#but had no means of telling mar that.. so destruction was the next best option

[dancedelion]

Scattered

Genre: angst with a happy ending Word Count: 4063 Summary: Jaskier gets kidnapped, which is a little bit of an inconvenience. Then he realizes Geralt won't come for him this time - and well. That hurts a little more. ao3: Scattered Jaskier is a little disoriented, when he wakes up. When he wants to run a hand across his face, he can't. He's a little disoriented and vastly uncomfortable. He can't place the banging in his head – hangover? Bar brawl? Did someone hit him over the head with a mallet? He tries to remember what happened... He sang in a tavern, the usual. He left when they kept asking for a song about the White Wolf, the usual. After that, things get a little fuzzy.

Jaskier cracks his eyes open, and ah. He's a little disoriented, vastly uncomfortable, and tied to chair in a musty prison cell and possibly torture dungeon. That sums the situation up sufficiently, he surmises. So, that's... not quite the usual.

There's a gruff man standing in front of him behind the iron bars of his cell, possibly a noble. Off the top of his head, Jaskier can think of fourteen reasons this noble could have to be angry with him. “Ah,” Jaskier says, “kind sir, is this your living room? It's... homely. Ever think about redecorating?” The man grunts. Right. Jaskier can work with that. He has years of practise. “Now, I don't mean to sound rude, but I don't remember tying myself to this chair and frankly, I don't remember wanting to ever tie myself to a chair and if I'm honest, it doesn't agree with me. But if you could just undo these binds and let me walk away, I'll be willing to accept that the ale yesterday brought out hidden depths to my personality and never speak to a soul of it.”

The stranger uncrosses his arms and fixes his gaze on Jaskier. “I don't think so, bard,” he says with a low voice. Jaskier struggles a bit against the ropes, but they're wound too tightly around his wrists. There's no way he'll come free.

“Not that I don't feel honoured that you've gone through all the trouble of kidnapping me,” Jaskier says and flashes a smile, “I've got to say, that's a first, even for me. I'm just a humble bard. What could you possibly want from me?” There is no way Jaskier will free himself of these binds, but the man hasn't put a gag on him yet. And Jaskier has talked himself out of worse before. Well. Not necessarily worse. It had never been quite as bad as this before. I mean, kidnapping? Really?

He feels terribly tired, suddenly. Tired at the pain. Tired at the audacity. And where the fuck is his lute?

“There's something I want,” the man drawls, “and I've heard that you've gotten awfully chummy with it in recent years.”

“You – you're not talking about...” The name hurts to say, “Geralt. Are you?”

“The Butcher of Blaviken. The witcher. My son's killer. Ring any bells?” “Ah,” Jaskier says. It's not enough that Geralt is haunting him in every tavern he sings in and every night in his mind when he's trying to sleep. Bloody bastard. “And why, pray tell, do you think he cares about me?”

Boy, has he got the wrong idea, Jaskier thinks bitterly. “I've heard the songs, the ballads,” the stranger says and walks a little closer. “The bard is the witcher's trusty companion.” Jaskier closes his eyes. The roaring in his head, the binds, it all hurts immeasurably, but none of it hurts as bad as this. He's Geralt's curse. His nuisance at best. Companion not so much. Jaskier allows himself one quiet but deep sigh before he wrenches his eyes open again.

“Ah, I'm afraid those songs are... not an entirely accurate representation of reality,” he says. Should have known that would come back to bite him one day. “Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier says and he savours the name in his mouth like the bite of something he loves to eat but is horribly allergic to. “There's nothing wrong with embellishing the truth a little. I met him. Once. Years ago. That's it. He probably won't even remember me.” Maybe Geralt will pretend not to remember, should they ever meet again. Like they truly only met once and never saw each other again. Geralt of Rivia doesn't apologize. And he doesn't do feelings. Not where Jaskier is concerned, anyway. And Jaskier's not as young and starry-eyed and stupid as he once was. This time, he'll... take the hint. (Maybe he is still stupid, because he thinks he would take the marring to his soul if he could just see Geralt one more time, sitting there in the corner of the tavern. Just lonely in that tragic self-destructive way of his. And Jaskier would be content just to watch him, because he knows by know that nothing he does will be able to fix Geralt's loneliness.)

“I'm not stupid, bard,” the man says. “You have been seen together. He will come to your rescue. And he will get what's coming for him. Witchers bleed, and what bleeds can die.”

“Clever, clever indeed...” Jaskier answers casually, “I don't mean to be a tough critic, but I couldn't help but notice one or two holes in your plan.” “And what would that be?” “Geralt won't even know I'm gone. I haven't seen him in months. And I'm not lying this time. You might as well just let me go.” “No. When I saw you in the tavern, I knew it was destiny. The witcher will get what he deserves.” “Ah, so he's hurt you. Like you're so special. He's hurt me too. He's on his glorious path of destiny and we're the collateral. Unfortunate, truly,” Jaskier says flippantly, “but that doesn't give you any right to take your revenge.” Jaskier knows Geralt didn't mean to hurt him. Geralt still doesn't know what he needs, he just... figured out Jaskier isn't it. Which is fine, really. It could have been communicated in a less scathing way, but when it comes down to it, it's not something Geralt can really change. And Jaskier is sure that however this man's son died, Geralt didn't mean for it to happen.

“It gives me every right,” the stranger says forcefully. “He will come looking for you and find his demise.”

“What if we all just sat down together, had some cake and talked about our feelings?” Jaskier suggests vaguely. He can tell by now that he won't be able to sway the man.

“You're useless,” the man says and Jaskier can barely keep himself from flinching. “You can't tell me anything about the witcher, can you? You're a pointless creature. No one will miss a maggot like you.”

Jaskier attempts to protest, but the man cuts him off. “I will return only to present you the witcher's head... or to put you out of your misery.”

He stalks off. Jaskier is alone. (The usual.)

Jaskier stares after him for a moment. He pushes at the restraints again, but they won't budge. It's dark in this cell, the only light source a torch in the hall outside his prison. There's no window. No one would hear him scream. In short, he is out of options.

That's when it really settles in. He's not just bloviating – Geralt is not going to save him this time. Jaskier is going to die alone in this creepy dungeon.

“As the great witcher Geralt of Rivia would put it,” Jaskier says quietly, “fuck.”

He ranks his songs from best to worst. Ponders which ones are going to outlive him. Jaskier has written a lot of songs in his life time. He puts “Toss a coin to your witcher” all the way to the bottom of the list.

He tries to find a shape in the shadows cast on the wall, but they're just dark and resemble nothing.

Fuck. No one is going to miss him. Hey, isn't that a plus? No one has to suffer for his death. (No one is going to pause in the middle of the day to remember him.) No one has to cry for him. (No one is going to put flowers on his grave.)

Geralt is going to hear about his death from some barmaid. It'll be an “Oh haven't you heard?” story. And Geralt will order drink after drink that night and vow not to feel anything ever again in the morning.

Is that how much you'll miss me? Will you give me that?

And then, Jaskier closes his eyes. He embellishes the truth a little. And he imagines Geralt saving him or, in the very least, being caged in here with him.

He imagines Geralt saying, “I'm sorry.” Then, “I love you.” But there's embellishing the truth and then there's outright lying, so Jaskier makes the version of Geralt in his mind add, “but not in the way you want me to.”

He imagines Geralt sitting right next to him, and he's not saying anything, because he's Geralt. It puts Jaskier at peace a little bit.

__________

Hours later, Jaskier's throat is dry. He doesn't know how long it is since he's last eaten. He wonders what will get him first – the thirst, the hunger, the stranger coming back to finish him off.

Jaskier thinks of calloused hands against his cheeks. Of white strands of hair under his fingers.

Jaskier wonders how many times he's knocked on Geralt's door and asked to be let in. He'd pushed so man times before Geralt pushed back – really pushed.

He thinks of every shade of yellow in Geralt's eyes.

That's the life Jaskier nearly built – the life he's about to lose, it was nearly -

Someone was nearly about to miss him, about to cry on his grave, about to tell stories about him to strangers.

You were nearly my family.

Jaskier starts to compose a song, but stops when he realizes no one but him will ever hear it.

__________

Later still, Jaskier thinks about twenty-two heroics deaths he could have died if he had still been with Geralt. Twenty-two heroic deaths he wouldn't have died because Geralt wouldn't have let him.

This wouldn't have happened if he'd never written a single song about Geralt, if he'd never met him. (None of the pain either.) But Jaskier has no regrets.

He's just tired. Of hurting. Of wanting. Of losing. Jaskier is about to fall asleep again when he hears the commotion. He hears a scream or two, human. Then the blood-curdling scream of a monster. Slices and crashes. It goes on for minutes. Maybe more. Jaskier's not too concerned about what's happening. It can't get much worse than this.

Then, it does.

Into the hallway steps – Geralt of Rivia. Covered in bruises and blood. Jaskier's breath catches. Jaskier watches as Geralt kicks in the door that flings open immediately.

“Right,” Jaskier says, “never had a hallucination as vivid as this before. But then, I don't know how long I've been here. Do you perhaps? You might if I've subconsciously kept track of it.”

“I'm not from your subconcious,” Geralt says, then looks down on himself and his blood-covered clothes thoughtfully. “Unless your subconscious is a truly terrifying place.”

He steps closer and Jaskier drinks in the sight, real or not.

“On the off chance you're real – you know this is a trap, right?”

“Killed the trap,” Geralt says and steps around Jaskier. Jaskier can't see what he's doing, but then there's fingers on his wrists, trying to loosen the bounds.

“Of course you did. Geez, Geralt. I thought it was just that one guy.”

When his wrists come free, Geralt walks in front of him again, and Jaskier can only stare wide-eyed, even though he has some freedom of movement now.

“He had back-up,” Geralt shrugs. Like this is nothing. Like he didn't just save Jaskier again.

“Nope, I'm still not buying it,” Jaskier says, even though he can slip free of his binds and stand up.  He starts walking towards the exit and Geralt follows him. “How did you find me?” “I...” He can see Geralt struggle with himself next to him. They're walking, but Jaskier doesn't stop looking. “I had a tracking spell placed on you. Just in case something... happened.” “Wha- excuse me? I can take care of myself fine, thank you very much,” Jaskier says. “I fact, I had it all under control. You needn't have bothered.”

“I see,” Geralt says darkly, “you were planning to break free from these ropes with brute strength.”

It's strange how familiar this is. Geralt's dry sarcasm, the blood in his hair. His carefully watchful gaze. Jaskier wonders if he's been lonelier, if only just a bit.

“It was more of an elaborate escape plan,” Jaskier says quietly, even though his plan consisted of waiting and hoping for dumb luck. Maybe this is his dumb luck. They're silent on their way out – he was in the basement of a noble's castle. Jaskier wants nothing but to get away from this place. Roach is outside and Jaskier knows Geralt won't let him touch her, but he does smile at her and say, hello.

And Jaskier doesn't know where to go, because so far his plan was not dying and since that seems to be working out, he rearranges his priorities. Which is looking at Geralt. For as long as Geralt will let him, which won't be too long. Jaskier is Geralt's shadow. He will follow him anywhere. Through fire, onto a battlefield. He will walk across lava, into the heart of a tornado. He will walk all the way up a mountain into a dragon's den. He will walk into the harrowing depths of a witcher's mind and come out bruised and bleeding – but alive.

They start walking and Geralt doesn't seem to think anyone is following them, so Jaskier doesn't ask.

“You should be more careful,” Geralt says, shooting him a glance. Jaskier finds his words again.

“Oh, I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you. What did I interrupt? Your designated daily hour of brooding?” Geralt looks away again. “You shouldn't get hurt,” he says after a moment. His jaw is clenched and Jaskier knows, suddenly.

“I see,” he says. “I thought witchers weren't supposed to be afraid.”

__________ Geralt can't stop looking at Jaskier. To make sure he's still in one piece. Safe. Safe enough, anyway.

“And you're supposed to be a bard, not a philosopher.” Not a mind-reader, Geralt thinks. Jaskier rolls his eyes. It's good to have him here. In the space next to him. Where he belongs.

“What do you want, Geralt?” Jaskier asks, fed up with him. Which is fair. Unforgiving. Which is fair too. “Peace and quiet? Me off your hands?” And those damned feelings spill over in the worst way, again.

“I want you to stop haunting me,” Geralt spits. Because he can't get Jaskier's face off his mind. Because he's everywhere – and worse, he's nowhere. Jaskier is his shadow, following him everywhere – he is the guilt in his heart, the longing in his heart, every secret wish Geralt harboured for years, of a different life. He is with him in every tavern, on every road. After every monster he kills, Geralt turns around to see if Jaskier is safe, but Jaskier is not there -

Jaskier looks roughed-up, tired, weary – and it's all Geralt's fault.

“I didn't die!” Jaskier spits back and stops walking to turn to Geralt fully. “You have to be a ghost to haunt someone! And like it or not, I'm still kicking.”

Geralt likes it. A lot. But he can't say so – he's not sure if he'd make it worse. He left, and Jaskier still got hurt because of him. He doesn't know what to do now. Nothing seems to be right. Stay and protect him or leave to keep him out of harm's way? Nothing works. Nothing eases the pain in his chest.

“The only one haunting you but yourself, Geralt,” Jaskier says and they're both looking at each other now. Is it too late? Jaskier was lucky to walk away from him with his life. But he still walked away with a bright red target on his back and scars littering his unblemished skin.

When Geralt was outside that tavern, years ago, hearing a bard's singing voice, should he have turned around and walked away then? Before Jaskier could even see him? Nothing else could have deterred him. He'd tried.

Never met him and stayed lonely the rest of his life. Never knew how it was to see him happy, how it was to have him touch him so casually. Never knew the pain of seeing him walk away.

How can Geralt still fix this? When he finds a which powerful enough to send him back in time? Or, even more impossible, by – talking?

It's too late – Geralt is already hurting.

“You want to know the truth?” Geralt says. He pulls the words out one by one. “It's my fault, all of it. The djinn, the child surprise. Yennefer. But of worst of it is – you.” “I'm your fault? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier stares at him, oblivious to the power he holds over Geralt. How many people have it on their death certificate – death by Geralt of Rivia? “This. The djinn, my stupid wish. I... hurt you. No matter whether I mean to or not. It's better you stay away. Safer. Because... whether one or the other monster gets to you quicker than me, or whether you fall into an abyss, or I make a stupid wish... or whether someone who hates me stabs you in the chest... I'll have to bury your body.”

__________

Jaskier has never been immune to Geralt's words, scathing or otherwise. No matter how much he pretended to be. These ones cause a different kind of pain in his chest, but pain all the same.

“None of this is your fault,” Jaskier says. “I made my choice ages ago. Years ago. I chose to follow you. I chose to sing those songs about you. I knew the risks. There's always risks. Otherwise you'll never have anything. Or anyone.”

I am your shadow, but you can stand directly under the sun and you still won't be rid of me completely. That's my little bit of destiny, Geralt – you will never have your blessing.

“Maybe that's better,” Geralt says and works his jaw. Jaskier watches every movement in his face and waits. “I will catch an arrow mid-air. When I see a monster going for the kill, I kill it first. I... want to stop the disaster before it happens.” “What are you saying?” Jaskier says and tries to keep his voice from shaking. “You and me, we're a recipe for disaster and you're the toxic ingredient? Come on, Geralt. Listen to yourself.”

Jaskier wonders if they can mend this, then. If it's really just Geralt being stupid and self-sacrificing, and an absolute idiot.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Geralt amends. “I... You got hurt anyway. I... I'm sorry.” He says, “I'm sorry,” but he doesn't say “I love you” and Jaskier always, always asks for too much. Well. He doesn't ask. Lie to me just a little. That would be mortifying. But he yearns.

People have called him a sinner before, because he indulges, because he wants – but he does coveting like nobody else.

“That's okay,” Jaskier says, because he does understand. “It's me who should have known better.”

“Aren't you mad at me?” Geralt asks. He looks confused. Jaskier wants to cross the distance between them, but he doesn't dare to.

“Why should I be mad at you?” Jaskier says softly. “Because you broke a dozen promises you never made?”

“We both know I don't mean what I say,” Geralt says, “and mean what I don't say. Please. Forgive me.”

And Jaskier does. He has.

But he wants too much -

“It's alright,” he says. “Or it will be.”

“Please,” Geralt says again, “stay with me.” And Geralt has never asked him to stay before. So he nods. And he hurts a little less – but he hurts still -

He knows he's not her. He's powerless and useless. He's weak – and he's weak for Geralt's soft smile. He is not the storm on the horizon, he is a gentle summer breeze. He is not a scream or a roar, he is a barely audible whisper. He is not a warrior – he is just a – just a poet in a world that doesn't have much love left for beauty. I am the pause where you are the passion, Yennefer.

Geralt looks concerned and like he's trying to work something out. It makes Jaskier go a little weakin the knees. My song doesn't draw you in, but you can let it wash over you when you are feeling kind-hearted. When you are willing to acknowledge that you are just a little bit soft inside.

Jaskier is less, always less – enough to appease Geralt, but not enough to sate him.

__________

“Yeah,” Jaskier says, “I'll stay.”

And Geralt tries not to feel, he does, but hearing Jaskier say that pulls something loose in his chest. Here's the risk. Here Geralt is falling again. It's what he wants, but not all that he wants. And he is a little afraid to ask for more – before he loses it all – completely. But there's a risk to it, he knows that now – otherwise he'll never have anyone at all.

Jaskier smiles at him a little and with his casual affection, Jaskier is more, always more. But still not enough to sate Geralt.

“I'm not going to bury you,” Geralt says.

“I mean, you could burn my body and scatter the ashes -”

“Jaskier.” “Sorry.” “There won't be a body,” Geralt says.

“Yeah, no body. That's fine,” Jaskier lies, and Geralt loves him a little more for it. Because that's what this is, love unravelling in his chest.

And Jaskier is here and Geralt is so breakable – the way no witcher is supposed to be. Jaskier can sense it, the way he feels vulnerable. He takes a small step towards him, where they're standing in the middle of the road.

I will shatter if you come any closer -

Geralt has never been made of steel – life has been chipping away at him, even when he pretended it wasn't. Jaskier comes closer still – and it's almost too much – but it's most certainly not enough -

Touch me, touch me until I can't remember whether I'm made form shards or ashes or dandelion seeds blown away by the wind. Scattered.

He tries to put it all in words - “I missed you,” he says. It's not everything, but it is honest. Jaskier gets what he means.

“I know you're scared,” Jaskier says, “that's okay. I'll always love you anyway. I'm stupid that way.”

And Geralt nearly breaks – but he doesn't – so he reaches out to touch Jaskier.

“Oh,” Jaskier says softly, “you...” “I figured out what I want,” Geralt says.

“I feel like I'm horribly misreading this,” Jaskier says, a little breathless. His gaze is fixated on Geralt's mouth.

“You're not,” Geralt says.

“I'm tired of hurting,” Jaskier says, almost weary.

“I promise – I'll try. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not even – me. Especially not me.”

“Oh. That's unfortunate. I'm dying in that dungeon, aren't I?”

“No,” Geralt says. He grabs Jaskier by the shoulder, a little too tightly. And Jaskier knows that he's real. “Come here,” Geralt says.

He kisses Jaskier gently – promising – I'll stay, I'll save you, I won't let go of you again, I'll let you, I'll always let you, because it's you -

It's like being carried away by the wind, to a place where arrows can't reach, a place from which every monster looks small. And they know it can't last, no dream ever does – but they will stay with their heads in the clouds. Just for tonight.

[spacebrick3]

Evenfall University: Ring of Fire Part 2

Part 2 of Mira’s adventures at Evenfall, and we’re introduced to some more of @note-katha‘s 1) amazing world of Evenfall, and 2) the main characters of her story!

Her classes, like her time at the university, don’t get off to a flying start. Hard for them to when she doesn’t believe in the course material. Which is why we find her now arguing with one of the professors: one Nina Wyst, Th.D (Doctor of Thaumaturgy), teacher of the Introductory Second Circle class at Evenfall.

“I don’t care whether or not you think I’ll be able to ‘wield the powers of creation and destruction at will’!” she scoffs, standing next to her desk and slamming a palm onto it, “because those don’t exist!”

“Miss Niemczyk,” and at least she can pronounce her name right, “that’s really not my concern. My subject doesn’t hinge on your belief, though your grade may. The midterms and final exams will test your abilities to perform with at least a modicum of power within your given circle - Second, I hope, for all of you, because if not you’re in the wrong class-“

She refuses to take the [obvious] hint to sit down and stop arguing. “So as long as I find a good special-effects crew, I’m set?”

“You will be taking the exams alone, Mira. Otherwise, it would be considered cheating.” She gives a lazy grin, tilting her chair back by another degree. “Look. You chose to come here, why not gain something from it? It’s not my problem if you believe in it, but it’s certainly yours.” 

With a snap of her fingers, a marker appears in her hands, and Wyst turns to the board behind her. The rest of the students react half a second later, muttering among themselves. “Second Circle magic, as I’m sure you’re aware, is the highest circle of magic people are gifted with, as well as the highest we are permitted to access. Highest in power, as it were, though lowest numerically, because of…numbering systems. Those old Babylonians were onto something, if you ask me-“

“Ever heard of Clarke’s third law?”

She sighs. “I try to encourage my students to be questioning, and you are succeeding admirably. Too admirably. Be quiet and let me do my job as a teacher, please.”

“‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’ - Clarke, in 1973. You tell us that what you do is magic - well, I don’t believe you. If you went around and showed a laptop, or a movie projector, or - or a car, or a plane, to people from 3000 B.C. then they would say it’s magic, too.”

“You’re interested in technology, then, Mira?” she asks, pinching her nose.

She is, although normally people mean computers and if(else) statements and tiny circuit boards when they ask that. ‘Technology’, to them, is just whatever the newest widespread innovation is, and those are all in computers. They’re done and over aeronautical engineering - except in the fuckin’ military, and she wants nothing to do with that.

“I guess?” is the best she can offer.

“Fine, then. Consider the Second Circle…materials science, of a sort. 3-D printing, engineering, chemistry - whatever field you want to say we’re talking about. After all-“ she smirks- “I am not telling you about magic, but instead about technology. Is that acceptable?”

“Um-“

“Because if it’s not, I may have to ask you to leave. I can only tolerate so many disruptions in my class, Miss Niemczyk, and while I applaud your spirit I find it misplaced. Understand?” Getting a glare - but silence, also - in response, Wyst spins the marker in her hand and turns back to the board. “Great! Before we have a more formal introduction to the magic, or ‘tech’, there is some administrative paperwork to handle - if any of you do manage to injure yourselves be aware that you may have a tricky time getting insurance to cover it…”

Mira sulks - there’s no better way to put it, even to herself. She slumps back in her chair, crossing her arms and muttering indistinctly under her breath. snatching the prerequisite forms from the poor front-row student assigned to pass them out with a grumble. Yes, you can call it technology, but that doesn’t - why do you choose to call it magic, then? she demands, in her inner world where she can win the argument. What do you gain by associating it with the mystical, huh? 

Unfortunately, winning the argument with herself does not put her in a better mood, or even a less argumentative one. You ever heard of Klass’ law? Because that’s one thing you didn’t address: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a rigged demo, and so is your ‘magic’. Just because you call it something different-

The girl next to her, in a glaring orange sweater - it’s not even pastel, sweaters are supposed to be pastel - taps her on the shoulder. “Hey - aren’t you the one - didn’t you say the same thing earlier?”

“That magic doesn’t exist?” Mira gives her a suspicious look, this unknown factor with dark brown skin and a full page of notes already scribbled on her page. “Were - were you taking notes of that argument?”

“No!” she whispers, guilty look giving her away. She’s even worse of a liar than Mira, who at least knows enough to deflect the conversation. “Maybe…look, it was interesting! It’s a compliment!” Even as she says it, though, she flips the pages in what she a) probably hopes is a casual manner, and b) definitely isn’t. “So? Are you the one from orientation?”

No use in denying it. She hoped she’d be noticed, wouldn’t she? She supposes she has only Samantha to thank for the whole school not already knowing her name, and whoever asked that question about the First Circle. “That’s me.”

“Why’d - I mean - what magic do you have? Or…um…” She flounders, realizing the problem too late. “…tech…”

She lets it go on longer than it needs to, a small smile creeping back onto her face. “I’m in here. Only two choices, really. Take a guess.”

Her gaze takes in Mira’s flame-red hair, the burn marks that still creep up her arm (when she finds whoever ran Steve’s Sulfur, they will die, and it will involve copious amounts of their flawed product), and her sullen mood. There’s only one conclusion she could come to: “Destruction?”

It’s the wrong one. “Guess again.”

“You’re…creation? Hey!” She brightens. “I’m creation, too!”

“Statistically, half of this class is,” Mira says flatly. “Nothing special.”

She waves it off. “So, uh, I know your name - Mira, I assume, unless she got your name wrong - but you don’t know mine, obviously. I’m Kalavathi - but you can call me ‘Kal’, everyone does - Nayri.” Kal holds out her hand, realizes it’s currently holding a pen, and quickly swaps hands. “Nice to meet you…?”

She sighs. “Course. Mira Niemczyk, don’t bother spelling the last name.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Their class is still doing nothing, Wyst going over the particulars with a nervous-looking student. “Hey - want to come over for dinner tonight? I think we’re - well, I’m positive we’re probably making pasta again because it’s what we can cook and what we like. But there’s always extra, too, and our other roommate…um…” Her mouth tightens. “She doesn’t generally come to dinner with us, so the invitation is open to you.”

It’s - an easy choice, actually. Harmony and Aishwarya and Nitya have no cooking skills - probably didn’t need them, at their fancy prep school in California - and her meal options are limited there. Meal options and conversation options, given that they all know each other and seem more content to talk within their group. Her own room - it’s one thing she brought from home, snacks, and the food truly is bigger in Texas - is just lonely. “Sure. Why not?” “Sure. Why not?”

Kal beams. “Great! See you at six!”

They separate after that, Kal heading to her own classes and Mira to Astronomy. It’s a useless class until it can start meeting at night - which the professor promises her is soon, just the moment they know her classmates can tell Mars from Mercury. But for now absolutely nothing is happening, which gives her the chance to fuck around on her laptop (she told herself she was going to get work done, and then she didn’t).

Still, she manages to lever herself out of the dorm and trudge over to where Kal said hers was, the weather only a light drizzle of rain. She doesn’t think she’s seen the sun since she arrived, and is almost starting to believe Harmony’s theory of magical rain. Almost. 

She stops. Starts. Turns the other way, to check who she saw leaning uncertainly against the wall. “Samantha? Is that you?”

Her glasses almost fall off her face - they’re horrendously unbalanced, sliding down every time she so much glances at the ground. Samantha does a lot of that, it seems. “Yes - Mira, I wasn’t expecting to see you…”

“It’s not that large of a campus, we’d probably run into each other-“ Wait. “How do you know my name? You told me yours but I never told you mine,” she says with a frown. 

“Oh! I, uh, I heard you shouting,” she mutters. “You…are very loud, sometimes. You were shouting, and saying that magic didn’t exist - like you did earlier. She said your name - Mira.”

“And you were just hanging around outside my class?”

“I - I had nowhere else to go,” she says with a hint of something indescribable, an echo of Mira. “The Third Circle class doesn’t start yet…and where else should I have been? You’re the only person I know - that I met - and-“ She drops her head in her hands. “Right. I will stop talking, and just leave, because clearly I am just making things - worse.”

Mira catches her. “Yeah, you’re not getting away that easily. Come on.” Her arm is cold, though it’s probably just the rain. It’s only September, it should be 80 degrees, and instead it’s 50 and wet, she grumbles to herself. “You said you didn’t have anywhere to go, right? I’m extending an invitation - of an invitation, but she did say there’s always extra-“

“I don’t understand,” she says uncertainly.

“Sam - I’m going to call you Sam, unless that’s not alright…” She waits, but the other girl doesn’t give her a response. Probably alright then, she thinks. “I’m heading to food with some not-yet-friends, and you are joining me.” It’s not quite a request, but Sam doesn’t object, and so the two of them arrive at the Melpomene rooms without a problem. Without a conversation, either, because Sam seems happier to stay quiet.

It’s only when she gets there she realizes she has no idea which of the rooms in the imposing - smaller than the others, but no building in Evenfall looks truly modest - structure is home to Kal and her roommates, nor is there an easy way to find out. “You wouldn’t happen to know their address?” she says, looking around the front room to see if there are mailboxes, labelled with name and room number.

“What did you say her name was?”

“Kal - Kalavathi Nayri. Why? Do you know her?” she asks, frowning. No. She can’t, because she said Mira was the only one she knew. “Which dorm are you in, anyways?”

“Nayri,” she says to herself, turning the name over. “Nayri. Creation magic. Creation magic is…” [Sam’s] feet take her, almost of their own accord, into the center of the room. “This level. Somewhere around to the left, I think. Depends where the corridors will take us.”

Mira follows her gaze, but can’t see anything. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You can’t see it? It’s a…green glow, that of creation - only one in this whole dormitory. Perhaps only those gifted with Third Circle, mind or soul…those who see the spirits of magic that inhabit Evenfall. Everyone has one…” She blinks. “It doesn’t matter. Where can we find the suite?”

She laughs. She can’t help it. “You can see people’s fuckin’ spirits, but not the doors? Over there,” she says, pointing. “It’s labelled. Suite number one, and there’s only two. Don’t think we’ll have to worry about corridors.” She knocks, feeling that there should be something a little bit more to it. “If we’ve got the wrong people, though-“

Her warning doesn’t get finished - she doesn’t know how to finish it, either - because it’s Kal who opens the door. “Oh! Hi, Mira! Welcome to the tragedy dorm, but don’t worry! As far as we know, nobody has died here!”

“Yet,” she says, glancing inside. It looks almost identical to hers, though already starting to bear the touches that will make it a space to live in - a stack of notebooks tilting dangerously on the table and pencils already scattered on flat surfaces. “The ‘tragedy dorm’?”

“They’re named after the Muses,” she answers. “Ours is Melpomene, who deals with tragedy. I think they all are, which makes sense, the Fifth Circle at least is supposed to be artistic,” she says. “And…I don’t know your name,” she continues, pointing at Sam. “Or who you are.”

She leaves the statement open, the implicit question that Sam doesn’t pick up on. “Um…alright…?”

“Introduce yourself,” she says, poking her in the shoulder. 

“Samantha Venera, Third Circle,” she says automatically. “And you’re Kalavathi Nayri, Second Circle, creation. Who are the other two people - there is…violet? Indigo? Fifth Circle, time, and a bright orange - voice, I think.” She frowns. “Creation, time, and voice, an interesting combination.”

Both Mira and Kal give her a strange look. “How - yes, but-“ Kal starts.

Sam smiles. “You’re at a magical university, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be expecting the unexpected? You have a witch in there who can meddle with time itself, perhaps you should broaden your horizons.” An uncomfortable moment of silence follows, her gaze flicking between the two of them. “I’m sorry. Perhaps - never mind.”

“Right then.” Kal doesn’t let it bother her for long. “We have food inside, and I’m sure you’ll be interested to meet my friends. And I’m, um, sure they’ll love to meet you - maybe don’t tell them about their, auras or whatever you’re looking at…”

She doesn’t. “Ardis Akiya-Blair-“ The tall, almost stretched-looking boy at the end of the table gives a wave- “Juli Cárdenas Rivera Silva Vicente-“ Next to him is a girl, slightly shorter (‘shorter’ in this case still towering over Kal, Mira, and Sam), in a mishmash of bright colors that somehow works - even if she can’t look at it directly for more than ten seconds. “This is Mira Niemczyk, from the Second Circle class-“

“Two things: Juli is overrated, call me Jules, and two, aren’t you the one from-“ Jules starts.

“Yes. Problem?” she asks with a pointed glare.

“I was just - well, anyway. Pasta is done, and it’s - not getting any warmer, so let’s eat first?” She’s deflecting, but she doesn’t care because a) she doesn’t want to be known as ‘that one person from orientation’, and b) it does look like good food. Mira takes her bowl with a mutter of “thanks”, the others around the table following as they get theirs.

It doesn’t last long. “So you really don’t believe in magic?” Ardis asks around a mouthful of pasta. “Even now that you’ve had your first classes and all?”

“Am I supposed to?” she replies acidly. “Why should I believe in it? It’s not made our lives better, it’s not being used to - stop wars, or end poverty, or do any of the things magic is supposed to be able to. It’s just for people here in the backwoods to fuck around with, yeah? And I’m not saying society got almost infinitely better when people, as a whole, stopped believing in magic, but…it did.”

“…but none of that denies that it’s real, does it?” He shakes his head, shooting an odd glance at Sam. “Like…being hungry is inconvenient, and if we were able to stop it’d be better for everyone, but - I mean, if we didn’t believe that we were hungry when we were we’d all be dead.”

“And yet magic isn’t essential for life, so…”

Juli clears her throat. “Ignoring the socioeconomic implications of magic - there is a more interesting question: Mira, we’re going to the forest probably tomorrow-“

“Are we?” Ardis asks, at the same time Kal says “Don’t tell her that!”

“What? It’s not like she’s going to report us - are you?” she asks, expression changing in a heartbeat. “You’d better not, and you-“ She jabs a finger at Sam- “um - I don’t know you, but Mira says you’re alright, so don’t.”

“You can trust me,” Sam answers, with another slightly-unnerving grin. “And I don’t know what you are expecting me to report - it’s not against the rules-”

“So you’re going to the forest?” Mira says. “What does that have to do with me?”

Juli looks guilty now, tapping out a rhythm on the tabletop. “So, obviously, we’re warned against going in the forest because of any dangerous magical creatures there. They’re, um, apparently a little more dangerous than the regular types of creatures, although that wasn’t going to stop us-“

“And me?”

“Well - do you believe these ‘magical creatures’-“ she makes the air quotes- “exist?”

“No.” Her pride, at least, won’t let her say otherwise.

“Exactly! There are some, uh, theories floating around that say they’ll avoid you if you don’t believe in them - it’s why no one from outside Evenfall gets killed - probably. So we’re inviting you with us to try and not die to them-“ 

Kal leans over, tapping her on the shoulder. “We are?” she whispers, not quietly enough.

“Yes! We are now!” she whispers back. For a supposedly dangerous expedition, if the forests of Evenfall are so dangerous, not a lot of planning seems to have gone into it. Not that college students would necessarily plan ahead for anything, regardless of its danger. “So - you in?”

Mira sighs. “Sure-“

“I’m joining you,” Sam says.

“What - I mean, we weren’t planning-“

“Too bad,” she says with a smirk. “You invited Mira to help protect you - there are things in the forest, things of spirits and spectres that I don’t think she’ll protect you from. I can help you - and I will, find what you want to find and avoid what you should.” She shrugs. “And though there’s no official rule against it, I doubt the professors or the TA here would be especially pleased if I were to report you.”

Ardis looks the least convinced. “I suppose there isn’t any way out of this.”

“Sorry. No.”

“Right, then.” He sighs. “Forest tomorrow it is.”

Tag list: @lady-redshield-writes, @no-url-ideas-tho, @ratracechronicler, @ken-kenwrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @cirianne, @lonelylibrary @maxbeewriting, @endlesshourglass, @thebloodstainedquill,  @anip-ocs, @note-katha @dreamwishing, @incandescent-creativity, @fatal-blow, @danafaithwriting, @wri-tten, @writingwhithotchocolate, @katekyo-bitch-reborn, @klywrites and @dogwrites!

[jaqucssx]

                ⚜  —  Have you seen (JACQUELINE AINSWORTH) around New York? They look a lot like (KATIE MCGRATH) but i don’t think they’ve even realized it! Some people say they are (OBSERVANT AND INTELLIGENT) and (IMPRUDENT AND ALOOF) but all we know for sure is they are (THIRTY-TWO), (CIS FEMALE, HOMOSEXUAL) and work as a (SPECIAL AGENT). I guess only time will tell but for now we’ll just call them the (CATACLYSMIC). 

TW: death, violence, mentions of serial killers, mentions of mental health, alcohol

⚜  —  If anyone would rather skip the lengthy background, scroll down until you find the Barricade section - that's strictly Jaques's personality and little facts about her !!

Blink

Am I just a creation of my upbringing? My monstrosity but a trait, the blood permeating my veins but poison. My lungs were bound to rotten with my first intake of air. Or am I the apple that fell far from the tree? The abnormality none dares talk of, a grim shadow lying in wait. Sunk in debauchery, afloat in a sea of destruction. The whys and hows matter little, in this narrative. No use delving deep into psychology, or theories. I am what I am, no lamentable excuses or justifications will change that.

Jacqueline Ainsworth understands enough of human nature to perceive her morals; nor black nor white, but shades of grey. Most are darker than others, more prominent. Some are hardly noticeable, but the danger is still unmistakable. In hindsight, it should be said her morals are questionable, simply put. Menace is part of Jaques’s nature; it’s in her blood, her instinct. She is an Ainsworth, after all, and destroying people is what they do best. (Or so is what she has been told in clarity by an angry mob, over and over and over again - until her name was forgotten, until Jaques was buried in their hatred and there was nothing left of the girl but a silhouette and the taste of dirt in her mouth)

Jaques remembers, if faintly - bitterly - of a time when her family’s name was not shared in hushed whispers, disdain tones, and sharp glares.

A time when the Ainsworth’s were Britain’s finest. Her parents were widely respected lawyers, their smiles kind and warm - full of love. Their only daughter - if a tad strange, was known to be well mannered, wearing the prettiest fake smile when needed. She hardly spoke to anyone besides her parents and the occasional school colleagues, but she could often be found trailing after her father in his office, or in her mother’s arm during boring functions. The perfect picture of prim and proper, the Ainsworth family were loved by neighbors and clients alike,  not a single bad word on the tongues of those who met the family.

But on occasion, one finds oneself immersed in dark waters; trouble.

Sat in the back of an ambulance, the police lights bright and vibrant amidst the darkness, Jaques hardly paid mind to her mother’s yells, which were daring to disturb the ghostly silence plaguing the night. Her attention was solely on her father, his calm eyes staring at her through the car window. Now, Jaques vividly remembers of the strangeness creating roots in her lungs at the sight of her father in the back of a police car, officer and agents crowding their house and invading their space.

Your father killed a bunch of people, the agent with kind eyes had informed her, and Jaques noticed how she struggled to speak the words - had to force each syllable and consonant out, her brain surely wondering how to best tell a girl her beloved father was a serial killer. And as her blood continued to stain the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her mother’s cries pierced the night, and her father’s eyes never showing any sign of emotions - Jaques knew, if she was in the agent shoes, she would be struggling too.

Breathe

Jacqueline Alexandria Ainsworth was thrown to the wolves, then. Shoved into the spotlight with little guidance. They devoured her, tearing into her with their bare fangs, trying to find similarities between her and her father. The same striking green eyes carry madness in them, people would comment.

Jaques was only fifteen, then, and the weight of her father’s sins left red angry marks on her shoulders. Her nervousness was apparent by how she carried herself, how she would often hide and avoid outings. It was all there – the fear, anxiety, doubts, and darkness. She pushed it deep into the base of her spine, a place so dark it would unable to flourish under the sunlight.  It threatened to rise, to shoot up her veins and consume her – But every time Jaques could taste it, she would swallow it back through the knots in her throat.

I am not my father, Jaques would say, over and over again - to police officers during questionings; to journalists inquiring about her affairs; to herself when the demons in her mind were speaking too loud for her sleep; would murmur it when asleep, tossing and turning while her mind was lost to nightmares.

And, truthfully, Jaques is not her father. She didn’t need to convince herself of it - even if her hands still shake and she can see nothing but ghosts in the mirrors, at times. Her morals might be questionable, but that has little to do with the sins of the father, and more with her completely clueless of humanity and what is socially acceptable. Space child, her mother used to call her, slowly learning our customs.

The space child grew into an oddity - replacing her ballet classes for fighting; shoving her piano to the side of her room, filling the empty space with books and red threads. Friends became fewer and fewer - as if they hadn’t already abandoned her when the news of her father broke out - And Jaques shaped herself into something capable of good; a linguist, an author, a doctor. Options which were all dancing on her mind, but every time she closed her eyes, Jaques could see her father’s sharp smile, the monster underneath. It took so long for her to notice, but she couldn’t unsee it once it was brought to light. You must watch the details, her father had told her once, for the secrets lies with them.

Jaques had always been an observant person, gifted, and when she found out what to look for, she didn’t want to stop looking - exploring.

You are too smart for your own good, she had been told at the academy, at college, by the occasional people she struck a conversation with - And your curiosity will get you killed, her father had warned during her rare visits, amusement in his smile.

You are far too young to die.

But the seed had been planted, and Jaques found herself following down a path she could hardly return from.

None would guess the child of a monster would grow into a skilled criminal investigator. Perks of living with a serial killer all your life, Jaques had dared joke, when inquired how she was so good at what she did. 

No one laughed. And the curtains fell.

She was contacted by the secret intelligence fairly young, defying expectations and solving complicated cases, barely flinching when seeing a crime scene. She would much prefer to stay with her papers and boards, but Jaques would more often than not be sent to the field, to investigate the pieces of evidence, create a scenario - find a killer.

She had a gift, she was skilled - You can think like one, you can get inside their head, her superior would say - but the brutality of it all took a toll on her. You can’t leave this life unscathed, she had heard - and Jaques couldn’t decide if they meant the job, her father, or both.

You had no right to play God, she had told her father and plenty killers, the bitter taste of sadness and anger never leaving her mouth.

She had watched colleagues and victims die, had saved lives, and put some behind bars. Her body was marred by scars and stories, bruises she would find herself poking and disturbing. After a particularly rough case, Jaques could not get something out of her mind - You are my child, her father had once said, his tone laced with a possessiveness she never heard before. 

You are not your father’s, her mother had once said, holding a damp Jaques after a particularly bad nightmare - you do not share his genes. You can’t become him. And despite the blurriness of her mind, Jaques understood. She understood when her mother told her about Martyr, the next day, and the story of how she met Jaques step-father when she was pregnant - how he knew, and made her his own daughter.

She knew, and she avoided the fact for fifteen years, but after a bad case - 

She had nearly died, and she would have gone without knowing him - and him without knowing her. With her mind words apart, Jaques was advised to take a break from the job, was sent to New York by her superior, in the excuse of - Find your damn father and quench the questions in your mind, then do your goddamn job right.

She has yet to unpack her bags - But Jaques hopes that with time, she feels less on edge.

Backfire

Jaques   Ainsworth is an oddity and an enigma - an unsolved problem and a puzzle missing its key pieces. Not intentionally, mind you - but as Jaques will say if inquire, my brain works in its own frequency. Her intelligence has never been questioned, it had been painfully obvious Jaques had a mind like no other - one perhaps that work on its own terms - but brilliant, nonetheless. A young genius, she had been called by teachers - who proceed to ignore her ADHD and offered little to no guidance on how to coexist with her brain.

Intelligence hardly means substance, however - And in Jaques’s case, that too is painfully obvious.

The girl is smart, smart beyond what would appear at first glance - if the cheerfully pink flamingo shorts she occasionally wears are of any indication - but her personality surely leaves to be desired.

Her social skills are very limited. Jaques hates socializing, and the unspoken rules of life in society. She can hold a conversation, of course, but Jaques would much prefer not. She is fond of her silence, and her thoughts - even if those often threaten to drown her in the tempest that is inside her mind. She can come off as cold, sarcastic, annoyed - naive, even - unintentionally.

People are complicated, she would say, fingertips tentatively tapping the keyboards of her piano, head close enough to feel the vibrations, you can't pick them apart and put them back together - can't know what they are thinking. 

Jaques had a gift for reading people, yes, but her own thoughts and assumptions were unreliable, made only by watching and guessing. She could not understand people - no matter how much the eyes can tell - and for a girl who only understood facts and certainties, patterns - the not knowing could be terrifying, as if she is navigating in the darks and sharks are biting the edges of her boat.

Her own extravagances and quirks would keep people away, too. Her own extravagances and quirks would keep people away, too. Despite her quietness, when faced with stimulation - ideas and theories and passion - Jaques can babble and stumble upon her own words, talking until her lungs run out of air. But if idea stroke in the middle of a conversation, Jaques has no problem in simply leaving - no matter who is speaking or what is being said. Her silence, too, can be deafening, and Jaques often came off as uninterested. She had always been lost in her own world.

Social skills aside, Jaques is sensitive - she can’t deal with certain things; if a light is bright, it will surely give her a headache; she often flinches and jumps at noises, her ears hurting; she feels anxious in crowds, and generally does not appreciate eye contact; she tenses when someone touches her more often than not. 

Jaques is not an easy person to deal with, but she tries - tries to be social, or, at times, make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

Jaques's problem is that she feels too much; fears, anxiety, empathy, darkness, curiosity - A turmoil of emotions and thoughts - All destroying her, and leaving her breathless and shaken. Diagnosed with anxiety at a young age, Jaques had little guidance in that department as well.

Her thoughts would often consume her, and for that reason, Jaques has always been labeled as unstable - unpredictable. You can read the mind of a serial killer, and people fear you might slip - physiatrists would tell her, and she hated their analysis. But, despite fear, it was well known Jaques wouldn't slip - no matter how deep her understanding and knowledge of sociopaths would go, the girl was far caring - and thankfully, not in that particular spectrum.

Still, her thoughts and emotions could be overwhelming, and Jaques often questions her sanity, and feels - at times - like she is losing her grip on it. Perhaps because of the cases, mixed with traumas and her PTSD - or perhaps because she was not raised to know how to deal with her emotions - but Jaques, despite the bitterness and hatred against people analyzing her mind, has frequent therapy sessions.

Her nightmares, however, will not leave her - and Jaques often finds herself waking up drenched in sweat, the images of a bad dream still lingering in the back of her eyes.

Little facts about her;

Jaques can be charming and fun, she just don’t see the point in doing that.

Is a ballet dancer - or, was. She still dances when she needs to unwind - Dancing until her legs collapse and her lungs ache.

Knows how to play the piano, and that's something she does very often.

Can draw, and carries a sketchbook everywhere.

If life had been different, Jaques would’ve been an artist.

She does hook-ups and has tried her hand at relationship, but work would always get in the way. 

Jaques know languages - she was on her way to becoming a linguist when she became obsessed with solving crimes.

She can fight, and often trains to let the steam off - but she much prefers not to.

She is a special case agent, not officially or formally, but people know Jaques can crack complicated serial killer cases like no other. 

So she has seen some shit.

Is actually really chill and friendly when you get to know her - in her own way.

Does not talk about her father, although she can crack some jokes about it.

My father was a killer, is not a fun party joke, however - so she hardly mentions the fact, unless if it’s necessary.

Her family is known and so is Jaques. Because of her father, because of her mother's job - a lawyer that could put even the hardest to catch criminal in jail - and because of her own cases.

Drinks coffee like water.

Drinks alcohol a lot, although she can never smoke. She hates the taste.

Her house is full of books, piling on the floor and bookshelves.

Jaques is messy, especially when she is solving a case. Any surface will be full of papers and empty cups of coffee.

Doesn't sleep often - not because she doesn't want to, but because she often forgets.

Can go from wearing only black suits to wearing a floral shirt and pink shorts.

Jaques was torn when she found out about her father - But she is determined to find the man now and tell him the truth.

If only because she can’t stand the thought of not knowing something.

She is terrified, however.

This girl, despite being a genius, is a complete idiot and don't let her fool you. Can't tell you what day of the week it is and will often trip and bump into doors.

Love dogs and has one, as well as a cat.

Is always touching things and she can't stand still.

Is probably married - I haven’t decided yet rip.

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

December 2018 Energy Report ~ Finishing What You Started

December 2018 Energy Report ~ Finishing What You Started,

FCGCT Commentary: We are moving from the mind, to the Heart… not the balancing of the two. The brain acts as a conduit while the heart processes. The mind conflicts with the Heart, and is the cause for imbalance, pain, fear, suffering and more. The mind… the ego, blocks the Heart, as it Edges God Out. Let go of the mind, and solely flow from the Heart, connected to the Unified Heart in Unity Consciousness.  Let go of wants and needs and move toward a paradigm grateful receiving.  We are moving into a paradigm of passion for co-creation in love everywhere present.  Desires are EGO traits, true passion is expanding love into creation with pure intent and creation of New Earth energy.  Passion must be in aligned intention of new earth = heart.  Change must be embraced, accepted, and allowed, as LOVE is the only frequency that will move forward.  Change is positive and with it comes expansion.  Allow change and embrace the energies pouring out from Mother of all Creation.

December 2018 Energy Report ~ Finishing What You Started

from Jennifer Hoffman

Can you believe it’s the final month of 2018? What a year it has been and this month is an energy wrap-up as we put the finishing touches on a year of spiritual initiation (an 11 year) and prepare for a year where creative energy, intention, and manifestation, all 5D energies, will dominate. Are you ready for 5D creation? If you aren’t sure what that means I’ll explain it in this article and just to get you started, it’s about being the CEO – that’s Chief Expansion Officer – of your energy, managing your energy container, setting good boundaries, and creating the energy path to fulfill your intention. To prepare for that the theme for December is efficiency and how we manage our use of our energy.

December opens in a completion cycle which is perfect for the final month of the year. Think of tying up loose ends, finishing what you started, taking care of your life’s business and re-organizing your priorities. Did you take on too much? Maybe it’s a good time to re-assess your commitments and let a few go. It’s OK to tell someone that you cannot meet a commitment and have to let it go. In fact, it’s far better to do that than to try to force yourself to honor a time or energy commitment you wish you had never said yes to and that you allow to drain your energy with regret, self judgment, and anger.

This is why I said the theme for December was efficiency because we need to learn how to be efficient in how we use our energy. Efficiency means to perform in the best possible way with the least amount of waste of time, energy, and effort. This month we can do an efficiency review of our energy and ask the following questions:

Is this situation the best use of my energy?

Am I doing things that I enjoy doing and being part of?

Have I over-committed my energy resources, am I giving and not receiving anything in return?

Is there another potential for my energy that I have not considered yet?

These questions don’t mean that you stop doing things for others, that you don’t exercise kindness and compassion, and that you pull your energy from everything. They do give you the opportunity to reconsider your own options before you give to others and to ensure that you are not over-committed, drained, tired, stretched to the limit, and unable to meet your own energy needs.

To explore the full potential of 2019’s creative options we will need to have full control of our energy so we have the energetic resources to expand into our new potentials and possibilities and not have energy leaks and drains sapping our resources. To do this we will have to learn to say no to people and situations that are not an efficient use of our energetic resources. That may be hard to do at first but remember that often the people you think you disappointment by rejecting their requests for assistance are merely inconvenienced because they have to ask someone else (see my article on Disappointed or Inconvenienced at this link).

So what does December have in store? First, the month opens with a Mercury retro which ends on December 6 and Mercury is at 29 Scorpio, recalling the long Saturn retro over this degree from June to September 2015. We also have 4 planets at 29 degrees of their sign. This is the degree of completion which contains all of the energy of that transit for us to reconsider, re-assess, and release before we take that next step. What an excellent message for December.

And we have a new moon on December 6 at 15 Sagittarius and a full moon on December 22, the Equinox, at 0 Cancer. Remember from the November Energy Report, from November through April 2019, all new moons are at 15 degrees, the degree of alchemy, and all full moons are at 0 degrees, the degree of absolute potential. 0 is no thing, where infinite potential exists because it is energy that has not yet taken form, which we do with our intention. It’s great support for our creative path in 2019. Every month we’ll have support for creation and transformation and unlimited potential.

One interesting astro point – Mars is in Pisces all month and moves into Aries on January 1. Mars rules Aries, the first sign of the zodiac so with its Pisces transit in December it is bringing us full circle, the Alpha becomes the Omega, the initiate completes their path and achieves mastery. I first wrote about this in the March 2015 energy report, which you can read at this link.

It is interesting that the new year will begin with Mars in its own sign of Aries, the sign of the pioneer, way-shower, and new beginnings, at the critical zero point, the very first degree of the zodiac. Another example of the alpha becoming the omega, coming full circle into energy congruence, becoming 360 within our Divine Trinity, and aligning our humanity with our divinity in a flow of congruent harmony. 

Do we need any more proof of the powerful creative potential that we are stepping into now?

The Solstice of  December 21 and is followed by a new moon at 0 Cancer representing home, family, the mother, and emotions. We have a lot of Chiron activity again this month, so look at the Martyred Healer paradigm you may be engaged in and start thinking about moving into your Empowered Mastery. Emotions impact our energy field, our health, our mental state, and every aspect of our lives. Pay attention to your emotional energy this month, and watch how your emotions either drain your energy or expand it.

November ended with a surprising announcement, the death of George HW Bush, a former US president. His death marks an important release of a significant amount of 3D density as he was a major cornerstone and embodiment of that paradigm of domination, power, greed, and control. There was a noticeable lifting of energy with his passing and we’re going to see more of the dismantling of this 3D power structure in  December and in 2019.  Jupiter’s entry into Sagittarius supports truth, justice, and higher thought and actions. Anything less than that will no longer be supported by the collective energy.

And finally December 2018 has a 5 energy, the number of transition from material to spiritual. Look at how 5 is written, it can become an 8 or a 6. The 6 is Virgo, representing detail, judgment, and service, and the 8 represents infinity, empowerment, and rebirth or destruction. Virgo is either in service as a servant or of servant as a Light Beacon or master.

The 8th sign of the zodiac is Scorpio, which has three representations – the phoenix which rises from the ashes of its destruction to be reborn, stronger and more powerful than before, the scorpion which stings itself with its own tail, or the eagle, which soars high in the sky with very clear sight that either focuses on minute details or sees far ahead into the horizon. These are key topics this month, they figure prominently in how we will use the creative energy of 2019 to expand into new and wonderful possibilities, and they are also described more in my upcoming book, which will be published this month.

It’s a powerful month so get complete and give yourself closure, learn to manage your energy resources, become your own Chief Expansion Officer (CEO) and start thinking about what you want to create in 2019.

~~~~~~~~~

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[radioleary-blog]

Trump Goes From Fox News to TNT!

Donald Trump owes a lot of his fame to NBC for The Apprentice and Celebrity Apprentice. And Donald Trump owes his Election in a large part to FOX NEWS. Trump has always known when to use a network to his advantage. Now 100 days into his term, with his approval ratings falling faster than a dog on roller skates, Trump has gone from FOX NEWS to TNT. Not the TV network, though, the explosive.

Trump has started dropping bombs on people, a time-honored tradition with leaders who really aren’t all that good at leading. War is what happens when people are bad at politics. When I first heard that Trump dropped a 13 million dollar bomb on Afghanistan, I just assumed they were talking about the female ‘Ghostbusters’ reboot. Wow, what a disaster! It was unwatchable. Not a laugh in that script. Who ya gonna call? “Ghost writers!” Too bad they couldn’t keep the ghost of Harold Ramis in one of those containment units, but he always was a Class 5 Entity. He probably haunted this production just on principle. When I saw the movie, I thought I was in a surround-sound theater, but it turned out it wasn’t the ghosts on the screen, it was the audience yelling “Boo! Boo!”

But I digress.

Trump bombed an ISIS stronghold in Afghanistan with the Mother Of All Bombs, the MOAB. It’s one of those Millennial acronyms, like YOLO, except it means the exact opposite of that. It means You Only Lived, Once. And if you happen to be a Millennial, let me put it in terms you can understand: The Generals told Trump “Hey, we’re hundo-p this bomb is on Fleek.” Trump said “Perf! I’m thirsty, and they’re throwing shade. Bye Felicia!” Sorry not sorry. And then we dropped the MOAB on ISIS. I guess ISIS is another Millennial acronym, and judging from all their recent losses on the battlefield, ISIS probably stands for “I Surrender! I Surrender!” Boom.

This bomb was big, let me tell you. “How big was it,” you ask, Ed McMahon-style? It was so big, it was almost as big as the bomb they dropped this week on Survivor! “HIYO!” Did you see the Survivor controversy? At tribal council, one low-life contestant outed another contestant as transexual, live on national TV, if you overlook the fact that it was filmed four months earlier. People all across America were shocked. Well, mostly they were shocked that Survivor was still on the air. There were howls of well-deserved outrage for this truly reprehensible contestant, I know they don’t let you bring a compass to the desert island, but I didn’t know you couldn’t bring a moral compass! But most of the outrage was for CBS, who had months to edit this revelation out but chose not to. Why? Well, because emotional trauma equals ratings equals advertising revenue. And I know they could have easily cut the scene, because they do let you bring a machete. What kind of advertisers does CBS hopes to gain by publicly outing a contestant? What corporate sponsors are cool with that? Maybe In-N-Out Burger? Outback Steakhouse? California Closets? The logo of Survivor should be changed to “Outwit, Outlast, Outplay, Out somebody.”

But again,  I digress.

So there were a bunch of ISIS fighters hiding in an underground cave complex along the Afghanistan border. And say what you want about Afghans, they’re a tight-knit community. Get it? An Afghan is tight-knit, like the blanket? Hey, man, it wasn’t that bad. So, the President had only two options, drop the Mother Of All Bombs on them, or send in United Airlines security guards to drag them out. But they felt the United Airlines jackbooted goons might be a tad too violent. If only the 9/11 hijackers had flown United Airlines, we’d have saved a couple of trillion dollars on a couple of endless wars. Yeah, I know, I know, that one was that bad.. Unless you happened to have been frozen in carbonite this past week, you know that United Airlines security thugs dragged an Asian doctor out of his seat because they overbooked the flight, and he did not go willingly. I’m not sure what the doctor’s name was, but from what he was screaming as the security guards slammed him in the face, his name may have been Doctor “No!” Anyway, right now United is trying to repair the damage from this week’s unfortunate Asian-toss with new incentives, they just introduced a ‘Frequent Dragger Miles’ program. From now on customer service comes first at United, they’re going to roll out the red carpet before they drag you out on it.

And Syria. The Thursday before last, Trump ordered a launch on Syria. And that same day, I ordered a lunch on Siri. Weird, right? Quite the coincidence. Personally, I’m not so big on getting involved in Syria’s civil war. Here’s the way I look at it, we had a Civil War once, and they didn’t help at all. So don’t ask us, Damascus! Man, that would make a great T-shirt for a pro-isolationist PAC that can appreciate clever word-play, but those two qualities are mutually exclusive.

Donald Trump recounted the events of the night of the launch in an interview, but it sounded less like a moment in military history and more like a late-night cable infomercial for cake. Apparently, just as we were giving Assad his just desserts, Trump was just having dessert. He was eating chocolate cake as he launched missiles at Syria. Wow, talk about death by chocolate! Trump said, "We’re now having dessert. And we had the most beautiful piece of chocolate cake that you’ve ever seen." Trump went on to mention the cake four times in a two-minute interview. Now I seriously doubt that this guy knows any more about cake than he knows about being President, he thought that would be a piece of cake, too. And how the hell does he know what kind of beautiful cakes this interviewer has seen in her lifetime? She’s in TV, she may have worked on any number of cake-related reality TV shows; Cake Wars, or Cake Boss, or Cake Czar, or Cake Fuhrer, or Cake Blitzkreig, or Cake Tet Offensive. And all of those cakes result in losing the Battle of the Bulge, amirite? Amirite? You know I am! Now I don’t mind if Trump wants to say it’s the best piece of cake he’s ever seen in his life, fine. We know he’d be lying, simply because that’s what he does, but, fine. Whatever. But don’t go saying that your cake is better than any cake somebody else has ever seen in their life. That’s this guy’s problem, always telling other people he know better. He tried that sales-pitch with his monstrous health care bill, and people weren’t buying it then, and they’re not buying your ultimate-cake bullshit now. I’d like to point out this is clearly a Marie Antoinette moment for Trump, but alas, we have been living in a land without irony for some time now.

And seeing as Mar-a Lago was just hit with serious health code violations for improper food handling, I’ll skip the dessert and just take the check, thanks. Health inspectors found “potentially hazardous” “high priority” violations at Trump’s “southern White House”, with meats stored at temperatures much higher the mandatory 41 degrees. The duck and beef were measured at 50 degrees, so when you see that beef coming, you better duck! And the ham was stored at 57 degrees! Even I start to turn bad at 57 degrees. Another violation was the smoked salmon, which was being served without “proper parasite destruction.” Sounds yummy, they must have caught the fish in that swamp they drained. Funny he doesn’t talk about this to the reporter, "We’re now having dessert. And we had the most unsanitary, unsafe for human consumption piece of badly-stored, room-temperature, parasite-infested swamp-cake that you’ve ever seen." So Eff this Mar-a Lago, political prisoners got better food at the Gulag Archipelago! Oh, just look it up, that’s damn funny. Fun fact: Mar-a Lago is Spanish for “Lake surrounded by Morons.” I did not know that. Ed, did you know that? “Yes!” HIYO!

Trump launched 60 missiles at the Syrian air base, one missile missed, 59 missiles hit. Hey, why do they call it a ‘missile’ when it hits it’s target? They should call the ones that miss missiles, and call the ones that hit ‘hittiles’. Although, thinking about it, ‘hittiles’ sounds like a Nazi candy. Forget that. All I know is the air strike played really well for Donald Trump, his ratings went up a couple of points, and he showed the world that the kid with small hands can play cowboy.

As Donald Trump put it, after he finished his cake, “Now people will take me Syriasly.”

And now, we’re on to North Korea. You know, I never really minded that Trump was vulgar and offensive, that was as close as he gets to charm. But I don’t like the way things are going. Things are going south, fast. I get the feeling the next thing that will be going south on the Korean peninsula is the North Korean army. Oh well, at least we’ll get a M*A*S*H reboot out of it. I like Alan Alda, and now he can tell us this war is stupid, too, in between ripping-off Groucho Marx lines. But I wish Trump would go back to swearing and talking about pussy. I don’t mind him dropping F-bombs, I just don’t want him dropping any A-bombs.

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

December 2018 Energy Report ~ Finishing What You Started

December 2018 Energy Report ~ Finishing What You Started,

FCGCT Commentary: We are moving from the mind, to the Heart... not the balancing of the two. The brain acts as a conduit while the heart processes. The mind conflicts with the Heart, and is the cause for imbalance, pain, fear, suffering and more. The mind... the ego, blocks the Heart, as it Edges God Out. Let go of the mind, and solely flow from the Heart, connected to the Unified Heart in Unity Consciousness.  Let go of wants and needs and move toward a paradigm grateful receiving.  We are moving into a paradigm of passion for co-creation in love everywhere present.  Desires are EGO traits, true passion is expanding love into creation with pure intent and creation of New Earth energy.  Passion must be in aligned intention of new earth = heart.  Change must be embraced, accepted, and allowed, as LOVE is the only frequency that will move forward.  Change is positive and with it comes expansion.  Allow change and embrace the energies pouring out from Mother of all Creation.

December 2018 Energy Report ~ Finishing What You Started

from Jennifer Hoffman

Can you believe it’s the final month of 2018? What a year it has been and this month is an energy wrap-up as we put the finishing touches on a year of spiritual initiation (an 11 year) and prepare for a year where creative energy, intention, and manifestation, all 5D energies, will dominate. Are you ready for 5D creation? If you aren’t sure what that means I’ll explain it in this article and just to get you started, it’s about being the CEO – that’s Chief Expansion Officer – of your energy, managing your energy container, setting good boundaries, and creating the energy path to fulfill your intention. To prepare for that the theme for December is efficiency and how we manage our use of our energy.

December opens in a completion cycle which is perfect for the final month of the year. Think of tying up loose ends, finishing what you started, taking care of your life’s business and re-organizing your priorities. Did you take on too much? Maybe it’s a good time to re-assess your commitments and let a few go. It’s OK to tell someone that you cannot meet a commitment and have to let it go. In fact, it’s far better to do that than to try to force yourself to honor a time or energy commitment you wish you had never said yes to and that you allow to drain your energy with regret, self judgment, and anger.

This is why I said the theme for December was efficiency because we need to learn how to be efficient in how we use our energy. Efficiency means to perform in the best possible way with the least amount of waste of time, energy, and effort. This month we can do an efficiency review of our energy and ask the following questions:

Is this situation the best use of my energy?

Am I doing things that I enjoy doing and being part of?

Have I over-committed my energy resources, am I giving and not receiving anything in return?

Is there another potential for my energy that I have not considered yet?

These questions don’t mean that you stop doing things for others, that you don’t exercise kindness and compassion, and that you pull your energy from everything. They do give you the opportunity to reconsider your own options before you give to others and to ensure that you are not over-committed, drained, tired, stretched to the limit, and unable to meet your own energy needs.

To explore the full potential of 2019’s creative options we will need to have full control of our energy so we have the energetic resources to expand into our new potentials and possibilities and not have energy leaks and drains sapping our resources. To do this we will have to learn to say no to people and situations that are not an efficient use of our energetic resources. That may be hard to do at first but remember that often the people you think you disappointment by rejecting their requests for assistance are merely inconvenienced because they have to ask someone else (see my article on Disappointed or Inconvenienced at this link).

So what does December have in store? First, the month opens with a Mercury retro which ends on December 6 and Mercury is at 29 Scorpio, recalling the long Saturn retro over this degree from June to September 2015. We also have 4 planets at 29 degrees of their sign. This is the degree of completion which contains all of the energy of that transit for us to reconsider, re-assess, and release before we take that next step. What an excellent message for December.

And we have a new moon on December 6 at 15 Sagittarius and a full moon on December 22, the Equinox, at 0 Cancer. Remember from the November Energy Report, from November through April 2019, all new moons are at 15 degrees, the degree of alchemy, and all full moons are at 0 degrees, the degree of absolute potential. 0 is no thing, where infinite potential exists because it is energy that has not yet taken form, which we do with our intention. It’s great support for our creative path in 2019. Every month we’ll have support for creation and transformation and unlimited potential.

One interesting astro point – Mars is in Pisces all month and moves into Aries on January 1. Mars rules Aries, the first sign of the zodiac so with its Pisces transit in December it is bringing us full circle, the Alpha becomes the Omega, the initiate completes their path and achieves mastery. I first wrote about this in the March 2015 energy report, which you can read at this link.

It is interesting that the new year will begin with Mars in its own sign of Aries, the sign of the pioneer, way-shower, and new beginnings, at the critical zero point, the very first degree of the zodiac. Another example of the alpha becoming the omega, coming full circle into energy congruence, becoming 360 within our Divine Trinity, and aligning our humanity with our divinity in a flow of congruent harmony. 

Do we need any more proof of the powerful creative potential that we are stepping into now?

The Solstice of  December 21 and is followed by a new moon at 0 Cancer representing home, family, the mother, and emotions. We have a lot of Chiron activity again this month, so look at the Martyred Healer paradigm you may be engaged in and start thinking about moving into your Empowered Mastery. Emotions impact our energy field, our health, our mental state, and every aspect of our lives. Pay attention to your emotional energy this month, and watch how your emotions either drain your energy or expand it.

November ended with a surprising announcement, the death of George HW Bush, a former US president. His death marks an important release of a significant amount of 3D density as he was a major cornerstone and embodiment of that paradigm of domination, power, greed, and control. There was a noticeable lifting of energy with his passing and we’re going to see more of the dismantling of this 3D power structure in  December and in 2019.  Jupiter’s entry into Sagittarius supports truth, justice, and higher thought and actions. Anything less than that will no longer be supported by the collective energy.

And finally December 2018 has a 5 energy, the number of transition from material to spiritual. Look at how 5 is written, it can become an 8 or a 6. The 6 is Virgo, representing detail, judgment, and service, and the 8 represents infinity, empowerment, and rebirth or destruction. Virgo is either in service as a servant or of servant as a Light Beacon or master.

The 8th sign of the zodiac is Scorpio, which has three representations – the phoenix which rises from the ashes of its destruction to be reborn, stronger and more powerful than before, the scorpion which stings itself with its own tail, or the eagle, which soars high in the sky with very clear sight that either focuses on minute details or sees far ahead into the horizon. These are key topics this month, they figure prominently in how we will use the creative energy of 2019 to expand into new and wonderful possibilities, and they are also described more in my upcoming book, which will be published this month.

It’s a powerful month so get complete and give yourself closure, learn to manage your energy resources, become your own Chief Expansion Officer (CEO) and start thinking about what you want to create in 2019.

~~~~~~~~~

Share Our Messages with Love and Gratitude

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Commentary from The First Contact Ground Crew 5dSpiritual Healing Team:

Feel Blocked, Drained, Fatigued, Restless, Nausea, Achy, Ready to Give Up? We Can Help! We are preparing everyone for a Full Planetary Ascension, and provide you with the tools and techniques to assist you Home Into The Light. The First Contact Ground Crew Team, Will Help to Get You Ready For Ascension which is Underway. New Spiritual Sessions have now been created for an Entire Family, including the Crystal Children; Group Family Healing & Therapy. We have just began these and they are incredible. Highly recommend for any families struggling together in these times of intense changes. Email: motherofallcreation@lovehaswon.org for more information or to schedule an emergency spiritual session. We can Assist You into Awakening into 5d Reality, where your experience is one of Constant Joy, Wholeness of Being, Whole Health, Balanced, Happy and Abundant. Lets DO THIS! Schedule Your Session Below by following the Link! Visit:  http://www.lovehaswon.org/awaken-to-5d/

Introducing our New LoveHasWon Twin Flame Spiritual Intuitive Ascension Session. Visit the link below:

https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-twin-flame-spiritual-intuitive-ascension-session/

Request an Astonishing Personal Ascension Assessment Report or Astrology Reading, visit the link below for more information:

https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-ascension-assessment-report

https://lovehaswon.org/lovehaswon-astrology/

To read our Testimonials you can follow this link: http://www.lovehaswon.org/testimonials

Connect with MotherGod~Mother of All Creation on Skype @ mothergoddess8

We are a Donation based service for the Planetary Ascension. Thank you for showing your support and keeping our website and Love Energies moving forward! Thanks for supporting your family of light in their time of need to fulfill mission. We are Eternally Grateful!

Donate to Love: http://www.lovehaswon.org/donate-to-love/

Thank You for Supporting our LoveHasWon Wish List. Visit Here: http://a.co/cYUBjRu

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