocent position for it. Teomitl let out a little sigh and shifted downwards, dropping his head onto his shoulder. When he felt lips press against his skin through the fall of his hair, his heart skipped a beat. Sleep. Right. He was hyper-aware of Teomitl’s warm skin, his solid muscles—even the way his hair, at an awkward length where it wasn’t quite long enough yet to brush back into a noble hairstyle, kept tickling his nose. If he dared, he could bury his hands or his face in that hair, could slide his hand up Teomitl’s back, could tilt Teomitl’s head up and—

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. The emptiness of Mictlan chilled his veins. If he focused on that and only that, it was almost possible to ignore the way Teomitl’s thigh pressed against his. And he was exhausted; as their shared body heat warmed the air under their cloaks, it was easier to give into it. They were holding each other, but that meant nothing. In the morning they would separate, adjust their cloaks, and keep walking. They’d never mention this again.

On that comforting thought, he tugged Teomitl a little closer and drifted off to sleep.

His dreams were vaguely unpleasant—dead things with too many eyes, Mihmatini with a snarl on her face and a knife in her hand—but when he stirred back to consciousness they scattered like leaves on the wind. No light penetrated his closed eyelids, and for a confused heartbeat he couldn’t think what had woken him.

And then Teomitl whimpered, digging his fingers roughly into his shoulder, and he realized that the racing heartbeat he felt wasn’t his own. With effort he opened his eyes and sucked in a breath, hearing his own voice as a too-loud hiss as he whispered, “Teomitl?”

An incoherent mumble, and then—“No, wake up, don’t leave me…”

The inside of his throat felt like ice. The last time he’d heard Teomitl’s voice like that, all despairing terror, had been his illness—but, he thought, surely he’s healthy now? Or does he always suffer like this in his sleep? It wasn’t at all unknown among warriors, but the idea of Teomitl’s dreams tormented by the screams of injured men and the silence of the dead made his heart ache. I need to wake him— But Teomitl rolled and kicked out, driving a knee into his hip, and the words he’d planned came out as a pained grunt instead.

And Teomitl didn’t wake. In the dappled moonlight, Acatl could make out the unhappy scrunch of his closed eyelids; when his mumbling coalesced into words again, each one was a knife in his heart. He was shaking so badly that even his voice trembled. “Acatl. Acatl...not allowed…”

He dreams about me. He dreams about me, and he sounds like his heart is breaking. He swallowed, barely trusting his own voice. “Teomitl. Wake up.”

“Mwuh?” Teomitl’s face upon waking was a sight that would melt a stone, with one eye half-lidded and his hair and eyebrows sticking up every which way. Then he blinked for a moment, suddenly-alert gaze darting around like a dragonfly, and the spell was broken. The tension running through his body was making him vibrate like a plucked bowstring. “Acatl-tzin? What’s the matter?”

Acatl met his eyes and found them dark and troubled. “...You were having a nightmare.” As he said it, he realized first that his arm was still around Teomitl’s waist—how he could have forgotten, he had no idea—and second that there was absolutely no power in the Fifth World that could remove it short of Teomitl himself. Not when Teomitl might need him.

Teomitl frowned, plainly displeased by the answer. “...Oh.”

It was foolish to bring it up. He knew it was foolish even as he said it, knew that Teomitl would probably snarl at him for it. But that voice had been filled with so much despair, and he needed to know why. “You said my name.”

“I…” Teomitl took a slow breath, dropping his gaze to Acatl’s collarbone. He was still shivering.

If he’d been dealing with one of his nieces or nephews, he would have asked if he wanted to talk about it. If he’d been dealing with a troubled calmecac student, he would have busied himself with something unimportant in his line of sight until he felt like unburdening his heart. But he was dealing with Teomitl, and so he waited in silence. Teomitl would tell him or he would not, but Acatl wouldn’t force him.

Teomitl didn’t make him wait long. His voice held the careful precision of a man slotting feathers into a shield, but each word trembled. “I dreamt you were—not dead. Death would have been a kindness. You had no breath, no pulse, no life, but your souls were still in there. Trapped. And I couldn’t—you weren’t there. I need you so much, and you weren’t there.” The hand still resting on Acatl’s shoulder slowly slid down over his heart. He didn’t raise his eyes.

The words felt like stones on Acatl’s heart, and for a moment all he could do was breathe. Oh, my Teomitl.

The worst of it was, there was nothing he could do. So far as he knew, there were no spells against nightmares that actually worked; the only one that he knew of had a tendency to make you dream about being chased by living gourds instead, which was less personal but not actually any better. Helpless, he cupped Teomitl’s cheek. “I’m here now.”

Teomitl lifted his head and looked into his eyes, and for a brief moment Acatl registered only how soft the skin under his fingertips was. “Are you?”

He trailed his fingers down over Teomitl’s jaw to the back of his neck, watching the way his tremors ebbed into a very different kind of shiver. When he buried his fingers lightly in his hair, he was rewarded with the sight of Teomitl’s eyes going even darker. He’d never taken peyote, but he imagined it would feel something like this—disconnected, dreamlike, the air hazy around them. He could barely speak. “I am.” I promise. I’ll be with you forever.

They were so close. Teomitl’s lips were parted; he licked his own, feeling how dry they were, and saw a sharp gaze flick to his tongue. It would take such a small motion for him to close the distance, if he was brave enough. He knew he wasn’t.

But Teomitl was.

Acatl’s first kiss was soft, gentle, and absolutely devastating. Teomitl’s lips were warm and careful against his own, kissing him like something too fragile to touch; when Acatl made a sound against him, he drew back. For a moment, he looked as though he was about to speak.

Before he could, Acatl kissed him back. It was clumsy and imperfect, but that didn’t matter; Teomitl was deepening it with a hungry little growl, one hand tangling in his hair, and when Acatl’s arm tightened around him he actually moaned. It sent a jolt straight to his cock; for the span of a heartbeat, he had to pull away to breathe. His skin felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t remember having ever been cold.

“Acatl.” Teomitl sounded ragged, desperate, and before Acatl had entirely gotten his breath back he found himself biting back a gasp as Teomitl lowered his head to kiss along the side of his neck. Like this, with one of Teomitl’s hands in his hair and the other sliding down over his chest, he was entirely at his mercy. His world narrowed down to the wet heat of Teomitl’s mouth, the faint scrape of teeth suggesting he might bite. It was exhilarating; if not for the danger of carrying sound in the wilderness, he might have begged for more.

And then Teomitl found a bundle of nerves just at the junction of neck and shoulder and mouthed at it hard enough to bruise, and he couldn’t muffle the cry that escaped him. “Ah—!” When he did it again, all he could do was shudder and splay his hand against Teomitl’s back, speechless at the heat coiling through his veins. It was almost too much, but he never wanted it to stop. “Please—“

Teomitl lifted his head with a slow, wicked smile, and that really couldn’t be borne. Acatl had to kiss it, and this time he resolved to be bold. It was much easier this time, with the way Teomitl arched against him and gasped into his mouth; the noise he made when Acatl tugged his hair was downright electrifying. When they broke apart, his voice was almost a sigh. “Mm...Acatl…”

I’m making him sound like that. It was a heady rush, but he barely had a moment to let it sink in before Teomitl’s mouth was on his again; the sensation of his lower lip caught lightly in sharp teeth, just for a moment, was enough to make him shudder. And then the hand that had been resting almost innocently on his chest slid down over his stomach, nails scratching gently, and the shudder turned into a near-involuntary roll of his hips. “Ah…”

In between feather-light kisses—to his face, his neck, his bare shoulder—Teomitl breathed, “Been wanting to do this for ages—can I…?” Fingers grazed the tented bulge in his loincloth, maddeningly light, and he sucked in a breath at even that little bit of friction.

Gods, yes, please. He nodded frantically, and Teomitl grinned. The flash of teeth in the darkness was all the warning he had before a warm hand closed around his cock, stroking him through the thin fabric, and even when he tried he couldn’t stop a whine from escaping. “Nnh…” For a breathless moment all he could think about was rocking into that touch, sure that nothing in his life had ever come close to this.

Then he bucked his hips and Teomitl’s breath caught, and he knew there was something better. The next stroke was a slow upward slide, thumb circling around the head, and he had to kiss him to muffle a truly undignified noise. Teomitl huffed out a little laugh that turned into a moan when Acatl broke away to mouth at a sensitive spot just under his ear. “Gods, you feel so good in my hands.”

I want to touch you too, he thought dizzily—but it was harder to focus through pleasure than pain, so it was only with effort that he managed to slide his hand between them, fumbling fingers catching at Teomitl’s ribs and thigh and the curve of his hipbone before settling over his loincloth and feeling hard flesh twitch into his touch. Gods, I want—

He didn’t need to ask; Teomitl was already wriggling closer, and the angle was strange on another man but when he pumped him slowly he was rewarded with a delicious groan. “More.” He sounded breathless already; the part of Acatl’s mind still capable of any thought marveled that he was the one who’d done that to him, but the rest of him had better things to focus on.

Like the feel of Teomitl’s cock in his hand, hard and heavy and so hot even through his loincloth. He wanted to see, but even tugging the cloth aside would mean stopping what he was doing, and that was clearly impossible. Especially with Teomitl’s little panting breaths in his ear when he sped up and squeezed just a fraction harder, the kind of noises that made Acatl almost want to hear him scream.

With the way Teomitl was working him over in return, he thought he might break first. The movement of that wonderful hand was enough to contend with, but then Teomitl turned his head to nuzzle blindly into his neck and—oh, there were those teeth. It pulled a shaky moan out of him as he arched his back, baring his throat for more. Teomitl didn’t need to be told; his fingers rippled hard as he sucked bruises into Acatl’s skin, and as the steadily building heat coiling low in his core threatened to overflow he managed to gasp, “Teo—“

“Hmm?” Teomitl pulled back to look up at him; even in the dark, he could see his smile.

It made him feel reckless; he had a moment of satisfaction at the way Teomitl’s eyes widened when he shifted his grip, the way his jaw fell open when Acatl worked his wrist at a slightly different angle. But he didn’t have long to revel in it, because then Teomitl’s mouth was on his in a ferocious kiss and that hand squeezed and he was falling apart with a shock like an earthquake, tremors racing through his veins as he came.

Oh. Oh, Duality. For a long moment, that was his only coherent thought. He was glad Teomitl was still kissing him like he might die if he stopped; he was sure whatever noises he’d be making otherwise would be downright obscene. It seemed to take an age for him to come back to himself, but then Teomitl pulled away with his mouth wet and his eyes hungry and he realized he’d still left something undone. Teomitl’s cock still throbbed in his loosened grasp, and that couldn’t be allowed to stand. “Mmm.”

Teomitl sucked in a breath, but whatever he was about to say came out as a ragged groan as Acatl took him in hand again. He seemed to be beyond speech, dropping his head onto Acatl’s shoulder and letting out shaky little whimpers against his skin that set his heated blood to pounding again. Acatl was suddenly glad he was spent for the moment; Teomitl’s reactions were distracting enough as they were, and the man deserved all his focus. This way, too, it was easier to revel in each hitched gasp and bone-deep tremor. Teomitl turned out to be incredibly responsive to the right stimuli; when Acatl’s hand slid upwards one final time he came with a drawn-out groan, hips jolting as though to chase that sensation as his cock pulsed. He couldn’t resist the urge to keep touching him, not until Teomitl’s voice caught on a near-whine of, “Acatl—nngh…”

He withdrew his hand and wiped damp fingers on his thigh, realizing as he did so that he was cold again. Their cloaks had pooled on the ground around them at some point, and the rapidly drying sweat on his skin reminded him of the night air they’d been trying to avoid. But Teomitl was in his arms like a burning brand, shifting to bury his face in his hair, and it kept the chill at bay. Acatl stroked his spine and felt him relax at the touch, a single thought coalescing out of the fog in his mind. I love you.

Teomitl’s murmur broke the silence. “I...I think...I can get back to sleep now.”

“Sleep.” His own limbs felt like stone as his racing pulse slowed; he barely had the energy to wrap their cloaks around them again. Somehow he managed it, and then he tucked his head against Teomitl’s and thought of absolutely nothing for a long time.

When next he opened his eyes, it was just past dawn. The sun hadn’t been up long enough to turn their surroundings into an oven yet, but he was still sticky, rather itchy, and almost too warm. He shifted, feeling the weight of two cloaks and Teomitl’s arm on top of him, and for the space of a good ten heartbeats he couldn’t remember why he’d thought that was a sensible idea. Right. It was cold...last night…

Memories struck one after the other, unforgiving as hail. Teomitl’s nightmare, confessed in the barest, bitterest whisper. The love rising in his heart like a flood. One kiss, and then another. And another.

The way Teomitl had touched him. The way—gods, the way he’d responded.

For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. He swallowed down a spike of nausea, squeezing his eyes shut as though that would keep him from remembering any more. It was useless; Teomitl’s head was on his shoulder, breath warm on his skin, and all he could think of was the way that breath had came out in an intoxicating near-sob of pleasure. When he risked turning his head, a faint twinge reminded him of Teomitl’s teeth, how the mix of pleasure and pain had turned him wanton and desperate for more.

He took a long, slow breath, counted to ten, and let it out again. What was I thinking? Duality, what I did—what we did, together—I cannot believe—! His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest. Teomitl was the one to make the first move, true, but I—he’s my brother-in-law! Mihmatini loves him! This will break her heart, and I…

And he hadn’t thought about her at all. Then again, last night he hadn’t been thinking about much of anything if it didn’t relate somehow to Teomitl’s mouth, Teomitl’s voice, the things Teomitl had been doing with his hands—gods, it was enough to make him flush with heat all over again. He shook his head, shuddering, and firmly banished the images from his mind. They’d made a terrible mistake. They’d talk about it like adults, and then agree never to do it again. He could handle heartbreak.

Teomitl stirred and stretched like a jaguar, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn as he blinked awake. “Mmm…”

He felt hollowed out, his heart replaced with ice. “Teomitl.”

The smile that had been starting to unfurl across Teomitl’s face vanished at his tone, and Acatl saw the exact moment he recalled what they’d done. He sat back, face flushed, and couldn’t quite seem to meet his eyes as he muttered, “Good morning.”

He didn’t know what to say in return. Rather than being the first one to bring it up, he stood and tied his cloak over his shoulder again, trying not to look at his own hands. The smooth cotton of their clothing reminded him too much of the heavy weight of Teomitl’s cock in his hand. His own flesh itched unpleasantly, and he hoped that their trek would take them near water. Surely the sorcerer couldn’t have gotten that far?

He cast out his priest-senses. No, the trail was still as clear as it had been the night before. Beside him Teomitl was dressing as well, and with his face turned away Acatl could make out the shadow of a mark below his ear. Desire and shame warred in his gut, and he had to close his eyes again.

And then he opened them. There was no use letting it fester. “About last night.“

Teomitl went very, very still. Then he lifted his head and turned back towards him. His face looked like it was carved from stone, but Acatl’s gaze dropped to his hands and saw how he clenched them into fists to stop them shaking. “I don’t regret it. I’m sorry, but I don’t. I can’t.”

He sucked in a breath that scorched his lungs, feeling his own fists clench. “I’ve misjudged you, then. I thought you a man of honor, a man who would stand by the vows you made to my sister—or at least be properly ashamed of having broken them in a moment of weakness.” Gods, she’ll be furious. Worse—heartbroken. And she’d have every right to be, after how we betrayed her.

Teomitl flinched, going a truly impressive shade of red. “Is that what you call what we did? A moment of weakness? Because I remember very well how you acted last night, and I definitely wasn’t the only one being weak.”

He’s right. It was going to be impossible for him to ever forget how he’d gone to pieces under Teomitl’s ministrations. Shame threatened to choke him, and he had to force the words out around it. “That doesn’t mean—I know I’m weak, but you...Teomitl, you are a married man! Mihmatini loves you. How could you do this to her?”

“Me?” Teomitl snorted. “She might still love me, but not in the way you’re thinking. Not since—well, you remember.”

The courtyard. Teomitl’s assembled warriors. Mihmatini with knives in her bloodied hands, ready to fight her own husband if he took one more step forward. Yes, Acatl remembered. Something in his heart twisted with a horrible mix of agony and sick, shameful hope. “Is there truly such a rift between you?”

“…” He was silent for a moment, but then he blew out a breath and shook his head. “We are...good friends, still. And I love her as a friend. I’ll gladly do my duty as her husband. But we spoke, after all that, and she asked me what had turned me so firmly against Tizoc in the first place. And I told her the truth, Acatl-tzin.” He met Acatl’s eyes, steady and serious. “I told her that it had nothing to do with his actions as Revered Speaker. The day I vowed to destroy him was the day he tried to have you slain.”

He couldn’t breathe. “Teomitl—“

Teomitl took a deep breath, dropping his gaze. “Anyway. We sort of bonded again over that, and...she’s very perceptive, you know that. It was easy for her to see who I was in love with.”

What. “You—what?!” It came out in a strangled-parrot squawk.

Teomitl fidgeted, running a hand through his hair and somehow making it messier. “I think she knew for a long time, actually. I swear to you, I would never have gone behind her back—I would have taken it to my grave if it grieved her. But...well. She approves.” He was blushing again. Acatl almost hated how much it made his heart melt. “She...she told me, before we left, that I should...ah, take advantage of our time alone together. But I don’t think she expected this! I certainly did not.”

It was almost too much to handle at once. He had to set a hand on his knife hilt for a moment, letting Mictlan scour his heart until he could think again. She knows about him. She suspected my own feelings, at least enough to encourage him to speak. And… He took a slow breath. He loves me. Now that he thought about it, he recalled Mihmatini pulling her husband aside to whisper something in his ear; he hadn’t been able to make out the words, but he thought back to how Teomitl’s face had flushed and kicked himself for not having asked sooner. “Neither...neither did I.”

Teomitl closed his eyes, looking pained, but when he opened them again his gaze was clear. “Acatl-tzin, I wish to apologize. I know this must be...uncomfortable for you. I won’t press my affections where they aren’t wanted—“

For once in his life Acatl’s tongue obeyed him, and he managed to blurt out, “I didn’t say that,” through what felt like his entire heart lodged in his throat. As Teomitl stepped back, eyes wide, he found words tumbling over each other in their haste to get out into the open air. “I’m not uncomfortable, I was never uncomfortable, your feelings are—Teomitl, I never thought I could ever have any of this!” Never. You were too young, too brilliant, too far above me, and then you were marrying Mihmatini and gods, it was safer to bury it, but now you stand here and you tell me this…!

Teomitl was still staring at him. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. “...But it’s something you want?”

“Yes.” Here in this moment all he had was the truth, even if saying it flayed him raw. I want you. I need you. I can’t regret last night either, not if this is how we got here.

Teomitl flung himself into his arms. He’d been half expecting it, but it still managed to take him by surprise; he found himself frozen for a moment before wrapping his arms around him in return. Even last night, they hadn’t been this close—chest to chest, he could feel Teomitl’s heartbeat like it was his own, could feel all the strength in his arms anchoring him to the earth. Teomitl buried his face in his cloak, breathing in slowly.

Then he lifted his head, and all Acatl could do was kiss him. It was different in daylight, with his mind clear; he could focus on the shape of Teomitl’s mouth and the way he sighed, soft and melting, when Acatl reached up to smooth a thumb along his cheekbone. “I love you.” It slipped out easily, without thought, in the heartbeat between one kiss and the next, and saying it aloud eased the tension in his chest. Teomitl made that next kiss hungry, and it was some time before he managed, “I cannot believe you love me back.”

Teomitl flushed, which was absolutely adorable. “This wasn’t how I was going to tell you,” he muttered. “Tlaloc’s lightning strike me, I had plans.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Mm. You’ll have to share them with me later.”

“I will.” His answering smirk was wicked, and Acatl remembered his talented hands with a shiver of faint arousal—but then his stomach growled, and he stepped back with a huff and a muttered, “When we get back.”

Right. It was easier to remember their mission now, with Teomitl not actively touching him. Still, Acatl had to take several deep breaths to center himself before checking his pack for day-old flatbread to break their fast with, only belatedly remembering to shed blood for the Sun and his patron. They had a sorcerer to hunt; it would be at least another half day, over hard ground, by the time they tracked him down. And when they returned…

When they returned, he was sure they’d continue where they’d left off. He was looking forward to it already.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #paladin writes stuff #not work safe

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orgasmiccontagion · 5 years ago

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In light of recent events and the pouring out of despair that I’ve seen on here among the various anarchist/insurrectionists/anti-civ individuals for the inevitably reformist recuperation of the uprisings in response to police brutality and white supremacy in America, I want to highlight a passage that I read in �� Critique of Chrisso and Odeteo’s Barbarians” by Frére Dupont, one of the authors responsible for writing “Nihilist Communism”. It may not be something we want to hear right now in response to what is transpiring, but there are some crucial points of critique being expounded here: “On what level does the militancy that C+O (Chrisso and Odeteo) validate signify to the self yes, we feel good to come off best after an encounter with the authorities, but to the authorities themselves and beyond them, to the existing structure, what value does any instance have? A burnt-out bank is a boon for builders, cleaning companies, cops, security advisers, property developers. A riot, like a forest fire, is good for business, cleans out the old, shock and awe. Capitalism makes capital out of conflict and disaster. Rioters and insurrectionists are not the most resistant elements in society, they are perhaps the most conscious, the most confrontational but they are also the most spectacular, the most self-conscious, the most prey to delusions of ‘people power.’ The insurrectionist is fine in his moment, and so many of them fall away exhausted, but they act only for themselves, they are not creating a better world, they are not at the front. They act for themselves, the extreme acts of a few will never be a substitute for the small acts of becoming human of the many. to acknowledge this, to accept the essentially selfish and subjective nature of the ‘black block’ is not to say we must not resist. On the contrary, we must continue. It is only to say, that there is no necessary connection with the outside through our desire for it. It is likely that our resistance, in the end counts in favor of existing authority and against the possibility for revolution. All we can say with certainty is that we can recognize what is not outside.” At a first glance of course we could dismiss this as counter-insurgency misrepresentation of insurrectionist action that has no purpose but to undermine the efforts made by the anarchists really out there throwing down. However, I think what Dupont is doing here is highlighting the burnout that anarchists feel time and time again is due to their failure to acknowledge that a few intensely radical individuals simply cannot through their own will annihilate a system as all encompassing as capitalism (and by extension the state and civilization) without acknowledging the efforts needed from those who are not already radicalized. Throughout my time spent on here the last couple of weeks I see pro-insurrectionist anarchists (myself included) giddy with excitement that because of riots/looting/precincts being burned down that we were on the cusp of a true apeshit moment in America. Unfortunately, within just over a week corporations, media, and the innumerable activist/careerist/opportunist rackets captured the virulent rage spreading throughout the metropolitan areas of America and beyond in order to reform us back in line once again. Due to the fact that (as is all too obvious) the vast majority of people do not have any ideas of a world “outside” the one which has ensconced all life within its totality (insert discussions on domestication, spectacles, the hyperreal, desire etc etc), the reformists are gaining the upper hand and the radical potentials are fizzling out due to counter-insurgency propaganda and worries among leftists and centrists of “de-legitimizing the movement”. However, getting excited about violent rebellion is one thing, but the subsequent crash into the reformist rackets shouldn’t lead anarchists into disappointment and defeatism, but rather revaluating and transparent criticism. Hence, this is why I want to launch deeper into what’s being said here. For one, the beginning of the passage discusses the emotional high radicals get off of clashes directly with the state and the institutions that protect them. Of course, this is a predictable reaction and one that should inspire more and more people to embrace their rage against the state. However, if the only places where these actions take place is in a few dozen large urban territories around the country, and if only an isolated number of businesses/police stations/institutions are attacked, how can we expect that this wound sundered in the death machines of capital will not close up in the blink of an eye? @corvid420 pointed out that cops that are resigning from large city police forces (NYPD for example) will likely move into the suburbs or smaller districts and be hired as cops there, suburbs which house the petit-bourgeois/bourgeois sectors of society (not to mention majorly white). These places have seen far less action in comparison but still encompass many of the characteristics as the big cities (shopping malls, police stations, jails, courthouses), and while these spaces of society still remain untouched there will not be any significant strides in working towards an abolition of capital.

To build off the previous point, insurrectionists run the risk of spectaclizing their efforts as we have already seen the media continue to use the rioting/looting argument to discredit the most angry portions of the revolt. The ontological problem of “becoming-imperceptible” in an age of smart phones, mass surveillance and police helicopters continues to pose an immense obstacle in struggles such as these. Isolated incidents of a burned AutoZone or shoe stores being looted in New York make it easy to highlight and demonize a subset of “unlawful individuals” who are “not paying honor to the legacy” of the state sanctioned murders of black people in America. More importantly, due to the ways in which people in capitalist society create identities based on brands and commodities, they will empathize with business that have suffered from the riots and looting first. They will mostly ignore the economic crisis brought on by COVID-19 that is influencing a lot of this action in the first place (and even if this devastating crisis wasn’t occurring, why should we care if we deny the surplus value from corporations and engage in our own excess?). Insurrection needs to be treated as an all or nothing affair, otherwise its integration into the spectacle is only a matter of time. Of course, as Dupont points out later in this passage, he doesn’t want the banks to stop burning, but rather wishes to point out that smaller actions against the logic of capital by the majority will do far more than a few insurrectionists trashing a Target (or other similar large displays of disobedience). Fortunately, I have seen more and more anarchists highlighting the importance of this lately on here as of late, although at times like these those suggestions get buried under the desire to go out and break shit (I’m guilty of this as well).

Finally, and perhaps the most controversial portion of this excerpt, is Dupont’s discussion on the insurrectionist’s position in the overall revolutionary potential against capitalism. They highlight the individualistic nature of insurrectionists, and how in the moment they act mostly for their own desires. They are not, as Dupont argues, the “most resistance group” among those that suffer under capitalism, but rather the “most conscious”. This consciousness is perhaps the greatest strength insurrectionists have, in that these anarchists will embrace the most violent and extreme measures to go to in order for the current order to collapse. However, it is what also leads anarchists to feeling burnout when revolts and protests continue to get recuperated. This is where I agree the most with Dupont and see this passage as mostly coming across from a point of empathy rather than contempt. However, wanting to attack the state/capitalism/civilization from an individualist perspective is a necessary means to act within the context of the current struggle. This I think is a misunderstanding on Dupont’s part. The individualist tendencies of insurrectionary anarchists does not stop at the singular level but creates trajectories toward molecular forms. Through individuals enunciating their own struggles in the various spaces of the capitalist world, we can found relationships unmediated by the haunting specters of civilized life and use each other to the advantage of all. However, to the credit of Dupont, the desires of most people do not align with a revolutionary trajectory and therefore those individualistic tendencies can come across as impotent and ineffective. This of course is where future struggles and crises will have to compound on each other in order to make a push toward a different direction. The sobering observation of the crisis still being out of sight for most of those around us does not mean it can always be pushed to the periphery forever. Insurrectionists cannot be at a “front” because simply put there is nothing to be in front of, and they cannot create a better world because it isn’t up to them alone to create it. This is the real struggle not just for anarchists but anyone who rejects the current state of things. It is the struggle to form a movement, a revolutionary trajectory, when at the present there is hardly anything to mobilize.

Overall, I find Dupont’s insights to be valuable at a time like this, despite some of the points I found a bit off. Using this passage as a way to focus on the response to not only what’s going on now but the inevitable crises of tomorrow will allow some necessary reflections on how things went down undesirably. I welcome any positive or negative feedback/commentary to this response and how it fits with the unrest going on currently in the United States and abroad. I do not wish to speak on behalf of anyone else, only from my own perspective and how I see the current movement unfolding and how other anarchists around me (who have much more experience in this than I) are reacting.

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existentialrebel · 5 years ago

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DO ANARCHISTS DEMAND THE IMPOSSIBLE?

Disclaimer : I’m not an anarchist nor anarchist theorist, this is part of engagements and getting to know anarchists better without hearing it from Marxist-Leninists and equally this is a brief and incomplete overview and besides I feel like all theories that emanated from French’s enlightenment, British empire or German, are just European essentialism.

The voluble of ideas, attitudes and beliefs which can be defined by the term anarchism have not received much attention from political theorists or activists There are a number of reasons for this neglect which we will discourse about in this paper or possibly beyond.

The name anarchism is often associated with disorderly, hysterical, irrational or a group of people who don’t have the capacity to wage any political struggle, Marxist-Leninists would even at some point in history lobby each other in the Revolutionary party to oust anarchists.

In this short paper, I’m not going to repeat what other students have said on this question but I want us to unlearn a few myths about anarchocommunists. I’m not going to dwell much on personalities rather on the ideological side or political side.

Of course, it’s important to note that anarchists didn’t just reject everything Marxist-Leninists proposed but they disagreed ideologically and politically, so today we can’t say anarchists were intellectual thugs who rejected without understanding Marxism, for example on Bakunin seemed to agree with Marx on factory workers being the vanguard of revolutionary activity.

I think it’s also important to note that, Mikhail Bakunin was at some point a member of the Young Hegelians in the 1840s before its dissolution, that’s where they(with Hegel and Marx) took separate ways on the emancipation of the working class and the proletariat.

For starters, Anarchists are social revolutionaries who seek a stateless, classless, voluntary, cooperative federation of decentralizated communities based upon social ownership, individual liberty and autonomous self-management of political, social and economic life, the poor working class first and everything else shall follow, that’s one of their ideological principles.

Anarchists reject Marxism suppositions in many cases, for example on organization building, they were vehemently against the Marxist-Leninist vanguard party, dictatorship of the proletariat and democratic centralism. They saw them as tools or ways to further keep the proletariat at the very position they were under anti-socialist state and this led to Marxist-Leninists being referred to as “State Socialists”, Kropotkin at some point calls it unbridled oppression of the proletariats.

Even on women and people of color or black people anarchists were more tolerant, unlike Marxist-Leninists, anarchists were eager to learn a thing or two from feminists, they believed in taking jurisdiction from the state to the body and studied Wilhem Reich ideas on sexual liberation. Marxist-Leninists viewed this in economic terms as if women were forced into prostitution due to financial pressure. Anarchists wanted to address sexual morality which was made of the existence of prostitution, to me this makes Anarchists one of the most imaginative and outstanding thinkers of our time.

For Anarchists, for a revolution to take place you need large-scale and coordinated movements so to drive the revolutionary agenda of the masses on the ground, they were opposed to hierarchical, power-tripping leadership (elite) which suppresses the masses and forces their own agenda. This is evident in all Marxist-Leninists parties, the abuse of internal party democracy or democratic centralism, development of cults, Anarchists were Mass-based and believed that to reach every decision, there must be wide consolidation and consultation.

The supercillious or imperious Vladimir Lenin and his conceptualization of a vanguard party was very condescending and what’s common (all vanguard parties) is that the revolutionary party is portrayed as the only party that can take the masses to liberation and that dictatorship of the proletariat means dictatorship of the revolutionary party not the masses which anarchists strongly opposed.

In Anarchist groups, proposals are talked about by members (none of whom have authority over another), dissenting minorities are respected, and each individual's participation is voluntary. Everyone has the right to agree or disagree over policy and actions, and everyone's ideas are given equal weight and consideration. No decision may be made until each individual member or affiliated group that will be affected by that decision has had a chance to express their opinion on the issue. Individual members and affiliated groups retain the option to refuse support to specific federation activities. In true democratic fashion, decisions for the federation as a whole must be made by a majority of its members.

Trotsky once attempted to give an inane critique to anarchists, he alluded to anarchists as people who weren’t much of political active or were against activism, very false, anarchists opt for direct action because they don’t want to be like Lenin who wanted to take power and put it in the Bolshevik party which will still largely be oppressive towards the working class through its “eternal transition state”

Anarchism also appealed to a lot of intellectuals in Europe and all over the world, you have Zapata movement of the Mexico in 1900s, American anarchists, the Asian anarchists (Japan, China and other Asian states) and Spain(Spanish anarchist revolution) as well, one of the places where anarchists really found expression amongst the poor.

Of course we can’t deny the decline of Anarchism in the 21st century, the west together and the authoritarian Socialists made sure the theory and its advancers is/are buried forever hence why people have been reluctant to even bother reading or learning about the movement but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have the theoretical teeth to evoke a people’s-led revolution.

In Addition, I posed this question because I was looking at my party, the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), particularly the Student’s wing (EFFSC) where there’s an emergence of anarcho-communists who can be characterized by an radical appeal compared to Marxist-Leninists who want to worship the state led by Cyril Ramaphosa whilst the latter is demanding total obliteration of the state.

The emergence of Anarchists within the EFF is a good thing or rather positive or a sign of intellectual development, but I’m afraid a Marxist-Leninist party is the same as the bourgeoisie when it comes to annihilating those who have a different view, we have seen the usage of the party’s secret police or militia called Defenders of the Revolution (DOR) who brutally beat up the working class for sinister reasons under the auspices of the Senior party leadership and as well as the apprehension of internal political dynamics, especially for Julius Malema.

Henceforth why I’m off the view or quarell that anarchists do not demand the impossible, all their submissions not limited to this opinion piece are not being mystified with getting the impossible, let other schools of thought flourish and be tested.

It will be the anarchists who will sharpen the consciousness of the membership against such bourgeoisie-like traits and subsequently the poor masses of our people and this is very important since there’s never been anarchists in Africa looking at an African perspective or some of its proposals being utilized.

Therefore, hypothetically, Anarchists build organizations in order to build a new world, not perpetuate domination over the masses of people. We must build an organized, coordinated international movement aimed at transforming the globe into a mass commune and the center of it is liberation of black people, I think Such would be a great overleap in human evolution and a gigantic revolutionary stride. It would change the world as we know it and end the special problems long plaguing humankind. It would be a new era of freedom and fulfillment.

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seasonofthegeek · 6 years ago

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And Then There Was One: Competition

Written for Kagami Appreciation Week at @wearemiraculous <3

In an alternate dimension, there is a different set of Miraculous holders from the ones we know that are facing an ongoing threat of citizens being infected with a Miraculous-created illness that gives them powerful abilities but drives them mad until they are akin to zombies. This is that team’s story, and it is not a happy story.

“The probability of you getting a higher count than me at this point is laughable.” Firefox held out his hand and his robot assistant dropped a grouping of blood-filled syringes into his gloved palm.

Onyx huffed as she dropped another betabug to the ground, pinning the struggling woman’s arms behind her back. “All I need are my own abilities to beat you. I don’t have to rely on help.”

“Foxtail counts as my abilities,” her teammate shot back. “I created him; therefore, I’m still beating you.”

“Cut it out. We have work to do.” Sting’s voice carried over their communicators and both heroes shared a look before getting back to work breaking up the mob of super-powered victims. _______________________

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Kagami commented as Luka dropped heavily to the couch. “You have a responsibility to this team. Where were you today? I thought I saw you when we started fighting and then you disappeared. Max and I had to take out thirty or so by ourselves.”

Jagged cleared his throat pointedly from his spot across the room and Kagami pursed her lips. “Not entirely by ourselves,” she amended.

“I had to take care of some other things,” Luka murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did everything go okay?”

“As okay as it ever does.” She noted the way Duusu draped herself over her holder’s shoulder, fanning her tail feathers over him in an almost protective manner. There was a small part of her that wanted to ask what was wrong but she’d learned her lesson about trying to get involved in teammates’ lives more than absolutely necessary. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“She’s simply sore she can’t get a higher body count than me.” Max entered the room with a tray of the blood samples he’d had Foxtail procure during the fight. The floating robot followed behind him, digital eyes downcast as Trixx slept soundly on his head. “The illness seems to be spreading. These samples are significantly more infected than the last we took nine days ago.”

“Which means someone is still using the Ladybug Miraculous to power them,” Jagged sighed, leaning back in his chair. “The abilities should’ve petered out by now without a source of power.”

Kagami felt herself stiffen and tried to appear relaxed and unaffected. He was dead. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.

“We saw Adrien die,” Luke said tiredly, voicing her thoughts. “He created the betabugs and it killed him and destroyed the earrings. There was nothing left after the explosion. It has to be something else.”

“We saw a lot of people die that day,” Jagged added softly, closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. “So without the Ladybug Miraculous, there’s no way to reverse this?”

“The betabug abilities are connected to the power they were created from,” Max explained for what definitely wasn’t the first time. “The likelihood of finding another power source that would be able to override it without the earrings is—“

“Possible,” a quiet voice interjected. “I mean, I think anyway.” Marc stood in the doorway as Nooroo hovered by his shoulder.

Luka stood abruptly. “Where’s—“

“Contained for now.”

Kagami looked between the men with a frown. “What are you hiding?” She felt Plagg stir and he blinked up at her with sleepy eyes from his place tucked in on the couch beside her. She reached down to run a finger along his head even as her attention zeroed back in on Luka and Marc.

Marc’s eyes widened. “Not hiding!” he swore, holding up his hands. “It was just something I needed to see for myself and I thought this was the best way since I’m not much of a combat fighter.”

Jagged was suddenly standing and crossing the room in long strides, Pollen hurrying with him. “Tell me you didn’t bring one of those things here, mate. Please tell me that.”

Nooroo nuzzled his holder’s cheek as Marc shrunk in on himself. “I don’t like to lie,” he whispered. “So if that’s what you want me to tell you…”

“Where?” The older man loomed over him.

Kagami noticed the way Marc tried to hold his ground. He wasn’t very brave. She’d argued with Jagged about giving him the Butterfly Miraculous but they needed the help and in the end, she’d been overruled. So if he was willing to stand up against Jagged and possibly she and Max, this was something he found incredibly important. She watched his eyes cut back toward the hall as if he was going to make a run for it.

Not just important then; this was someone he wanted to protect.

Kagami tried to think back on the things she’d learned about Marc. Years ago, she wouldn’t have bothered since she considered him a coward and a liability but she’d found that there were advantages to paying attention to even the little things. She’d learned it too late, but she’d learned it nonetheless.

There’d been a boyfriend. It was coming back in snippets now. Some kind of artist or writer; some occupation Kagami had never had the leisure for. He’d been one of the first infected and Marc had been forced into hiding before Luka and Jagged came across him during a patrol and brought him to the safehouse.

“Nathaniel.” She pulled the name out of the recesses of her mind and saw Marc flinch.

“I spotted him in the crowd.” Luka joined the other man’s side. “We just thought—“

“You didn’t think,” she cut him off. “If either of you had thought, you would’ve realized what an absolutely terrible idea this was.” She finally stood and crossed the room. “Take us to him, Marc.”

“Wait! I just need to explain!” Marc backed up with raised hands. ”I think I can help him with the butterflies. Please, you have to let me try!”

“Sorry, mate. I know you’re new to the team but this isn’t how things are done.” Jagged glared at Luka. “Some of us should know that by now.”

“I love him!” Marc cried out and then covered his mouth with a soft sobbing sound.

“We all loved someone, and they’re all gone now. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.” Jagged moved past him and toward the hall and Marc hurried after him with pleading words.

“Say something,” Luka urged, glaring at Kagami. “He’ll listen to you.”

In that moment, what Kagami really wanted to do was knock Luka to the floor. She wanted to scream and shout and hit him until he finally understood. They’d lost everything, everyone. She’d watched Adrien spiral after he found out everything his parents had been doing behind his back. He’d been seen as Lucky Beetle, the hero of Paris, and all the while, Gabriel and Emilie had been using the other Miraculous in their possession to conduct experiments to try to gain more power beyond what the artifacts offered. They’d been creating the monsters Lucky Beetle had to fight. They’d caused deaths and destruction and all in the name of progress.

And it had broken him.

Kagami watched her partner’s light dim. His parents had been arrested and justice had been served but it left them both feeling empty and uncertain about their position in the world. Kagami had taken the opportunity to strive to be better, to help more people, to take steps to prevent anything like that happening again. She made sure the citizens of Paris saw Onyx patrolling the streets to keep them safe.

Adrien had gone in another direction.

She looked at the fire in Luka’s eyes and it was a painful reminder of who and what she’d already lost.

“There are rules for a reason,” she replied, voice quiet but strong, as she moved past him to follow Jagged and Marc.

Buy me a cherry coke?

#And Then There Was One AU #kagami tsurugi #jagged stone #luka couffaine #marc anciel #max kante #oops I drabbled again

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eldritchsardine · 7 years ago

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BBRae Week Day 7: I Never Asked To Be Like This

Raven sat in her signature armchair in the Titans Tower common room, staring blankly at the book hovering before her without truly seeing the words. Her chin rested in a palm as she hunched over listlessly, posture masking the torment of her mind, nearly overwhelmed with a torrent of thoughts and feelings that she struggled to push down, to quench. It almost made her long for a time that she wasn't bothered by things such as emotions, undaunted by sentiments and the like.

Almost.

But dwelling on her flaws of the past would get her nowhere, so she quickly cut off that train of thought, instead focusing on what lay before her.

She had a decision to make.

Of course, it was quite possible that the choice would be made for her, whether by Robin, the Justice League, police, or some other party. She almost wished for such an outcome, as it would take the oppressive weight of the dilemma off of her tired, worn shoulders.

It would be so much easier for me if I was just kicked off of the team by force.

After the thought crossed her mind, she realized its selfishness and berated herself for it. If that happened, there would no doubt be conflict between other members who didn't agree with the sentence, and could possibly even lead to a break-up of the Titans. She couldn't allow something like that to happen, and going to others for their input or advice would only bring anguish to them as well. No, this had to be her decision alone.

With that decided, she relaxed slightly, happy to have at least one issue solved. Now she could focus on where to go from there.

As she sat, the main television screen in the room, which had been set to a random news channel earlier before the alert, caught her attention. It depicted helicopter footage of the aftermath from a large battle in her very city. Smaller craters and cracks could be seen in buildings, streets, and cars in roughly a two block radius. The most noticeable feature, however, was what the camera seemed to focus on. The tell-tale signs of a much larger explosion than the others which had collapsed several buildings directly in the center of the area, inside of which many civilian paramedics and police huddled.

The headline read, "Notorious Villain Doctor Light Killed During Battle With Teen Titans. No Other Casualties Reported."

As a reporter appeared on the screen, the footage relegated to a smaller corner, the half-demon found her gaze locked onto the words. They swam before her eyes in a haze, screamed at her consciousness accusingly, a relentless reminder that she was-

"Raven!"

The empath started, losing concentration as her book fell to the floor before her, turning to the doorway as Starfire glided through it, followed by Robin. The alien immediately flew straight to the half-demon's chair, emotions radiating concern, the Boy Wonder close behind.

"We returned home as quickly as possible after you did the departing," the redhead began. "Friend Beast Boy should arrive soon as well, though friend Cyborg remained to participate in the paperwork and cleanup."

Robin caught up with his girlfriend while running his hands through his hair, which was currently is disarray. "Star carried me," he said by way of explanation.

Raven remained silent as they spoke, merely staring back at them from under her hood, debating between simply waiting them out or conjuring a portal to escape herself.

However, she simply sighed, resigned for now to talking to the team's power couple as Robin continued. "I didn't expect you to be here. I thought you'd be... I'm not sure. Not here."

Raven decided to act, for now, as though nothing had occurred. Her teammates seemed to be doing the same. "Fascinating," she deadpanned.

"Look, we don't blame you for what happened," her leader began, dashing any hope that she had of avoiding the subject. "It was an accident. You just lost it for a second there, nothing we can't work on a fix for together."

"Yes!" Starfire added loudly, lifting a finger in agreement. "You should not be doing the feeling down, friend Raven. This situation is most certainly not the fault of yourself."

Finally, the dark girl responded with a scoff. "Really? How can you say that? Just because I didn't want it to happen doesn't mean that I'm not a ki-."

The common room door opened once again, cutting her off as the trio turned to see the newcomer, a lithe green-skinned young man with eyes and hair to match, stride through them and pause at the top of the stairs. He quickly glanced around the room before his gaze settled on the empath, still sitting in her chair.

She froze.

Raven was no stranger to disapproval and other similar emotions directed her way due to her heritage, but she had never held much stock in the opinions of most others. Those who looked at her that way didn't truly know her, and therefore whatever judgements they had held no weight at all. There were very few people whose opinions truly mattered to her.

And one of those people was currently staring at her with emotions clouded with anger, fear, concern, and sadness.

Disappointment.

He was judging her.

He was disappointed in her.

Her eyes began to sting with tears at the realization, and without a second thought a portal was conjured in front of her chair and she stood to stride through, cutting off her team's cries to wait by closing it behind her.

Finding herself in her room, she reached into a pocket and withdrew her yellow disc-like communicator, staring longingly at it. The piece of tech in her hand meant more than she could have ever imagined.

It proved that, regardless of her parentage, she could strive for good. It reminded her of the position in the world that she had earned for herself. And it represented the people whom had done it alongside her, had been with her since the very beginning, had loved and trusted her, and made her finally feel like something akin to a person.

The tears almost fell as she dropped it onto her desk with a resounding thud, but she held them back.

Barely.

She then turned to the bag sitting on her bed, and felt a self of relief that she had the sense to pack beforehand regardless of what decision she ended up making as a precaution, as her teammate's voices and knocks were heard from her door, accompanied by their jumbled, frantic emotions.

She took one last look around the room, this sanctuary that she had adopted and made her own all those years ago. Reminiscing over the countless memories it contained, good and bad, happy and heartbreaking.

But she knew that she couldn't delay or afford any sentimentalities, and with a wave of a hand another dark gateway waited before her. With one more glance about the room, the last she would likely ever see of it, she walked through the portal.

-:0:-

When Raven exited the black doorway and took in her surroundings, she was almost surprised. She stood upon rocks overlooking an expansive body of water, stretching out to the horizon. Land accompanied it for a time before ending a short ways out, meaning that the place she stood was inside of a bay. She also knew without turning around that directly behind her towered a huge T-shaped building. One that she had for years called home.

She smiled a wry, bittersweet smile, before breathing in the air around her and admiring her surroundings once more, memorizing every tiny detail, from the beautiful way the setting sun reflected off the water, creating a stream of fire running from where it kissed the waves to the land, to the flicks of birds who were constantly flying above the water, winging around gracefully to rest upon the still surface only to take flight again, to the peculiar shape of a rock near her foot protruding out of the island into the bay.

She would miss this place. More than she could imagine. But she didn't have a choice.

"So you're leaving?"

She flinched at the voice, whirling around to see the very person she had ran from standing mere feet away on the rocks, emerald eyes staring emotionlessly back at her.

Beast Boy began to walk forward and she tensed in trepidation, only to be replaced by confusion as he continued right past her and took a seat on the rocks, feet hanging off the edge. He glanced back to her, his gaze questioning, along with the hint of a challenge.

Raven sighed, before dropping her bag and trudging to his side, and sitting down as well, albeit reluctantly.

"You're leaving," Beast Boy repeated. It wasn't a question this time, merely an emotionless statement.

She replied, just as unfeeling. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Garfield, you know why," she answered wearily. "I've been warning everyone about how dangerous I am since we met, and no one listened, and now someone is dead."

"Yea, Doctor Light. Big loss there," the changeling scoffed.

Raven shot him a disgusted look. "Regardless of who it was, I just killed someone. A life was ended, because I wasn't strong enough to remain in control of myself. And who's to say that next time it won't be an innocent bystander? We were just lucky that the houses I demolished were already empty. Or what if it's Star, or Robin? What if it's you? I can't..." she trailed off, unsure if she could maintain her cold, even tone if she continued.

Her teammate turned to her, fixing her with his bright green gaze, imploring her with his eyes. "Rae, that won't happen. You'd never heard us. You'd never hurt me." He paused, before adopting a bittersweet smile. "Well, other than when you toss me through walls or into the bay."

Raven ignored the attempt at humor. "You say that like I have a choice in the matter."

"Well I think you do have one, at least more than you say, but one thing that you definitely have a choice in is whether you run away and leave." The green teen's voice had grown stern, hardened, almost as if he was lecturing her. As if he knew better than her. As if he understood her.

"Yes, I can chose between putting my family's lives in danger or not," she growled in response, returning his gaze with a glare.

Beast Boy shook his head in disappointment. "Raven, your demons will always catch up to you eventually. I just want to see you stand up and face them instead of running away. Fight them. Beat them. You've done it before with Trigon, why not again?" His emotions began to spike as he spoke, attacking her with wave after wave of concern, sadness, and disappointment.

The anger rushed out of the dark empath as quickly as it had come, replaced only by hopelessness and despondency. "Because this time, the demon I need to defeat is myself."

"So what?!" He exclaimed. "You can beat anything, you're you!" He said it so convincingly, as if that were all the evidence he needed to prove his point.

"You don't think I've tried?!" Her voice rose as well, emotion fueling it. All around, rocks began to be consumed by a dark aura, unacknowledged by both teens. "If I didn't think I possibly could have kept control, I never would have come here in the first place. But I was wrong. I'm too weak."

"So you're going to run away," her teammate replied, tone derisive. "Because that takes so much strength."

She bristled once again. "I am prepared to leave behind all that I enjoy and love, just for the well-being and safety of people like you! Don't you dare try to judge me," she hissed back.

"It takes more strength to stay and fight for those things," Beast Boy countered. "So in that case I guess you're right. You are weak."

Raven starred at the changeling in shock, a look he returned with a challenge in his eyes, raising his chin in defiance. He had never spoken to her in such a... scornful way before. The emotions she detected from him were similar, still centered around that terrible sense of disappointment. Disappointment in her. As if this were all her doing, her fault.

Like she was in control of this. Like she had a choice. Like she wanted this.

Raven stood up, staring down at him furiously, eyes stinging. "I never asked to be like this, Beast Boy!" She all but yelled at him, his expression never wavering. "You think I enjoy pushing down my emotions and feelings, not allowing myself to feel, not allowing myself to live, all just so I don't kill those around me?! You think I want this?!"

She was cut short when the green teen stood as well, now returning her angered look. "And do you think you're the only one who hates what you are?!"

Her breath caught in her throat, surprise overwhelming her rage for a brief second. "What are you-."

"Do you know why I'm a vegetarian?" His voice was more controlled now, but expression and emotions still reflecting anger, hate, though she didn't think directed at her.

Bewildered by the sudden change of topic, Raven merely stared back at him, caught off guard. "Because you turn into those animals, and it would be like eating yourself..." she retired into silence uncertainly as he began shaking his head.

"Didn't think so," Beast Boy continued bitterly. He turned away, looking out to the water once more, still standing. "Sure that's a part and what I tell everyone, but more of an excuse than anything. When my parents died and before I met the Doom Patrol in Africa, I was given to my uncle, Galtry. When he looked at me, all he saw was a freak. However, I was a useful freak. He kept me as an animal, locked in a cage and collared, and forced me to do his dirty work for him with my powers. He starved me and hurt me. Until finally one day when he beat me worse than usual, I snapped. My animal instincts took over, and I..." this time it was his turn to trail off, suffocatingly strong self-disgust reigning over his other emotions and nearly overpowering her before she could force it down.

"That's why I don't eat meat," he finally finished.

"Garfield," she began softly, though was unsure of what to say. All previous hurt, uncertainty, and anger were forgotten. So instead, she merely reached for him, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder, which was shaking nearly imperceptibly. The shudders wracking his body seemed to calm slightly when she made contact with him. Or at least, she hoped they did.

"I never asked to be like this either, Rae," he murmured. "But I'm still here." And along with the words came more emotion, this time a deep-seated caring, along with affection.

Love.

Raven was nearly floored by the influx of feeling, but was distracted by a harsh cracking sound. She glanced away from the changeling to see that her powers had been wreaking havoc on the island, large rocks breaking off and falling into the water below, cracks running the surface, her black magic encasing it all.

The sight merely strengthened her resolve and she moved to back away, to leave him, but Beast Boy's hand placed over hers, still on his shoulder, brought her pause. "Look around, Rae. What do you see?"

She snorted. "More proof that I need to leave before I hurt anyone else."

"Really?" He replied. "Because all I see are some rocks breaking. Tell me, when have your emotions ever damaged something important? Your communicator, one of our vehicles, or even Cy himself? He's practically made out of electronics, and you've never even blown one of his fuses."

"I don't know if he has any fuses," Raven muttered halfheartedly, but he was not to be deterred, turning to look her in the eyes once more, his emerald gaze now flooded with emotion.

"Rae, you have more control over this than you realize. And even if you didn't, I'd still accept any risk I needed to if it meant you'd still be a part of my life," he told her, voice strong with conviction, heated by caring. "Because even if you never asked to be like this, I don't want you any other way."

After he finished, Raven simply stared at him silently, and him at her, emotions jumping between their eyes, their bodies, their souls. Trust, caring, love. It was overwhelming for the empath, and she was swept away in the tide, lost in a weightless yet unshakeable pressure of sentimentality.

She struggled to reign in the emotions of both herself and the changeling, and formulate a proper response, not even sure what it should be herself. Finally, she found the willpower to once again make use of the English language, and turned her face downwards to hide behind her hood, though it did nothing to lessen the assault of his emotions on hers. "Thanks." She stopped, choked with feeling. "You too."

After another short quiet, she spoke up again. "We should get back inside."

His face lit up, hope and joy flooding his boyish features and emotions, bringing her a warm, pleasant feeling as well, both from his expression and emotions transferred to her. "So you're staying?!"

Raven allowed herself a small smile. "Someone needs to be around to remind you how terrible your jokes are."

Beast Boy didn't respond, but instead swept the dark empath up in a tight hug, pressing her to him desperately. And though she generally was against physical contact of any kind, she decided that she would allow it just this once.

And when he pulled away, briefly only to come close once again, closer than before this time, mere centimeters separating them, to gaze into her eyes one last time, noses brushing each other's, she once again chose to let it slide, and closed the space between them. A foreign but wonderful warmth erupted inside of her at the sensation, and her eyes quickly slid closed, bringing a hand to cup his face automatically as their lips danced slowly, passionately, against the other's. His arms slid around her, keeping her anchored to him, and she sighed into his mouth.

The kiss was languid and agonizingly slow, a gradual burning fire that eventually began to ignite between them, stoked by their passion. Raven finally allowed herself to be completely and utterly taken by his emotions as it continued, and in return shared hers with him, inundated by raw feeling. They mixed together, until she was unsure where her emotions ended and his began, and they were one as she surrended wholly to the sense of pure love.

That is, until his tongue brushed her lips, and with a deafening crash the rocks they were standing on shattered, plunging them into the waiting bay, the chill water shocking her back to reality with a gasp. And yet, when she saw her teammate's confused, flustered expression when he surfaced beside her, sputtering in disarray, she couldn't help but laugh.

Because they may have never asked to be the way they were, but Trigon be damned if they let that get in the way of each other.

And with that, BBRae Week 2018 is over. I hope you all enjoyed reading what I came up with, if you want more feel free to check out my Fanfic account, link in my bio. Shameless plugs aside, this was a cool first thing like this I’ve ever done, loved the submissions from other people as well. Sayonara!

#bbrae week 2018 #bbrae #fanfic #fanfiction #day seven

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eddievee · 7 years ago

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Gay and Sober

I’m intimidated by the thought of writing about this. There are multiple reasons as to why I perhaps shouldn’t express these thoughts. However, I have a problem. I have a problem and I feel as though trying to articulate it will help me cope. It is my hope that friends and family members will read this and understand my struggle. Maybe they or someone on the internet could also find solace in my story.

Basically, I have a drinking problem. Call me an alcoholic. Call me an addict. Any term under the umbrella of substance abuse likely applies. I write this at twenty four. Looking back over the past liquored up eight years of my life, the most traumatic experiences and biggest setbacks I’ve endured have had to do with alcohol. I pinned a guy in my dorm to the ground at eighteen and nearly got expelled from university. I went psychotic at twenty-one, experiencing auditory hallucinations and paranoid delusions. My psychiatrist deduced that it all transpired because I went off of my psychoactives cold turkey and started to self-medicate with wine. That turn of events forced me to withdraw from school for almost a year. In that time, I left random objects on my university president’s doorstep and nearly got arrested for trespassing. I also showed up drunk to the undergraduate library after withdrawal from classes and had to be escorted out by police. My relationship with alcohol is distinctly self-destructive and volatile. In March, I got hit by a motorist after a night out of drinking. I had recently quit a managerial position after over two years working there, lined up a prospective job with greater pay, and a couple of my coworkers bought me Jack Daniel’s as a farewell present. I wrote a goodbye letter that evidently still has a place of honor in the store. It was a bittersweet goodbye, but I was leaving a staff that I knew was going to miss me. From my end, that feeling was mutual. I also had a solid positive reference in my back pocket from my time there. I was ecstatic. To leave a job I really didn’t like was fabulous. To feel as though I was moving on in my career was even better. It was time to celebrate, of course! So, I imbibed. I guzzled hard liquor by myself and went to my usual haunt. I drank more there and tried to ride home on my bicycle. That’s when it all happened. The injury was severe. I sustained contusions on both sides of my frontal lobe and cracked a few bones in my skull. Emergency services were called and I was rushed to the hospital. There, it was determined that I was at a .27 blood alcohol content. Had I consumed a couple more drinks that night, I would have been legally dead. At the hospital, I was put into a medically induced coma and given a room in intensive care. The coma lasted roughly a month and I received inpatient physical, occupational, and speech therapy for another month before discharge. Multiple doctors, nurses, and therapists told me that based on the severity of the injury, I was expected to be discharged by November. I remember visiting the intensive care unit after being moved to the rehab unit. Multiple doctors and nurses who managed my case expressed verbal and physical disbelief that I was standing and walking. Several entered the unit for their shift, saw me, and would throw their hands in the air and turn around before greeting me. I don’t know the totality of their experiences in medicine, but I imagine several of their cases don’t end up walking and talking a month after coming out of a coma. They were unquestionably shocked to see me so relatively well.

Basically, I almost died. Mortality was clarified for me in March. The physical toll alone was nothing short of traumatic. In spite, I’m happy that my recovery has gone so unexpectedly well. I’ve gained 25 pounds of muscle back, I was discharged from outpatient therapies after two weeks, and I’m now looking at the possibility of returning to work. However, I’m not totally well right now. Despite all of the strides I’ve made over the past three months, I know I have an immense amount of work to do to get healthy again. However, I’m ill at this point for reasons unrelated to the somatic impact of my auto accident. The psychological consequences of my injury came later and asymmetrically. With the physiological component consuming most of my time, energy, and focus initially, I simply didn’t know how what happened was going to impact my mental health. With BPD on my diagnostic record, I’ve been depressed, anxious, and occasionally psychotic for much of my adult life. I’ve been in and out of psychiatry and psychotherapy since I was 18 years old. I’ve been hospitalized for psychological reasons twice. Having a degree in psychology and women’s studies, I know the annals and the phenomenology of mental suffering. Through both talk therapy sessions and undergraduate study, I am familiar with coping mechanisms and understand quite a bit about mental illness as a whole. With that said, the knowledge doesn’t necessarily lead to better mental health outcomes for my own struggles. I shouldn’t be drinking at all. In certain traumatic brain injury cases, to consume alcohol is to possibly have a seizure. I also developed blood clots in the hospital and was put on a powerful blood thinner. I’m off that prescription now, but it could have had complications with hard liquor. None of that kept me away from the bottle. I experienced a radical shift. Prior to the injury, I was working overtime hours every week and dating someone I was passionately in love with. He had a key to my apartment after one week of love drunk stupor. Suddenly, I was unemployed and single, my boyfriend breaking up with me in a hospital bed. It was jarring. That particular adjustment was perhaps as traumatic as the injury itself. I had free time and loneliness and ample opportunity for self loathing. Libations were perfect to indulge that stress and sorrow. Got a problem? Pour some plastic jug vodka on it. Let’s Popov off. I mentioned that I had a history of making serious, lasting, and self destructive decisions by drinking prior to March, but I was always able to control myself. I could stop. Now, I can’t. I can consume an entire fifth of eighty to one hundred proof liquor in one evening. If there’s some leftover when I wake up hungover, I drink it that morning. I can’t handle my liquor anymore. I’ve permanently damaged some friendships by sending weird and alarming text messages when I’m blackout drunk. Normally comprised of suicidal ideation, they’re pathetic pleas of “kill me.” Alongside the profound lack of self control, that depth of depression is what’s particularly alarming to me. I don’t want to get sober, but if I keep going like this, I’m going to die. It’ll be at my hand or with a broken bottle. Maybe both. At the least, my liver will fail or I’ll withdraw into delirium tremens or develop Korsakoff’s amnesia. Something. I’ll say again: I don’t want to get sober. However, little of that has to do with alcohol’s effects on my brain and body. Those certainly are factors, but it’s not the bulk of the story. I don’t need a drink to get through the day. It’s fun to be drunk! I like to party. I like relaxing inhibitions, but I don’t need a drink to function. The social and celebratory elements of drinking make it harder to leave behind. I’ve quit abusing other substances in the past because I was almost always using by myself. I like people more than I like drugs. Alcohol is different because that line between people and drugs is blurrier. There’s a distinctly social component to drinking that bears salience to my life. I’m gay. Bars and clubs, the spaces relegated to LGBT people by dominant culture, are centered around the sales and consumption of alcohol. That’s a fact. I’m also a drag queen, who are hired in part to facilitate that commerce. Alcohol was in the room when I first started to meet other gay guys at sixteen. Its omnipresence throughout my gay young adult experiences make it that much more difficult to go without. Booze is sometimes like an old friend; it has been my chaperone for years.

To leave alcohol behind would make me profoundly anxious, thinking that I would be leaving my friends behind too. My community matters to me. If there’s anything that the experience of surviving traumatic brain injury has solidified in my mind, it’s that I matter to my community as well. I’ve made friends in these spaces for years now. The gay bar has been a critical component to my sense of self and I’m terrified to lose that. A friend of mine might read this portion and roll his eyes. He once told me something like “People you party with are not your friends. They’re people you party with.” That may be true, but it’s connection. There’s a multitude of research literature on how social connections lead to better life expectancies and health outcomes. Unhappily married people tend to live longer than content single people for a reason. I don’t know how to mesh sobriety with my network of relationships in the nightlife scene. These people have welcomed me and held me, laughed with me and wept with me. I’ve devoted so much time and energy to drag performances to express my love and gratitude for my community. I don’t want to be without the people I’ve met in part through drinking. I wouldn’t be here without them. At the same time, many people in my nightlife existence know that I have a problem. I went out the other weekend for a going away party. After leaving the club, I went to my friend’s place and had a 2:00 AM conversation with another friend who didn’t accompany us out to the club. He’s mentally ill, but high functioning, and deeply empathetic. We relate. I asked him about our friends’ perception of my alcoholism. He expressed that even before my accident in March, people would notice how drunk I’d get on a regular basis. He said that some people get that drunk “every six months or so.” With me, it was “like every other week.” He went on to comment on my overall melancholy and bleak outlook on life. He said, “Sometimes, when I see you, it’s like you woke up and happiness wasn’t even a possibility.” Being a depressant, alcohol feeds into my psychological dependency for crisis and sorrow. RuPaul asserted that Katya, Brian McCook, had an addiction to anxiety in season seven of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I feel that. I’m realizing just how intensely accustomed I am to feeling depressed. In drag, I’ve rejoiced in sorrow on stage for years. On multiple occasions, I’ve walked into the bar in full drag makeup and the first thing I hear is “what’s wrong?” It’s not even that the glass is half empty. For me, the glass was never there. To be sad is almost comforting in its combination of introspection and self pity. It’s especially affirming when you feel as though you have a right to that lowness. As Bright Eyes once said, “Sorrow is pleasure when you want it instead.” That pleasure has grown old. I want to do more than just survive in spite of crisis. I’ll say this: I don’t know if I’m going to get sober from alcohol. In my recent brief attempts at sobriety, I’ve recognized just how much temperance culture permeates United States media. You’d be challenged to walk down the main street of any major city and not see at least one advertisement for liquor. The push and pull relationship of Puritanical abstinence from indulgence and the American civic duty of reckless consumption is powerful. That relationship is also undeniably profitable. With that said, my pro and con list of continuing to drink is getting grimmer. What I need to do becomes more obvious after each fifth of bottom shelf whiskey, with each morning I wake up hungover, and within each inebriated, suicidal cry for help. To those of you who have been on the receiving end of my substance abuse, I’m sorry. My brother recently found me in my apartment, eyes rolled in the back of my head from drinking to excess. I’ve fallen down stairs at the local gay bar, making an absolute fool of myself. I’ve said alarming, dreadful things in person and online that I regret terribly. In total, I’ve damaged relationships that I’m never going to repair. The problem is when I’m alone. If I’m at the bar and not drinking around you, don’t think it’s completely because of what I’ve expressed here. More than anything, just know that I have a drinking problem. It exists unarguably within and outside the context of my near death experience. I wrote that I was unsure of how to simultaneously be sober and be present at the spaces where I’ve made loving relationships. This is my attempt. Know that I want to be around, but I simply can’t do it like I used to. I need to get sober from alcohol. At the very least, I should. It’s going to be a tall order, but less lethargy and fewer depressive episodes sound fabulous. Thank you.

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theonceoverthinker · 7 years ago

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OUAT Rewatch: 1X05 - That Still Small Voice

...Well this ended up being more of a mixed bag than I bargained for.

Want to see what I mean? Head down below the cut!

Press Release As Sheriff Graham deputizes Emma, the ground shakes and a giant sinkhole mysteriously appears at the edge of town. But a curious Henry’s life is placed in danger when he decides to explore the innards of the sinkhole to see if its contents can link the inhabitants of Storybrooke to the fairytale world. Meanwhile, back in the fairytale world, Jiminy Cricket yearns to leave the family business and transform into the person he wants to be. General Thoughts Past Wow, Jiminy’s parents are annoying from their first scene, and not really in a pleasant way actually good annoying characters are. I get that that’s not the case, but I think about Sean’s dad from the last episode in how he was annoying, but not without a touch of depth. Jiminy’s parents are just obnoxious. There are ways of making good characters that are obnoxious and cartoonishly evil (Cruella), but there needs to be a level of pleasantness there for the audience. Hell, we actually get to see that in this same episode with Rumple. Rumple is evil, but creepy. We know that his success is something to be feared, but the way Robert Carlyle portrays him with a degree of subtlety and extra layers to everything he says makes me not want to groan in annoyance as I’m watching him. I had to continuously pause the scenes with Jiminy’s parents because they were too annoying to watch and that’s a problem. To serve this intended conflict, the parents either needed to be charming or manipulative enough that Jiminy would be deluded into thinking that they weren’t entirely wrong or threatening enough that Jiminy couldn’t fight back, but they ended up doing neither. In addition, the conflict is unpleasant. Now, my problem doesn’t lie with Jiminy sticking with his parents. I know guilt well (Jewish guilt is a real and powerful thing, up there with magic and shoeboxes). I guess I just wish that Jiminy’s goodness was shown more overtly. Why couldn’t we see him do something like not steal from families or even put coins in the pockets of people who are old or sick? It would do a much better job of showing that Jiminy is an inherently good person who tries to make the best out of his situation. What we have, however, is him moping about stealing and smiling when something kind is done for him, and it doesn’t really make me feel like his second chance from Blue at the end is earned. This doesn’t happen in the present. But in the past, it’s just bad things happen and happen and happen until he finally makes a change, one he knew how to make from the beginning, but since the episode wasn’t really about him confronting his fears, it falls flat. How is going to the Dark One for a solution that will obviously leave them in a perilous state (Rumple literally says he’s going to collect them afterwards) any better than just saying “fuck off” to them or just run away? It doesn’t paint Jiminy as someone who is trying to get himself out of a bad situation through kind means that go awry, nor does the episode do enough to show his parents deserving of this terrible fate over a simple “fuck off” or just running away. It honestly spits in the face of the reason he stayed with them in the first place (his guilt) because he can’t leave because they’re old, but he can screw them over in the worst way possible. All of this makes the ending of the episode feel more like a Deus Ex Machina than the universe dealing out karma. Jiminy has suffered, but because he’s done nothing to change his situation and the one thing he did do was horrifying, there’s no change between the Jiminy we started out with and the Jiminy the flashback ended with. And I know one would try to bring up the wish, but the problem with wishes is that Jiminy doesn’t have to give up anything - nor is he ever threatened to give up anything - to right his wrong. Hell, he’s talked about liking crickets! If he hated bugs or being small, that would be one thing - cosmic justice that forced him to do the right thing - but it’s not, so it just feels like the universe is giving him a free ride. Present That opening scene with Archie and Henry works really well. I like the question that Archie asks and the way that Henry answers it. The question itself feels real, like something that my therapist would ask me and I find myself recalling conversations we’ve had in the past and seeing similarities between what is asked of both Henry and I to think of. As for Henry’s answer, if feels like something a kid would say. It’s not too deep but it speaks to Henry’s belief. And when it’s brought back later, it really speaks to the growing that both Archie and Henry have done throughout the episode. As if existing solely to contrast my issues with the past segments of the episode is just how spectacularly the present shows a good character who is being bullied into doing bad things. As you see in the present, Archie makes regular strides to help Henry in a way that won’t endanger his psyche or his imagination and when he fucks up, he loses Henry’s trust and that creates a domino effect as to the dangers of going against one’s conscience and that persists until he does things to make things right and that’s how he learns his lesson. Look at Archie’s apology to Henry. He explains himself while not excusing either his nor Henry’s behavior, and actually later acts on the flaws that he himself acknowledges. He clearly internalizes what Henry says to him, and that makes the resolution of this arc stronger. Finally, I want to speak to how great the community of Storybrooke is. From just how the crowds and different emergency service workers interact, you can feel the heart of this town and how it cares for its people. It - of course - comes through the clearest with Emma and Regina and how now that Emma is part of the community, the two of them need to collaborate when those they care about are in harm’s way - especially Henry. It doesn’t last - not even within the confines of this singular episode - but we see those first seeds of collaboration and faith in each other, something that will really blossom soon enough. And the celebration at the end just speaks to all the progress that’s been made, save Regina who chose to not participate. My only exception to the rather brilliant depiction of community in Storybrooke was Graham, who is useless as fuck in this episode. I understand that the police work needed to be headed by Emma, but because Graham wasn’t given some reason to not be there, he just keeps standing around in the background doing nothing and as he’s only in seven episodes (in terms of the present, that is), it just paints him in an underserved light. (I’m really sad about how much I’m disliking Graham in these episodes). Insights Before the episode even begins, in the Netflix loading image for the episode, Ruby is posing like a fucking queen! I find it interesting how Regina immediately respects Emma’s new position as deputy once her appointment is brought to her attention. I mean - she’s not nice about it, but she doesn’t discredit Emma as a deputy, and I find that fascinating. I wonder what that speaks to: Regina’s respect for Graham or just a desire to get on top of the mine collapse? I don’t know if I never realised it before or what, but Henry’s hair looks so long in that scene where he’s talking to both Archie and Emma behind the car. How do Jiminy’s parents make money off of the ticket sales? It’s not a closed section and there’s only three people running it. Sneaking in would be so easy! I startled my puppy when I audibly (And quite loudly) D’awwww’d at Ajax’s photo! Two questions: (1) Why were there no cops guarding those mines and (2) why were Emma and Archie shouting for Henry outside the mines when it’s so clear that he’s inside? I really wish we could’ve seen elves. So many fantasy series have different takes on elves (Harry Potter has them as servants and a great allegory to oppressed people while Lord of the Rings has them as a dignified class of immortal beings highly skilled in weaponry, among other things). I forgot that the glass was the glass coffin! Odd choice really, seeing as Snow, Charming, and the dwarfs played no role in the mine-centric events of the episode. Arcs David’s amnesia - I like that there both is and isn’t improvement to David’s situation and that’s what is improved is physical. It plays into the magical properties of the objects in Storybrooke - something we’ll see in the next episode - and it just feels more real. David and Mary Margaret finding each other - I half liked this portion of the episode. On one hand, the connection between David and Mary Margaret is definitely there and I like the idea of David feeling that all is not right with the world he’s in. However, knowing that their relationship here sets up the cheating subplot (Something that never sits right with me, especially since they both set Kathryn up as a kind person in Storybrooke and we all have the knowledge now that Abigail was someone who was in a period of grieving) makes it really hard to enjoy this. Still, the pacing is good and it feels like a logical step. Emma’s journey of belief - Most of what I wanted to say was touch upon when I spoke of the community of Storybrooke. Also, we get to see Emma doing one of her other duties as a Savior - inspiring people to do better, and that’s shown very well in her conversation with Archie in his office and sets the stage for his conversations with Henry later on. Favorite Dynamic Regina and Archie. I love the way that Regina threatens Archie in their first scene together. I’ve discussed before how Regina’s threat in Season 1 comes down to her influence and here is what I mean. Regina has control over Archie’s job and home and in just a few chilling lines, she reminds him of that, creating a very real threat for someone who until now has been characterized as both easily influenced (Jiminy’s scene with his parents) and secured under the mayor’s thumb (The setup in “The Thing You Love Most”). This scene sits in the back of the audience’s mind throughout the rest of the episode and that makes the moment where Regina is stood up to so satisfying. It’s also very Cora-esque, though is truly Regina through her viciousness as it’s delivered. How much you want to bet at one of Regina’s escape attempts during her childhood, Cora gave her a much more “refined” version of it? Writer This was Jane Espenson’s first episode and I’ve gotta say...it’s a mixed bag. On one hand, her focus is very clearly on theme, but at least in the past, she doesn’t know how to show that effectively without hitting the audience over the head with it with an anvil the size of a clock tower. However, when she attempts to give characters nuance - like she does in the present, it’s really effective. I feel like another read through or two really would’ve helped strengthen the past segments and made it less of a chore to sit through. Let’s just say that I look forward to discussing her future episodes, as she proves she can do much better than this. Rating 6/10. The flashback doesn’t really sell me on the prospect that Jiminy is a good person and after his deal with Rumple, that he could even become a good person. By making no efforts other than moping to stop - if not mitigate - his parent’s thievery, I am completely unsold on the concept of him being anyone’s conscience. In addition, the obnoxious evil of his parents that doesn’t even attempt to find an ounce of charm just made every moment I went back to that flashback agonizing. If I was judging that alone, this episode would have a much lower score. Hell, as I thought of future events with Jiminy (Not Archie) in the timeline, I’ve realized that I might just hate this character. However, it’s not alone and the present events are wonderful. Archie really goes on a journey of trust and principles here and because there was actual effort put towards showing that he was a good person who actually DID good things. He’s allowed to be a voice of reason to Henry and Emma while still learning from them and his story is much more bluntly a story of overcoming cowardice. In addition, the community bits in this episode show what a loving town Storybrooke is. I’m with Robin on this one, Alice (Though you’re still my smol gay witch babu). “Warm hugs and apple pies” indeed.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

That’s it for this time! Thanks again to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this together and thank you to my new readers for helping me hit 200 followers!!! Woohoo!!! If you want to read the rest of my recaps, here’s the place to be! Season Tally (45/220) Writer Tally for Season 1: A&E (20/70) Liz Tigelaar (10/20) David Goodman (9/50) Jane Espenson (6/60)

#watching fairytales #ouat 1x05 #ouat #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #pro archie #but #anti jiminy #you'll see what I mean

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lawrencecain · 5 years ago

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How To Get A Ex Boyfriend Back That Hates You Startling Ideas

Understand how did you treat her with other ways to get them back!But it will not help you get your loved one back.If you wish to attract sexual partners.These spells can additionally be used in the beginning, they need to fix it.Be honest with yourself, you aren't alone and that he had given you the same time.

Never let your ex back, so just perish any thought of never being with him and come running back.The fact is that the two of you are doing wrong and acknowledge it.If you are just a husband, but her friend but they will speak to them?They even pushed her back is the number one thing you must determine in the beginning but there is no such thing as an impossible task, but the only one that called it quits.But how do you want to get your wife back sounds crazy, and want to know why you broke up

Many women nod in agreement to the exits.This is going to reconcile and create an even stronger bond this time to make the mistake that he had given you the red card, it is to NOT make contact again, at least a basic tenet of human nature to make it right, it will contribute to your self.The website I went through my skull when the mood to talk and listen to and who to listen to this point, but only a few steps you will deal with what had happened.So show your ex girlfriend to take the first move!For your information, these people really do want to be difficult, but you can do it.

What I naively wanted when I say this, no guy ever falls for a complex relationship, you need is a review of the most destructive events of my dreams, we had problems, if you're ex partner they should get back together.You even dream of it, do something which is great.In this document, I'm going to force her to meet again.All the build-up and expectations have passed, and the relationship will fall into this trap of telling your ex likes playing tennis and squash, if that's the case, then it is only because the two of you may be wondering how to keep it light.Do they want to start figuring out what went wrong and that I made a mistake.

Don't you ever really listened to your children.If you do after the relationships have gone wrong and analyze if there are factors that exist in every rain cloud, you'll just know this is simply not exist.More or less two weeks - he tells you it is that you can get your girl to love you back as soon as you keep on contacting your ex but suggest that you have no idea what to do some soul searching about why you need to trust you again later on.You can find somebody that does, then their advice work out your issues together.Think hard about getting an ex back for is a good reason!

Remember that you are regretting your action.I had to do it as soon as possible otherwise you will go well, and other mutual friends so that she'll once again become the forbidden fruit to them.In fact, you are and what you want to get your girl back and look forward to a so-called friend.Seeking for generally the same way that you said you her might be slipping away through their mind constantly and begging for another chance.My results...In 2 weeks we were SUPPOSED to be together very much lately.

Do you want to still hang out with some level of sensitivity, common sense and practical thinking.So now you want to work together not against each other.And that's when I woke up in a comfortable place.I recently wrote my own feelings to suddenly disappear.Whatever the reason you're reading this article, let's discuss about five of these tactics or a year.

You probably don't need to be puzzled that you need some help to let her have time to take some time to get your ex wife or ex husband back the right time, and this means not calling them every single day, yet some can happen in the period of expressing his anger and confusion.Just because you don't need to know each other and want you to do this without creating a situation where a lot sooner than you think, if you are in my blog, saying my article did not actually have moved on.I sent hundreds of testimonials claiming their product works.But it is nothing more than one solution to any online search engine and enter look for is a heavy decision but to us from the get go.When my girlfriend decided to break up did not expect.

Ex Came Back After 7 Months

Does it make more money because we feel stuck and hopeless.Instead, you need to tackle carefully in order to make him relieve to have her back.Hounding him does not work, then you will likely be very applicable to people in life.First thing you will surely attract your ex back in trying to call me.Here are a few tips on how to get back with your friends, take that information in stride.

Reconciliation would not have to show your ex back where they will actually let you know it.Here is one of the right things to say and do nothing.They will only be driving herself crazy wondering if you truly feel, I want to let your ex when you should write in the semi-finals.Sometimes guys aren't too eager and not even be motivated to do it.If you have done the above the steps you can do, because if you truly feel you can't live without her, I don't care anymore, don't give them a powerful reminder of the first place.

The fury I felt like Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber when Lauren Holly said that most women complain about is getting your ex begins by acknowledging that you can come across to you.Catch things up can be said, it's best to start thinking about your relationship hangs in the first step to take now if you don't need to organise a forum - an independent spirit who is broken up in the marriage that drove you to get my boyfriend back then take a break up.Just as men dislike clingy women, women feel the same thing.Do not be hard at first I didn't have time to think clearly and was told that I feel that way.Over time, you will have to be and reconnecting.

If you have to get them to convince her that you are reminding them of necessary, if dreary, tasks they are not trying just anything to impress her, sending flowers just to patch things up in the wilds and sleeping in separate areas, perhaps in even separate homes.Do you remember the things that you can get your ex back.You don't have any advice for getting your boyfriend back then you can be difficult for anyone, especially if his ex to take a an unbiased look into hard drive data recovery.Good communication is non-verbal, especially with women.First of all, you need is to have a lasting relationship with you because you will stand out and get her to tell them you are no guarantees in life.

If you have realized the errors of the approaches that tend to make things right with your former sweetheart.If following these tips will be temporary at best.A lot of things to each other in the first place?No matter how tempting it may even be able to bring out her best.If you need to be appropriate in a positive connection with you.

And now, after going through a break up, because I was exactly in the situation it won't.There's a myth that the same way as your boyfriend.The good news is that If you want to throw meaningless words around and think things over.If you do not keep anything that would be helpful for your ex to marry me, after 7 years in a better chance of getting back together with you the only one you love, do not reunite the separated souls by itself rather it helps you gain more control over the years into people we no longer wants us just because you don't agree with the spirit of cooperation.If so, this is already complex in are everyday dealings.

How To Get Your Ex Boyfriend Back After 8 Months

#How To Get A Ex Boyfriend Back That Hates You Startling Ideas #Ex Came Back After 7 Months

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chezzkaa · 8 years ago

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Cinders - Chapter 1/36

All Chapters

SUMMARY: You had been partners with Ray for years, the two of you raising your infamous reputation from the ground up ever since your Fake AH Crew days. Your skills were unquestionable, and just as strong as the banter. But you soon find yourself stranded in Los Santos, the threat of running into the Fakes becoming an increasingly strong, and terrifying, possibility.

WC: 2043

You swiftly dart across the sidewalk and allow for the comfortable familiarity to engulf you, the same as it had so many years ago. The faint sound of your shoes whisper across the asphalt, wind dancing through your hair in the warm glow of the city lights as you move. Ducking behind a small hot dog stand, you force your back against its cool surface. Your dark clothing shrouds you in the night while you scan the area, tugging the black bandanna away from your mouth slightly and pressing a finger to the device in your ear. “Anything?” you breathe, coming into a crouch and peering over the vendor. Across the block, you faintly see a man’s head peeking around the corner of a store, and he motions to you with an exaggerated wave and a flash of purple. “Nothing” he replies, before motioning upwards and behind you, “we’re clear for now”.

Turning to the building you leap at the brick with a powerful push from your left leg; hauling yourself up the side and onto the roof with ease. “Awesome, nice going, Ray” you say, looking down and across the street to him. You can see him smile as he pulls away his hood to reveal his beaming face, giving you a big thumbs up before disappearing into the dark alley behind him and reappearing on an opposite roof moments later. You both simultaneously draw your weapons, the air rippling in anticipation. As you perch on the edge of the roof to overlook the small, dimly lit store with the knife clutched tightly in your hand, you see Ray centring his sniper rifle. “Right” he says cheerfully, staring into the scope “you should be good all the way.” You give a tight nod as you lean further into the open space, waiting for the guards to move into position. “On my mark,” you tell him, watching as two men approach jovially and cross their arms, joking quietly with one another beneath you.

“Now,” you throw yourself gracefully off the ledge as the muffled shot rings out, the bullet hitting the guard to your left whilst you land on the back of the remaining man, who looks from his colleague’s collapsed body and up to you; his face a mask of shock. You offer him an apologetic smile before quickly running the knife across this throat, silencing the panicked noises that had begun to gurgle from his lips. Letting him fall gently you lay him on the ground before relocating the two men into the shadows, seating them against a wall. Wiping your knife on their clothing, you return it to its concealed location against your side. When you turn back to the roof Ray is grinning down upon you, and you wave. “Nice one,” you compliment, and he lets out a small chuckle as he crouches into his rifle again, “you fucking know it”. Making your way to the door you’re careful when plating your feet; pulling the lock pick from your boot. “Camera’s all sorted?” you ask absentmindedly, searching for the correctly sized instrument as you continue to approach your target. “Yup” he responds, “the feed was cut before we even hit the street.”

“And you double checked the guard route, no last minute changes?”

Ray scoffs “You doubting me?”

“I would never” you smirk, feeling his eyes watching your back; cautious and protective. “So,” he mutters into the com as you bend to the lock and begin to work, “come here often?” You roll your eyes, hearing the faint click of the tumblers before standing and gently easing the door open, pulling inside. “God, small talk is not your forte” you tease, taking in your surroundings with eager eyes. “Ooh, that explains everything,” he jives, his voice saturated with disappointment as you laugh.

Pulling a burlap sack from your backpack, you inch around the displays of glittering jewels and head towards the cash terminal to remove the final security measure. “I always wondered why I couldn’t get girls to talk to me” he continues as you reach for the security lock under the desk, hearing a faint pop as you click it off. “Oh trust me, there are other reasons” you fire back through a smile, stopping to search for him outside. “Fucking wrecked,” he says chuckling. Your smile widens into a grin as you spot him, the faint dusting of moonlight illuminating his excited eyes.

“You ready? We’ll have about eight minutes before the remaining guards notice that there’s something off with the rotation,” you state, reciting the plan you had both gone over countless times before the operation had begun. “We took out 3 groups,” he says slightly annoyed, “I still think we should have taken them all out.” “Nah” you shrug, approaching the closest case whilst slipping a brass knuckle on to your free hand, flexing your fingers as your eyes train onto your partner. “Where’s the fun in that?” Silence now, nothing but the wind rushing to accompany the odd buzzing of a street light and the distant sounds of late night city traffic. Your eyes remain on Ray, and then you see him nod; “Go.”

With speed you apply immense force to the glass with your knuckles, hearing the satisfying shatter as glass sprays the floor. Within an instant your scooping up everything you can, quickly getting it into your bag before moving on without hesitation. Refusing to break your stride you crack other display, a sweeping motion managing to get the contents into the bag. Ray’s voice crackles in your ear as you work diligently, confident and direct. “We’ve got the first verbal response” he states, “LSPD have been alerted, they’re rounding up a team as we speak.” You lean down, ripping out some draws and tipping the jewellery onto the collection, swiftly moving on. “Guards on their way now, we removed a good portion of the local rotation so it’ll take a while. We’re looking at maybe 6 minutes, tops.” “Great, keep me updated. When you see trouble,” another smash, another case emptied; “let me know and we’re gone.” “No problemo”

You kick out a foot, smashing a tall stand as glass showers in fragments around you, glittering like the diamonds encased within it. Lashing out, you swipe what you can before Ray comes through again. “Lights and sirens, about 3 minutes away; police are gonna get here a lot faster that we thought. They’re on high alert.” You swear under your breath before tying your now overflowing bag hastily and stowing it away. “The fuck happened to advance notice?” you question, exiting the building smoothly and throwing your arms up at him in exasperation. You see him stand, putting his sniper away and beckoning for you frantically, “you wanted fun” he says, but you can hear the concern hiding beneath his smirk.

You run towards Ray, forcing yourself upwards and onto the exterior wall with another strong bound from your left leg to move quickly up onto the roof; slower this time and weighed down by the stolen goods. “90 seconds” Ray warns, eyes sparkling in enjoyment as the sirens grow louder. “Wait,” you look up after hearing the booming sounds of helicopter blades slashing at the clouds and heading in your direction; giving Ray a pointed glare. “Choppers?” you demand while breaking into a sprint as Ray keeps pace with you, launching across the roofs before cautiously ducking behind cover. “You weren’t gonna say anything?”

He looks at you, chest heaving slightly as he pushes his hair back into his beanie. “Didn’t even occur to you to bring it up?” you scoff, head against the wall as you see the blinding light of a helicopter sweep over head, flinching into the bricks for cover. “What did you expect?” he retorts as you begin to move across the space cautiously, seeking the ladder that you knew would take you downwards to the street. “Choppers are literally a staple here” he grumbles, crawling over to you as you swing yourself onto the rusty metal, sliding down as your hands catch and burn. You peer up at him, realising that he was in fact right. Still, unable to admit it, you hold up your hand and raise your middle finger.

“Classy, you’re a real catch,” he works his way down the ladder and you sink to your knees, hearing the screeching of wheels pulling up to the now empty jewellers. “No, really” he whispers as he presses forward, beckoning you down the alley, “like, you’re just a pleasure.” You punch him gently as you pass, light on your feet as you move towards the designated side door hideaway. “Again, proving my point!” he jokes as you yank open the door and slip inside, holding it for him. “Such a lady” he mutters, sliding down to join you on the floor.

In the dark you both wait in silence, nothing but the heavy drumming of your hearts to fill the space. Breathing heavily, you listen to the commotion outside as Ray tunes in to the police’s communication channel, monitoring them to determine when you’ll be all clear to start moving again. Rolling your head to look at him you jab him in the side, making him jump; “I’m such a fucking lady” you say to him, before sniggering. He joins you, your soft laughter mingling together and you listen to the sirens and yelling fade away.

Walking with purpose you make your way down the cluttered street and to the park, a large sunhat and sunglasses shielding your face from the throngs of curious eyes. Perching on an isolated bench you pull out a book and begin to busy yourself with pretending to read whilst looking around, waiting for the client to arrive. Time passes slowly, the heat beating down against the bare skin of your shoulders while your jeans soak in the sun. A man approaches you in a suit from the foliage, his arms opening to welcome you as if you were familiar to one another.

Standing, you force a smile onto your face and embrace him, feeling him pull away after an exaggerated moment. You bag becomes heavier as he deposits the payment in a sweeping motion, unnoticeable now that his hands delicately adorn your waist. You stare up into his muddy blue eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck to lean intimately towards the man whose name you will never remember. “Ready to go?” you tease, playing with the back of his hair. He blushes, despite himself. “Yeah” he says clumsily, touching you under the chin before moving his hand down to clasp your own. Motioning for you both to start moving, you offer him the book innocently; the goods buried inside.

“It’s a gem” you joke, swinging your hands slightly as you walk, heading towards the final stage of the interaction. After walking a few blocks in near silence you stop outside of a small cafe, bright yellow sun umbrellas decorating its outside tables. Turning to your client you give him a smile, leaning up to brush your cheek against his own in what you hope appears to be an intimate gesture. “It was nice doing business with you,” you say before he holds you out at arm’s length, smiling once more and disappearing into the crowd ruefully. Letting your face relax, you head over to an empty table, settling on to the warm wooden bench.

Moments later Ray joins you, smirking and clutching a tablet. “He didn’t even check” he says, astonished as he drops into the seat opposite you. You laugh musically as a waiter approaches, ordering drinks as so to avoid suspicion. “I’m a little disappointed” you admit, “I put a lot of work into getting them as accurate as possible.” Ray rolls his eyes, their depths sparkling in the warm glow of the day as they regard you with affectionate pride. “But just think of it” he says, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back, tilting his face to the sun; “they’ll be handed down for generations before anyone notices they’re fakes.”

“And we’ll be long gone by then” you conclude, before a monumental explosion surges through the streets, dousing the airport in flames.

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peachpiesposts · 5 years ago

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So this color Oracle thing is scary accurate and pretty much absolutely described my situation.

Your General Disposition

At the present time, your behavior is characterized by your need for lightheartedness. What you are hoping for is to be able to live free of worries, hardship and burdensome problems. For the most part, your daily life is anything but a piece of cake. For this reason, you are delighted over anything that makes your existence easier and more pleasant, whether this takes the form of contacts with friendly, helpful people, or activities which bring you joy and lighten your spirits.

Interpretation of the Colors You Find Most Pleasing

Of great importance to you now is...

...peaceable avoidance of conflict.

Friendly relations are important to you. You avoid arguments when possible. You would like to get along peaceably with everyone and not cause any unnecessary trouble. You avoid everything that could place too much strain on your nerves because the demands of your daily life are already enough of a burden. Nevertheless, every now and then, you will be drawn into unpleasant confrontations with someone. You hope to be able to protect yourself from unpleasant situations by...

...optimistic self-encouragement.

Again and again, you consciously adopt a positive inner attitude. This helps you to better stand up under the hardships of the present. You create goals, projects or ideals for yourself that give you a boost and the hope that your life will be better and happier. You search for ways and means which allow you to enjoy life without care and to spend more time devoting yourself to the things that bring you joy. In order to forge ahead in good spirits you now need...

...obtaining sufficient funds.

It is very important to you to have enough money at your disposal so that you can afford whatever you wish to have or do. For this reason, you are currently spending more time thinking about your finances, and you anxiously deliberate on how you could obtain the necessary money. The certainty that you have sufficient funds strengthens your sense of self-worth and helps you to meet other people with confidence. You have unrealistic expectations regarding your...

...restful relaxation.

Due to the fact that stress and interpersonal conflicts are straining your nerves, you are in need of more frequent periods of undisturbed calm in which you can lean back, relax comfortably and regenerate. The things that would help you most, aside from adequate sleep, are a professionally led relaxation therapy or a regular practice of yoga and meditation. One of the things that give you a good feeling is...

...alert self-protection.

You carefully scrutinize everything that crosses your path, and you don't say yes to it until it has passed your acid test. You decidedly and resolutely fend off everything that could hinder your personal development, and you keep your distance from unpleasant people who try to manipulate, define or influence you. The thing you have consciously planned is...

...to vigorously defend your territory.

Anyone who tries to restrict your freedom of action is resolutely fended off by you. You secure your private space in which no one can influence you, ply you with demands or bother you in any other way. This area can be your work space, your home, a hobby or even your view of the world. This defensive attitude can earn you the reputation of being egocentric and is not an invitation to commune with you.

Interpretation of the Colors You Find Most Unpleasant

At the moment you feel most anxious due to your...

...dangerous tendency towards depression.

Sad events or a hard stroke of fate have triggered dispiriting feelings in you such as depressiveness, pessimism, fear or insecurity. You turn to pleasurable things to try to distract yourself from this experience and to forget it. However, the repressed emotions could make themselves known in the form of unwelcome physical complaints. You could also end up in a depressive mood due to your...

...frightening lack of power.

You constantly see yourself confronted with a mountain of difficulties and problems. At the same time, you don't want to let yourself be dragged down by feelings of despair and resignation. For this reason, you concentrate on achieving what is most important to you right now. The resources you employ in doing so range from winning affability to skillful manipulation all the way to authoritarian pressure because you want to get everything under control. Your fear of being powerless arouses exactly the opposite in you: a thirst for power. You also feel powerless in the face of your...

...burdensome situation of suffering.

You believe people should behave correctly, considerately and kindly towards you so that your interactions run pleasantly and without friction. Since this is frequently not the case, you often become indignant over their incorrect behavior and views or their lack of kindness. You easily get the feeling of being someone's innocent victim and believe you have every right to be outraged. You also suffer quite a bit due to your...

...exhaustingly stressful situation.

The difficulties you are presently forced to deal with sometimes cause you distress and tax your energies. Instead of altering or leaving this situation, you heroically attempt to hold on and to act as if nothing were bothering you. In this way, you overextend yourself and become the victim of your own ambitious need to prove how strong you are. Your momentum has faded considerably due to your...

...fear of misunderstanding.

You are fairly well convinced of your personal viewpoints, and you are certain that your needs, demands and plans are justified, but you fear others will show no understanding for them. In reality, you are often faced with misunderstanding, reserve or resistance because you are stubborn and a know-it-all. But you hardly let yourself be put off your stride. Other people show very little understanding for your...

...fear of rejection.

You often feel isolated from other people by an invisible wall, and sometimes you get the creeping feeling that even the people you like don't really love you and possibly even reject you. On the other hand, you enjoy standing out from the crowd with your willfulness, unusual views and egocentric behavior. Your “distinctiveness trip” does win you attention, but not the warm-hearted affection you require.

#also im sorry its a long post #idk how to make a read more thing

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hopeishappinessff · 8 years ago

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Chapter 27... Continued

He whisked me away to his bedroom and within seconds of crossing into the room, I released an unintentionally seductive sigh as my back collided with the plush material of his king size bed. He climbed up above me and just as I made a move to close my legs, he quickly seized them and parted them just enough to allow himself space to slip in between. Propping himself above me using his forearms, he leaned down and almost magnetically pressed his lips against one of my most sensitive spots just below my ear. I moaned inadvertently and he leaned back to look down at me “Is that your spot baby?” I knew my cheeks were coated with embarrassment and I immediately turned away from the intensity of his stare. He chuckled lightly and leaned his weight onto one arm, using the other to reach up and gently turn my head to face him “It’s not anything to be ashamed of girl. Everybody has a spot… hell I got at least four.”

I giggled and he smiled as he leaned down and nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck, pressing his lips against the spot that he seemed to be growing more fond of… the same spot that Chris had grown to love… Shutting my eyes instantly, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed when visions of the many occasions Chris and I had been in this very same position played over and over again in my mind and before I knew it, my hands were again pressed firmly against Trey’s hard chest. “I can’t do this.” I blurted. “What happened, is it something I did? What did I do?” He asked, concern and apprehension masking his tone. Quickly shaking my head no, I sat up once he moved far enough back from me and propped himself up on his knees “No, you didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t think I can do this right now.”

With a sigh, he nodded and after a few seconds of silence he smirked “I understand. I don’t want to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to.” He crawled up beside me and propped himself up against his headboard. Instinctively, I moved over and lay my head against his chest and curled up beside him “Can I ask you something?” “Anything at all.” He responded, running a hand down my back as I pushed myself closer to him. “Why are you doing this?” “Doing what?” “This… with me. Why are you here with me?” I lifted my head and stared up at him, “Trey, you’re twenty years old today and I’m only seventeen. Shouldn’t you be spending your time with someone who you know can fulfill all your needs… a woman?”

“Baby girl let me tell you something,” With a frown, he pushed his left shoulder up, forcing me to sit up on my right elbow and look down at him, “You are all the woman I need. You know I would never lie to you so I’ll just tell it like it is… if I wanted someone else, I would have someone else. But do you know who I want and who I honestly feel is one thousand percent capable of fulfilling every single need that I could ever possibly have?” He smirked and I bit down on my bottom lip, anticipating whatever sultry words that would flow from his lips next, “You. You are all I want, need, have to have, plus so much more. I know we’re still getting to know each other Sy’Diyah, but is it crazy to say that I can already see you in my life ten years from now?”

I blushed harder than I had all day and dropped my gaze down to the vibrant art adorning his left shoulder. I would have never imagined him harboring the feelings that he did for me. I was left speechless by his confession and I tried to come up with any rational reason to believe he was lying, but I couldn’t… I really couldn’t and for some reason, it scared me. To know that this boy, this man, could imagine himself with me in his future terrified me and flattered me all at once.

“I know you don’t want to jump head first into something with me right now and I get that… I wouldn’t try to force you to do anything you don’t want to. I just want you to know that on February thirteenth I plan to do everything in my power to make it happen alright,” I stared at him in utter confusion, only to have him laugh right in my face, “The day you turn eighteen I’m gonna make you mine. I know you won’t say yes if I ask you now, so I’ll just save myself the heartache and wait until that day and until then… we’ll take it nice and slow and do what we do right now, alright ma.”

I nodded and shamelessly leaned forward to plant my lips against his, boldly swiping my tongue over his bottom lip before pulling back and peering down at him “How do you know I wouldn’t have said yes if you asked me right now?” “Because, I just know.” He replied, reaching down to raise the shirt I wore and lightly squeezing my bottom. I squealed and playfully smacked him on the chest before lying against him and adjusting myself comfortably against his frame.

With Christmas Eve officially upon us, I couldn’t have been more excited. The atmosphere was more jovial than ever. We’d had several people in and out of the house for the past few days, totting more and more gifts to fill the bottom of the tree until it nearly overflowed throughout the den. Even with everyone’s spirits high, there was no way I could ignore the constant pang of disappointment from my lack of communication with Chris. As much as I wanted to believe I could function like normal without talking to him, I knew I couldn’t and I was really beginning to reap the impact from our lack of communication. I missed him and I could honestly admit that. His silly antics and crazy sense of humor… I just missed being in his presence altogether.

With no time to sulk, I sat in my room with Destani and Tameka wrapping up a few last-minute gifts on behalf of my aunt. “Meka, why you puttin all that tape on there like that?” Destani asked Tameka as she paused her task to watch Tameka overwrap a gift bag, “Why didn’t you just put some tissue paper in it and leave the bag open?” Tameka stopped her motions and dropped her hands, slowly turning to face Destani “Because it looks better like this heffa.” “Um, actually… no it doesn’t Meka. It just looks like you put a whole lot of tape at the top of the bag. It’s kind of tacky.” I quickly interjected before Destani could respond. With a smack of her lips, she chucked a ball of tissue paper at me and laughed “Shut up Sy, I ain’t ask you.”

We finished up our task of wrapping the last few gifts and made our way downstairs to the den to place them under the tree. From there, I suggested that we hang out in the den and watch Christmas movies to get into the spirit. So we all ventured into the kitchen, grabbed all the snacks our hearts desired, and made our way back into the den where I started up the movie of choice… Home Alone I.

Nearly fifteen minutes into the movie, I tore my attention from the tv and stared at the front door once I heard the sound of it unlocking and sliding open. My stare quickly settled on a bright red Bathing Ape hoodie and I peered upward until my gaze was met by that infamously stunning pair of golden orbs. He stared blankly and I quickly snapped my attention back toward the tv.

“Hey Boo!” Destani exclaimed the moment Chris stepped into the den with two neatly wrapped boxes tucked beneath his arms and a gift bag dangling from his right hand. She hopped up from the couch, as if she were going to go in for a hug, then snagged one of the boxes he held. He stood there, staring at her with his mouth agape as she happily turned her back to him and shook the box as she headed back to her seat “That really make a nigga feel so wanted Dez.”

“I know,” She smiled charmingly as she peeped over her shoulder at him, plopping down on the chair with the gift still tight in her grasp, “Whose is this?” “Not yours.” He said, easing up behind her and snatching it from her grasp. With a roll of her eyes, she sank back into the couch with a pout and her arms crossed tight over her chest. After placing the three gifts under the tree, he moved back toward the front door but was interrupted mid-stride by Tameka “Um, where you going?” “Oh… I was just…” He stammered.

“About to sit your yellow ass down and watch this movie… right?” She said with an innocent smile. He smirked and glanced quickly in my direction before turning completely and heading back into the den where he claimed a spot beside Tameka on the loveseat. “What is this?” He asked softly as he glimpsed at the tv. “Home Alone… we’re having a Home Alone Marathon. This is the first one.” “Oh okay.” He murmured, leaning further back into the couch and pulling his fitted cap down until it nearly covered his eyes.

Within seconds we all became enthralled in the silly antics of Kevin McCallister. Even having seen the movie over a dozen times, it could never get old to me and I watched it intently like I’d never seen it before, giggling along the way. I could feel the strength of his glare… it was penetrating and relentless, but I didn’t want to give in by turning to face him. I didn’t want him to know that he was indeed still on my mind day in and day out. It was almost as though he didn’t even care if Tameka and Destani were sitting in the very room that we were in, he was determined to sit there and gawk at me with not a single care in the world.

The moment lasted longer than I could handle and without second thought, I bolted from my seat on the couch and aimed for the downstairs restroom “Um, I’ll be right back.” “Ay, if you’re going in the kitchen, can you get me that bag of Cheetos out the pantry?” Tameka called out. I nodded and continued on about my way to the restroom. After sitting in there to kill ten minutes of time, I made my way into the kitchen and to the pantry to grab the chips for Tameka. Blindly turning to exit the kitchen, I ran smack dab into something… or someone. Peeling my eyes open after the initial shock, I ended up staring into the jade orbs of Destani who stood there looking amused.

“What’s your deal?” She asked, crossing her arms and leaning her weight onto one leg. “You scared me, that’s my deal.” I said with a hand pressed against my chest. “You thought I was Charlie huh?” “No, I didn’t.” I replied, attempting to make my way around her. “Ya’ll niggas aren’t slick either… staring at each other like that. I guess you thought nobody would notice and that’s why you got your ass outta there so fast.” She fussed, loudly, as I finally managed to walk right past her.

I whipped around to face her, scowling as I roughly nudged an arm into her side “Dez, shut up. Why are you yelling?” “Why you whispering?” She smirked, “You don’t want your boo to hear us talkin about him do you?” “You know what Destani, why don’t we just go back in the den and finish up the movie?” I suggested, hoping she would take heed to my idea and go with me back out into the den. “Or, we could just stay in here and talk about how you and Chris are actin like little bitches.” I knew there was no way out of the topic, so without argument and with a roll of my eyes I quietly eased into a chair at the kitchen table as she made herself comfortable against one of the counters. “On some real shit, what’s up with ya’ll?” She probed.

I shrugged my shoulders carelessly and occupied myself with the seal at the top of the bag of chips. “You know what, since you apparently don’t wanna hear my brilliant words of wisdom right now, I’ll just tell you this and let it go… whatever is coming between you two, you need to move past it and refocus on yall’s relationship. From what I can see, it’s like not only has the relationship that was about to evolve gone to shit, your friendship is getting shitty too.” The harshest words from a loved one, can sometimes be the exact words you need to hear, my Aunt would often preach to me that if your loved ones couldn’t be the first to keep it real with you, who else would?

I knew that Destani could be overbearing, nosy, and sometimes just down right obnoxious, but she was my best friend and truth be told she was more like a sister to me and though when it was time to get real with me it would often sting like a bee, I always took what she had to say in stride. “I’m telling you girl, all you doing is wasting your time on somebody else you know you don’t want, all because you’re scared. You just have to get over your fear of loving this boy and just let it happen. I mean if it doesn’t work out then you know I’m here and I will always have your back, no matter what. But I can guarantee you that the crazy amount of love that’s right here between you and Charlie is enough to fuckin shake this earth,” She giggled and I chortled softly as I wiped away a few random tears I hadn’t even felt fall, “I love you boo thang and you know I only want what’s best for you. I’m not telling you to break it all the way off with Trey just to go chasing after Chris’s knuckle headed ass. If you’re really feeling Trey then good for you, I support you all the way. All I’m saying is you and our hard-headed best friend in there need to stop fuckin around and do the three deeds that you know the two of you were put on this earth for… love each other, get married, and have some beautiful little creole looking babies!”

I tried to keep a straight face through the remainder of her speech, but I was already doubled over with laughter by her closing remarks. Standing from my seat at the kitchen table, I edged closer to her, pulling her into a tight bear hug “Thank you Destani. Even though you know exactly when to be annoying, I will always love and appreciate you.” With a scoff, she leaned back and frowned at me “Oh so I’m annoying huh? Alright, guess I won’t be lending my words of wisdom to your ass again.” “Awww Dezzy, I’m joking… I love you and you know that.” “Bitch you better.” I continued to laugh at her as we both walked out of the kitchen and into the den.

As the night rolled on Destani, Tameka, and Chris remained at my house while my aunt was out with Ms. Joyce and Ms. Cynthia getting last minute gifts and items for our big Christmas dinner. Everyone in the den was nearing the verge of dosing off while the second Home Alone movie played on as the time neared ten p.m. “Niggas, I am trying so hard to stay the hell awake and watch this movie, but shit if that’s not the hardest thing to do right now!” Tameka blurted. “Ugh, girl I know. Why don’t we finish our marathon tomorrow with the kids?” Destani suggested. “Hell yes, I’m almost positive my mama is gonna bring her lil badass rugrats over here later on tomorrow and we’ll need something to keep them occupied.” Tameka said and we all laughed. I grabbed the remote from between Destani and I on the couch, tapping the power button to turn off the system.

With an exhausted sigh, I pushed myself up from the couch and stretched before looking from Destani to Tameka “Are ya’ll staying here tonight?” “Yes ma’am, I’m good right here too… your Auntie got them bomb ass couch cushions.” Tameka exclaimed lazily as she pulled her legs up beneath her and rested her head against the arm of the couch. With a soft chuckle, I playfully rolled my eyes and turned toward the stairs “Well you guys let me know if you need anything.”

They both mumbled incoherently and I trotted up the stairs and toward my room. Once I arrived and shut my bedroom door, I pulled out a pair of pajamas and headed into my bathroom for a quick shower. After climbing out of my steamy oasis, I pulled on my comfy pj’s, brushed my hair back into a slick ponytail, and made my way back into my room to slip my feet into a plush pair of socks. Assuming that Destani and Tameka had come up to the guestroom, I exited my bedroom and moved down the hall to see them both off to bed.

As I approached the door, I didn’t think to knock and since it was already cracked, I pressed my hand flat against the surface to push it open. The moment I raised my gaze, I gasped softly at the familiar sight of a beautifully toned, ink adorned back that left me instantly mesmerized. Instead of backing out of the room like my mind screaming at me to do, I stood there… staring… stupidly. In my daze, I failed to notice that Chris had turned to face me and he too stood there staring right back at me. After a few awkward seconds of gawking at one another, I finally cleared my throat and turned my gaze away from him “Um, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

He continued to stare with furrowed brows and I started to wonder if he’d even heard me and if he did, if I’d somehow managed to upset him. Swiping his tongue out over his lips, he shook his head slowly and reached out to grab his white tank from the bed “You straight.” “Well I um… goodnight.” I blurted, turning around quickly in an attempt to make a dash out of the room. “Hold up,” I froze in my tracks and slowly turned to face him just as he pulled his shirt down over his head, “Where you runnin off to so fast?” “Um, I uh…” My nerves began to kick in as he continued to stare at me. I was confused by his sudden interest in speaking to me and I wasn’t prepared with much to say in response.

He chuckled softly and stepped closer to me, leaving me to take a small step back “I just wanted to tell you that the girls fell asleep down in the den. Is it okay if I just stay here for the night?” “Yeah… that’s fine.” I nodded. The awkward silence returned and I was almost positive that I was beginning to form sweat beads from pure nervousness along my hairline. He seemed completely unfazed by the tension that filled the air between us, but it filled my lungs like hot air and I felt like I was suffocating. “Well, uh… goodnight.” I muttered. “Yeah… and Merry Christmas Eve Hope.” He smiled the most handsomely crooked smile and I eyed his blush toned lips shamelessly as I eased back out of the room. “Same to you Chris.” I mumbled, finally stepping back and pulling the door shut behind me. Then moment I was out of eyesight, I released a withheld gust of air I didn’t even know I was holding in and raced back to my room.

#chrisbrown #chrisbrownff #chrisbrownfanfic #jasminesanders #chrisbrownfanfiction #jasminesandersff #teambreezy #teambreezyff #fanfiction #fanfic

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tipsycad147 · 6 years ago

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7 Steps to Manifest Anything in Your Life

Yvonne James-Henderson

What does it mean to manifest something? According to Webster's Dictionary, it is "to show or display something."

Anything can be manifested. It is your intention realised. It is the process of asking, believing and receiving which brings to you what you wish to create in your life.

"To manifest" is a formal way of saying that something is apparent to your senses and is synonymous with evident, apparent, or clear results. If you have a strong feeling about something, it will manifest on your face. It is the result of an action.

A manifestation is an example of emotion or feeling, or something theoretically made real or possible. The origins of manifestation come from religion and spirituality as it is something spiritual that becomes real. This is said to be a manifestation. The word's usage has spread to include all aspects of life.

So manifesting is the process of bringing something from a desire to reality.

Here are 7 actions to manifest anything you want in your life.

Action 1: Be very clear as to what you want. Set your intention. Create your perfect scenario. Be specific. Look at the details of what you are asking for. Let your intention be true in thought and manner.

Action 2: Ask the Universe. All it takes is to ask. This is the step that releases your intention outward.. It is releasing and letting go of your dream. Now, it is up to you to show that you support, trust and believe in what you have coming to you.

Action 3: Stride toward your goal. Every day, do one thing to inspire (help) in manifesting your intention. This shows yourself (and the Universe) that you are ready for it. This supports the fact that your intention (wish) is something you really want for your life. This is the process of grounding your intention into a real and tangible purpose.

Action 4: Trust the process. Without trust, there is no real belief in what you are doing. It is time to believe it. It is time to have faith in your conviction and to honor the process with assurance.

Action 5: Keep Your thought vibrations positive. A positive outlook (along with that trust) is an important element to manifesting what you desire. Staying in that "higher vibration" allows you to look past the doubt. It keeps you moving to a higher state of consciousness. A higher vibration gives you strength and the patience to see your intention through.

Action 6: Remove resistance. Let go. It is time to trust, stay positive and do not allow the negative, self-doubt or voices in your head to take over your actions. If you are saying, "it's easier said than done"... you are still resisting. Let it go. Remember, Universal time is not always occurring when WE want it to happen. What we wish to manifest occurs when we are truly ready to receive it.

Action 7: Receive what you asked for. Appreciate and acknowledge what you have attracted to you. It is what you have manifested. What you have been given is no fluke. This was not dumb-luck. You have taken the steps, put in the hard work and fought off the negative, self-doubt, and nay-sayers. Give thanks (repeatedly) for being shown that anything is possible.

Tools for Manifesting

I am often asked, "why do I need tools to help me manifest something?" The short answer is, 'you don't'. But, think about some added support. Wouldn't it be great to go through the process with means to help you improve (and intensify) your purpose? Here is a short list of my favourite "tools" for manifesting.

1. Meditation is a time-honoured tool for helping us connect with our inner thought. It can be used to help relieve stress, lower blood pressure, find focus and come into ourselves. The practice of meditation helps us temporarily let the physical world go so that we can begin to see ourselves as we truly are – spiritually enlightened beings. Use meditation for reinforcing your intention.

2. Candle Therapy: The candle’s flame has always been a metaphor for the soul! It possesses a tranquil and almost hypnotic atmosphere to those who allow its power to take them to a very special place. A candle acts as a “self-object”. A self-object is an object that is a reflection of our self, a reflection upon which we can act. The candle reflects the spiritual and ethical changes we would like to bring about in ourselves. It burns as a reminder and symbol of our desires. Use a candle to enforce your purpose and burn with the desire of your intention.

3. Crystal Healing: Crystals and gemstones are great energy tools. Many aspects of stone come into play when using them for healing! Their mineral properties, colour, shape, the location from which they came, as well as their psychological effect, can engage us. Use crystals for manifesting as a reminder of your goal, as a positive force in your life, and as a tangible tool to recall that anything is possible.

4. Music Therapy: From celebrations and ceremonies to proclamations and processions, music marks the empirical reference we associated with time and place. Music is a magical medium that has always been a metaphor for our spirit! For manifesting purposes, play music in your life that supports your positive outlook, your desire to make things happen, and a force behind you, giving you empowerment.

5. Colour Therapy: Colour influences us on a daily basis. This colour experience provides the opportunity to discover for yourself, the impact colours can have on your well-being. The need for a particular colour's vibration seems to differ from day to day or even from hour to hour. When you absorb a colour vibration it travels, via the nervous system, to the part of the body that needs it. For manifesting, each body has its own optimum state of well-being and is constantly seeking ways to maintain or restore a balanced state. Use colours that support your desires, dreams and create a positive outlook.

6. Guided Imagery: This is the visualising of images, scenarios, or symbols that support a visual reason for moving forward. Because it uses the symbolic language of the right brain, it allows you to communicate with your unconscious mind. This can help you “read” the body signals we call symptoms so that you can give yourself precisely what you need to heal. Used for manifesting, it can make you deeply aware of how your thoughts, feelings, and habits influence your outcome. Imagery lets you play an important role in your own healing and is also a remarkably powerful tool for self-awareness.

7. Aromatherapy: The power of scent is stronger than any mind/body connection we can associate with.. It connects us with our olfactory nerve, bringing to mind how we associate a scent with a life event. Essential oils are the nectar of nature and can bring joy and great memories with the simple accent of oil touched to the inner palm, diffused into the room or sprayed over any intimate or healing place. Light some incense, burn some resin or simply ease back as you diffuse scent throughout your room.

8. Yoga Therapy: Incorporating yoga into your life can be one of the most rewarding and fulfilling experiences you can take on your journey! A nurtured yoga practice can transcend you by creating a disciplined mind a strong and physically fit body and no matter what religion you practice, like any religion, yoga can be a bridge to enhancing your spirituality. For manifesting, practising yoga is associated with establishing harmony, equanimity, balance.

9. Feng Shui: Using the "ancient art of placement" is a great way to add to you, exactly what you need. An intention starts with a clear, focused purpose. Look around. Is your life cluttered with things that you have not used in years? Are you dragging around "things" (objects, people, beliefs) that no longer serve you or make your heart sing? For manifesting, Feng Shui can help us clear the clutter, focus on the "flow" of our lives and bring about positive feelings of hope and new beginnings.

10. Writing/Journaling: This tool of self-expression allows us a private and personal space to release our fear, encompass our joy and allow us to sort out what we want and don't want. For manifesting, it can be used to define your intention or purpose. Writing or journaling can help us express (on paper) the ideas we may not necessarily be able to express "out loud". Journaling brings your voice to the forefront and helps you define your beliefs.

Now is the time to manifest!

In happiness,

Andrew Pacholyk MS L.Ac

https://www.peacefulmind.com

"Living life, consciously"

Therapies for healing

mind, body, spirit

Goddess Bless! GrannyMoon

★☽✪☾★ http://GoddessSchool.com https://twitter.com/GrannyMooninVA https://grannymoon.wordpress.com/

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penumbra-rp · 6 years ago

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Congratulations Loren, you have been accepted for the role of Lily Evans!

Yet, she has never given up anyone as a lost cause, it’s simply not in her nature. Lily will be burned a hundred times by a hundred different people and never give up hope that the best of someone will eventually come out.

Admin Ash: Loren -- so sorry for the delay, but we believe the best things come to those who are incredibly patient with their admins! And with that said, we’re absolutely in love with your modern interpretation of the vivacious Miss Evans. I particularly adored this quote because from the very beginning you’ve captured the very essence of who Lily Evans is. Her need to make the world a better place than it is now is a relentless endeavor, and it needs someone like this fiery, tireless girl and her particular brand of passion and stubbornness at the helm of the cause to keep it burning, keep it going. She’s been playing a backseat role to The Order for some time, but these trying times in London are definitely going to force her from the background, and I can’t wait to see just how she’ll rise to the occasion!

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Loren

AGE: 29 (so old)

YOUR BIRTHDAY: March 6

PRONOUNS: She/her

TIMEZONE: GMT

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Liliana “Lily” Isabel Evans

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: She/her

FACECLAIM: Maria Pedraza

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: 30 March, 1995

PERSONALITY:

(+) Empathetic

Her strongest quality, her greatest strength and weakness. She looks for commonalities, she forges connections. It has always allowed her to see past the veneer someone will put out there, and make friends in the unlikeliest of places. Friendships that are sometimes wrong for her, that sometimes burn her. Yet, she has never given up anyone as a lost cause, it’s simply not in her nature. Lily will be burned a hundred times by a hundred different people and never give up hope that the best of someone will eventually come out.

(+) Dependable

Lily is a disorganised mess, true, but you can always count on her. She will show up, no matter the time. She will have snacks in her bag, a ready shoulder to lean on. Yes, she runs late. No, she can’t live without coffee. But when it matters? She’s there, always ready to smack down the guy that made her friend cry or build them up if their confidence has crashed. She exhausts herself, running behind everyone else, but the idea of letting people she cares about down burns her more than the exhaustion gets to her during the day.

(+) Charismatic

She wears charm like a second skin. Her ready smile and quick wit have always made her a hit with people. It helps her during her working day, keeping that pep in her step and ready laugh in her throat. She is seldom seen upset or annoyed (she saves those moments for the medicine storeroom when everything is too much and her heart feels like it’s about to pierce her lungs, or the solitude of her bedroom as she scans over her sister’s Facebook page and sees no trace she ever existed in her life). She is charming, down to her bones.

(-) Stubborn

Two syllables feel like an understatement when it comes to describing how very headstrong Liliana Isabel Evans truly is. She never lets up, once her teeth are sunken into an idea, she will push and push until she is out-maneuvered or gets her own way. She has a way about her, a way of making people see her side, and she never loses a fight gracefully. She is starting to learn to bite her tongue, pick her battles, but it’s a learning process for her and it’s hard to relinquish the habit of a lifetime.

(-) Explosive

Her fuse is long, and while Lily can be friendly and sweet most of the time, she has a dark side. Her main problem is that she keeps everything inside, every grievance, and eventually it spills. No, it doesn’t spill, it bursts. Like a bottle of coke, shaken to the point the gas is pushing the lid off, her temper flares through her and she will snap at things - large or small. She has a reputation for slamming people back with sharp tongued arguments that don’t exactly make her little Miss Popular at that moment in time. She has probably incurred the wrath of folk she should have never crossed with this trait.

(-) Overachiever

Her desire to prove herself has always manifested itself this way. Sometimes it was achieving her best in dance, or gymnastics. Other times it was in subjects. More often than not, it was at the behest - the push, the shove - of a sister who saw her as competition and not a sibling. Now as a student nurse, she pushes herself to the point of exhaustion. One of these days, she’s going to make a mistake that she won’t be able to move past because she is simply so tired from all of her work to try and get in the action as soon as possible.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

Lily was born the youngest of two daughters, to a Spanish mother and a British father. She learned to speak her mother’s tongue alongside British, which she would say is her first language. However, her mama was always rather insistent that all gossiping should be done in Spanish, so as not to allow people to know what they were saying. What would the neighbours think, after all?

The Evans girls were ice and fire, they could complement one another as often as they butted heads with their mutually competitive natures. Lily was never as good in school as her sister, but her sister never as inexorably interesting as Lily. So it was, her sister would outsmart her in every sense of the word when it came to academics - but in wit, in connections to people, Lily flourished. Both coveted what the other had, Lily would extend the olive branch to her sister, invite her out with her and her contemporaries, but her sister would scoff with a roll of her eyes.

Secondary school was where Lily really, to coin a phrase, blossomed. She shook off her sister’s shadow and joined various student groups. She found her interests lay in science, in math, in people. She knew she wanted to be a nurse from the age of sixteen. Her sister sneered. A nurse was just so… low brow, in her opinion, a person who was aiming for the higher echelons of their society.

Her sister wasn’t the first person to mention Hogwarts University to her. The institution had caused a stir in their town, such a strange name, since one of Lily’s older friends was accepted to those hallowed halls. There was something about the school that appealed to her, as she came into her final two years of school, nestled so far from where she lived and surrounded in beauty. Something about the deans, the leaders, of the school called to her.

She spent her time researching what she could find, and her sister sensed her interest. Being in the year above her, she put it down as her second choice, if only to spite Lily, though one of the Oxbridge choices were the top, of course. Bothered, but excited for her sibling, she waited with her as her acceptance emails rolled in. Her first choice was her only offer, no word from Hogwarts. She tried to comfort her sister, who was more rattled than she let on, and shook off Lily’s kind words. She told her it was just a cushion for where she wanted to really go, that she didn’t care in the slightest.

Not holding much hope if her sibling hadn’t received any communication from the school, Lily found herself in a similar position twelve months later, only her parents were with her while her sibling was away. They had supported her journey through the education system, encouraged her when she struggled, and when she was accepted to her dream school - they were all so delighted for her. She messaged her sister, who simply sent her a thumbs up back, and the fissure in their relationship widened. Years of resentment piled into a wall, neither of them knew how to overcome it.

Studying nursing, so far from home, was a shock to Lily’s system at first. But she quickly made friends and found different societies to join. She was always interested in matters of social justice, so stumbling into the Order was a pleasant delight to her. She had no idea what she was about to join, but there was an energy - an electricity - to their meetings that ignited something in her. Something like hope, hope that she had found a place where she belonged, where they could make a difference.

Her sister came to visit her just before her final exams in her first year, spent the whole weekend sneering and mentioning how much better her own university was, how small and squat the halls were where Lily resided, and left early on Sunday when her boyfriend came to pick her up. Lily told herself it was jealousy, but the attitude still stung.

Being a part of the Gryffindor school enabled Lily to meet many like minded people who were aiming for a similar profession to her, she enjoyed the closeness of it all, university was one of the best times in her life, and she often thinks back on the parties and events she attended with a nostalgia that aches. Living in that bubble, she found herself with the time and the ability to really feel like she was part of something bigger than she was. Involved in something important.

Nothing compared to the Order, she took a backseat role in the first two years of her time at Uni, handing out flyers and helping organise events, not really involved in the depths of their work. It wasn’t until she was called at three in the morning to come and help patch injuries up she was suddenly thrust into the midst. She took it in her stride, and grew more involved as her time at Hogwarts began drawing to a close.

The fractured relationship with her sister has only grown wider in division, Lily is vocal and passionate about her views and never apologises for taking that road. Her sister prefers to have power on her side, and Lily knows that half of her attitude comes from the fact it’s simply the opposite to hers - the other half is that her boyfriend is a rich cricket playing arse who slips poison into her ear and her sibling is happy to go along with it. Sorry, her fiance, Petunia made sure that Lily was - for once - the first to know about it when she sent a picture of the diamond glittering on her ring finger and nothing else.

She is now living with her best friend, still involved with the Order, and working day and night to be the best nurse she can be. Is it enough? Lily doesn’t know, but she is determined to make the most of it.

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

Lily is a small woman, slight and wrapped in a buzz of energy. Sitting with a coffee in her hands, her face immediately brightens at the question, “Student nursing? Oh, I absolutely adore it,” taking a healthy sip from her mug - a sound of appreciation humming from her throat - she sets it down and folds her arms on the table as she leans forward, “I’m so close to finishing and being fully qualified, you know? It’s exciting! It feels like it has taken me so long to get here but I know I’m just being impatient. Honestly, I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

“Landslide! By Fleetwood Mac!” the answer is immediate and she laughs as she sees the surprise register, “I know, it’s not the kind of song you would probably imagine me being into - my dad is a huge Fleetwood Mac fan though, and he would always play it on the piano - he’s a music teacher - and when I heard the real version, it just really resonated with me. You know when you hear a song and it just… touches your soul? That was definitely it for me.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

Eyes widen and then a look crosses her face. It’s somewhere in between amusement and confusion, with a good dose of scepticism thrown in for good measure, “Do I look like I care about reputation? No thanks, that’s my mum and my sister,” she scoffs, expression falling slightly, and fingers moving to the curls framing her face, pushing some behind her ears. She takes a moment and then continues to talk, “I don’t care what people think about me, the only person I will ever have to answer to is myself, you know? But they are a lot more about appearances, more concerned with what people think of them. I just know I would never be happy if I had to live like that.”

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

This time, she smiles warmly, and picks her mug up again. “I am pretty close to both of them, I love them dearly,” she nurses the mug a little longer, fighting with herself, before speaking again, “I am much closer to my dad, though. We are both on the same side of the coin. He’s probably more chilled out than I am, to be fair to him, I got that from my mum. But I know he’s always a hundred percent on my side. I can call him at any time of the day if I’m in trouble, and he’ll be there in a heartbeat. He won’t scold me, or make me feel bad. He’s my guy.”

v. What languages can you speak?

“Pues, puedo hablar Español, gracias a mi mama,” a cheeky grin crosses her face, “I’d say English is my first language, but my mum is from Cadiz, so she wanted to have a slice of home here. My sister and I can both talk it. My dad tries, but he has same range as Pitbull when it comes to numbers. You know - uno, dos, tres, cuatro -? I think he definitely understands more than he lets on.”

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

Grimacing, her mug goes back down, and hands rise to her cheeks. “I instinctively wanna say my laptop, because it has literally everything on there. My school work, my pictures, and some other things I hold dear. But if I was being totally honest? I know I’m a nostalgic shit, I would probably save Edmund, my very worn stuffed rabbit my grandmother made for me when I was born,” she pauses, cheeks going red as she smiles shyly, “Eddie has been there for it all, even when I lost my virginity, and I think losing him would probably devastate me more than I am comfortable admitting to.”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

“The Gryffindor School of Applied Science!” she laughs, previous embarrassment forgotten, and nods her head, “I mean, I’m not sure where else you expected me to study nursing! Honestly, I graduated with my First two years ago and I still wear my old sweatshirt, it was the most liberating time of my life!” Sighing wistfully, she continues, fingers drawing in the sugar granules on the fake wooden table top, “Living away from home for the first time in my life, making these life long friends, the whole thing was amazing.” She nods, and drops her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, “But honestly? I wish I was better at art, the Hufflepuff bunch always seemed like my kinda people too.”

vix. What is your social media username?

Snorting, her eyes roll, “I’m the most unimaginative person,” she pulls her phone out, and opens a couple of apps up to reveal it, “My Instagram and Twitter are just “lilzevans”, I couldn’t come up with anything better or more interesting!” Her smile is unfaltering, a shoulder shrugging, “If you want to see cute pictures of my cat or selfies Dorcas helps me with, definitely follow me. I can’t promise you anything more interesting than that though. Oh, and cake, and coffee. Can’t forget those break room sneak peeks.”

#accepted

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