#but that mental image of summer walking in on them like that one vine the next morning had me HOLLERING

[hearts-hunger]

dralshy’a ka’ra (brighter stars): chapter two || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one

Series Summary: In the lake country of Naboo, you and Din romance each other under summer’s brighter stars. || Part Two of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Din takes you to bed, and you both realize something you’ve been wanting but haven’t spoken to each other about.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut | Word Count: 4.3k 

Warnings: smut, skinny dipping, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, talk of babies and birth control, gratuitous mando’a (special thanks to this translator!)

A/N: This one’s tender, y’all ♡ Mr. and Mrs. Djarin are very partial to soft giggly lovemaking, and I hope you are too! ♡

“Din... how many more kriffing steps am I going to have to walk up tonight?”

He stopped and looked back around at you, at least five steps ahead, looking no worse for wear even though he was the one in tons of beskar. He cocked his head and you thought you could see the tell-tale shake of his shoulders as he laughed.

“Not that many more,” he soothed, his voice amused. He closed the distance between you and held out his hand to you. Mollified by the gesture, you took his hand; before you could thank him, you surprised even yourself with a squeal of protest as he tossed you over his shoulder like a wayward child.

“Din!” you half-laughed, half-yelped, your hands flailing uselessly against his back. He gave the back of your thigh a firm pat as he started up the steps again, carrying you up the incline like it was a stroll in the park.

“You don’t have to carry me up, Din,” you giggled. You rather liked being toted around so ungracefully, and you liked the way his arm stayed snugly over the back of your thighs.

He gave a light grunt, the only indication that carrying his wife up a staircase on the side of a mountain was the slightest bit difficult.

“Didn’t want to listen to your whining any more,” he teased. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

You settled as much as you could over his shoulder, content to let him take you the last bit of the way up. You’d gotten off the ferry - which you’d thoroughly enjoyed - and started up the winding steps carved into the mountain towards wherever Din was taking you. It really wasn’t that bad, but you were impatient to get there and a little fussy at how Din didn’t even seem short of breath. You should probably invest in a little Mandalorian-style endurance training; then again, when you had a very fit Mandalorian-style husband, the matter didn’t seem that pressing.

You had been nearly there, and Din set you down gently after a few minutes. He kept his hands on your waist, and you raised a brow at him.

“Close your eyes before your turn around,” he said. You smiled and did as he said, letting him steer you until you were facing, presumably, the place where you’d be staying through your trip.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he said, and he sounded endearingly nervous. “I tried to pick somewhere I though you would like, and I... I hope it’s ok.”

You gave a soft laugh. You weren’t picky, and you were sure whatever place Din had picked out would be lovely.

“Okay,” he said. He rested his hands on your shoulders, their familiar weight comforting to you. “You can open your eyes.”

You did, and you couldn’t believe Din had been nervous about it at all. It was a gorgeous little villa, all light stone and climbing vines, warm and inviting. You looked back at him with a grin and hoped he knew how well he’d done.

“Can we go in?” you asked.

He chuckled. “Of course.”

You opened the front door and saw it was even prettier on the inside. You left Din’s side to look at everything, to explore every room - it was open for the most part, and most of the main room was taken up by a huge, inviting bed and a large fireplace set into the wall with a cheery fire crackling away in the grate. The entire right wall of the main room led out onto a shaded terrace with a pool that overlooked the lake and the surrounding mountains, so you’d be able to watch the sun rise from your bed in the morning and enjoy the sunlight all day. 

“Oh, Din,” you gushed. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said affectionately. “I’m glad you like it.”

You put your arms around his neck, wanting to be held; he obliged you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” you said, a little bashful.

He tapped his helmet against your head. “I wanted to,” he said. “You deserve it, for putting up with me and all the trouble I get us into.”

You laughed. “I like trouble. And I like you very much.” You kissed his visor. “But, I also like that pool very much.”

You unwound yourself from his arms and decided to be a little spontaneous; you undressed for him then and there, discarding your clothes in a heap on the floor without a care in the world. You smirked a little at how he watched you - you could imagine how high his brow had quirked in surprise and intrigue - and teased him further by unhooking your bra and offering it to him, dangling it by the strap.

“Um, thanks,” he said, his voice cracking a little. It was so sweet that you almost took pity on him, but you liked knowing how you affected him and gave him a coy smile as he took your bra from you and held it a too-tight grip.

He looked so collected, hidden behind his beskar, and you desperately wanted to see him; you wanted to see how he looked at you, to see the expression on his face as he watched you. More than anything, you wanted to touch him; you wanted to feel his skin on yours, to feel his warmth. You resisted the urge to help him undress and gave him one last tease instead.

“Come have a swim with me, Mando,” you said, tracing a finger down his chest plate. “Don’t take too long getting your armor off.”

Before he could answer, you walked out onto the terrace and dove into the pool with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent every free moment in her youth swimming in the lakes and rivers of Naboo. The water was wonderfully cool on your skin, and you surfaced to a darkening sky with the first stars shining brighter than you’d ever remembered them.

You swam over to the edge of the pool, propping your arms on the edge and watching your husband with unabashed attention. He was always careful with his armor - even in your more frenzied trysts, he always took the time to put all his armor together so he could find it easily if he needed to. The gloves and belt came first, then the thigh and shin plates, vambraces, and pauldrons. His chest plate followed, then his boots. It was an intricate ritual, the putting-on or removal of his armor; you’d always loved to watch it, to see how methodical he was with it.

He turned to place his armor neatly on the settee at the foot of your bed, and didn’t turn back towards you when he took his helmet off. You smiled to yourself; it was his own way of teasing you a little, making you wait to see him. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the beautiful brown curls, and placed his helmet next to his armor.

He made quick work of the flight suit, and you felt a warm and comfortable desire as you saw the planes of his back, the ridges of his lean and hard-won muscles. When he turned to face you, your breath caught in his chest; maker, he was beautiful, and you almost couldn't believe he was yours.

His dive was graceful, but he surfaced with a grin and a little splutter. He swam around for a minute, enjoying the feeling of the water on his skin, basking in the warm night air; you watched him with a lovesick smile, endeared by how much he was enjoying himself.

“It feels so nice,” he said as he swam over to you, his expression happy and relaxed and open. You loved how expressive he was; he had never really learned to make his face unreadable, and was more honest and open in his expressions than anyone you’d ever met. 

He took you in his arms, drawing him close to you; you rested your arms on his broad shoulders and sank into the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, studying your face like you were something precious. You kissed him deeply, sweet and messy and wanting.

“Did you like my little show, earlier?” you asked, tracing your thumb over his bottom lip. He grinned.

“Yes, I did,” he said. “I wanted to come in after you, beskar and all.”

You laughed at the mental image of your husband in the pool in all his armor. “Good thing you have a little self control, then.”

He gave an affectionate hum of agreement as he nuzzled against your neck, kissing light love marks into your skin. You tilted your head back to allow him better access and carded your hands through his wet curls, pressing against him as closely as you could. 

He pulled you close and led you into deeper water; when you couldn’t touch, you let him carry you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt a thrill of pleasure at the way his breath caught in his chest.

He made to kiss you again, and though you knew he wanted more, you only gave him a quick, chaste kiss. He raised a brow and watched your face for an explanation.

“Patience, my love,” you said with a smile. “I want to do something first.”

You put a hand to his cheek, tracing over the features you knew so well; he relaxed and settled for rubbing circles against your hips. 

He was beautiful, the ruggedness of his strong features softened by the gentleness of them. His brow, dark and noble; his mouth, soft and quick to smile. You brushed back a few dark curls that fell over his forehead and traced down the line of his nose; his expression scrunched up a little at that, and he gave a gentle laugh.

He let you take your time like you wanted, gazing at you with his lovely brown eyes framed by dark lashes and laugh lines. You brushed your fingers over his jaw and dipped your fingers to his collarbone, feeling his pulse jump a little at your touch.

You put your fingertips on his mouth. “I love you.”

He kissed your fingers. “I love you too, cyar’ika.”

You moved your fingers and kissed him, softly and slowly. He was patient and deepened your kiss gradually, groaning softly against your mouth when you pressed your hips against him. You felt the way he responded to your touch and felt yourself respond as well, that familiar tight heat making itself known between your legs.

“I want you,” you said, already a little breathless. He kissed your collarbone and moved his hands to the small of your back.

“Now it’s your turn to be patient, cyare,” he said, his voice warm and full of desire. “Lean back for me.”

You did as he said, letting him support you with his hands on your back; the stars were brilliant now that night had truly fallen, thousands of them in the cloudless sky. You fleetingly wondered if you remembered any of the constellations, if you - 

“Kriff, Din,” you breathed, all thoughts of the stars gone the second you felt his mouth on your breast. He chuckled against your skin, steadying you as you gave a soft moan.

“Do that again,” you said.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you. He swirled his tongue over your nipple, moving one hand to knead your other breast, gentle and determinedly patient.

“So beautiful,” he said, kissing down your breastbone. Then, his voice deepened a little as it always was when he spoke his native tongue. “Mesh’la, ner cyare.” Beautiful, my beloved.

His voice and his mouth on your skin made you flush with desire, and you raised yourself up to kiss him, impatient and needy. He kissed you back just as deeply, his hands moving all over you; you gave a choked moan when his cock met your heat, and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing against him, needing friction.

“You asked to take me to bed,” you said against his mouth. “Take me, then.”

His grip on your waist tightened, but his smile was gentle as he realized how much you wanted him, how needy you were for him. “As you wish, riduur.”

You didn’t want to spare the time, but you didn’t want to get the bed soaking wet either, and grudgingly took a moment to towel off as you got out of the pool. You consoled yourself with watching Din dry off, seeing the way the water shone on his skin in the firelight.

“Come here,” he told you, tossing his towel over the arm of the settee. You did as he said, tipping your face up for a kiss; he gave you one, but it was clear he had something different in mind. He picked you up by the waist and laid you back on the bed, standing between your legs, hovering over you and giving you feather-light kisses all over your body.

“Din,” you whined. As sweet as it was, you needed him to touch you with more than these teasing little glances. 

“So needy,” he cooed, lowering himself to his knees between your legs and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He kissed your thighs, his scruff rasping against your skin. “What do you want, my love? Tell me what you want from me.”

You gave a little gasp as he nipped at your inner thigh. “Um - I need - ” You almost blushed. “Touch me, please, Din.”

He hummed in agreement, inching closer to your heat. “How do you want me to touch you, cyar’ika?”

Oh, hang it all - he was enjoying this little game, and you knew you’d have to play along. You bit your lip; how could he still make you as nervous and fluttery as a schoolgirl after all this time?

“Your tongue,” you said, the words coming out a little tight. “Please, Din.”

He gave a soft, pleased laugh, and you knew you’d given him what he wanted.

“Hmm, like this?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he spread your legs further and licked a slow stripe over your heat, maddeningly patient as his tongue swirled over the places he knew made you moan. He was rewarded for his efforts as you keened and twisted the sheets in your grip, utterly entranced by the feel of his tongue on your heat, his nose nudging against your clit.

“Jatisyc,” he rasped in Mando’a, giving a last skillful touch to your entrance before he moved to suck on your clit. You tangled your fingers in his hair.

“What - ” you gasped. “What does that mean?”

He lifted his head and grinned at you as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Delicious,” he said, hovering over you, leaning on his forearm beside you. He kissed you, and you gave a gasping moan as he eased two fingers into you.

“Please,” you managed. You weren’t sure what you were asking for, but he seemed to know; he rubbed his thumb over your clit and you saw stars.

“Din,” you said desperately. He took his time and set a steady pace, stopping his kisses every so often to watch your face, and his look of adoration alone was almost enough to drive you over the edge. You gripped his shoulder and moved your hips against his hand, feeling yourself come unraveled beneath him.

“Oh, Din, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasped. 

“Maker, you look so beautiful,” he said, his voice deep with pleasure. “I love you so much, cyar’ika. Cum for me, my love.”

You could feel every callus on his work-hardened hands, strong and yet holding you like you were the most priceless treasure that might break apart with too strong a grip. He curled his fingers and hit the spot that made you tumble over the edge, moans and breathless curses falling from your lips.

He caught your moans against his mouth as he kissed you, drawing out your orgasm as long as he could for you. You babbled your thanks as you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him down to lay on top of you, deliriously happy in the crush of heat and limbs and kisses.

“I love you,” you said breathlessly. “Thank you, thank you.”

He chuckled and gave you sweet, sloppy kisses under your jaw. “My pleasure, cyare. Thank you for letting me.”

You kissed there for a few minutes before you realized it couldn’t have been that comfortable for him, and you parted just long enough for both of you to get on the bed. He hovered over you and kissed you everywhere he could reach, worshiping you with his touch and his steady praise.

“My love, ner cyar’ika riduur,” he murmured against your skin. “Mesh’la dala, my dear heart.”

You were almost embarrassed when you felt the sting of tears; sometimes you couldn’t believe how deeply he loved you, how desperately he desired you.

He gave a soft, sympathetic laugh when he kissed away a single tear. “Cyar’ika,” he said gently, trying to soothe you before he even knew what was wrong. “What is it?”

You hid your face against his shoulder. “It’s silly,” you said quietly. “Sorry.”

“No, cyare,” he said, kissing your neck with every gentleness, the roaming of his hands turned from teasing more to comforting. “Tell me. Are you unhappy?”

You kissed his cheek, nosed against his jaw. “No, I’m... happier than I’ve been in a long time,” you said truthfully. “Just... thank you for loving me the way you do.”

His smile was soft and a little wobbly with his own emotion when he lifted his head to look at you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I know I could live a thousand lifetimes and never love you like you deserve, but I vowed to love you faithfully, and I will be pleased to do so until my dying breath.”

You allowed yourself a little smile; he was always so poetic when he got romantic and emotional, and you wouldn’t have him any other way. You kissed him, feeling the depth of his conviction to live by your riduurok, your love-bond, your marriage vows.

“Vercopa baar bal runi tome solus, cyar’ika,” he said against your skin. You knew it was Mando’a, but you could only translate some of the words.

“Tell me what that means,” you said. He smiled.

“Let our bodies and our souls be together as one, my beloved,” he said tenderly.

“Oh,” you managed, a little dazed with pleasure at the thought. “Oh, Din, you should say that to me more often.”

He chuckled and settled himself between your legs. “Alright, my love?”

You nodded and carded your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of his curls. He took his time easing into you, catching your moans against his mouth until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

“Beautiful,” he said, like he would never say it enough. He brushed your hair back from your face and studied you with so much love that you couldn’t help but give him a beaming smile.

“That good already?” he asked, low and affectionate.

You laughed softly against his mouth as he kissed you. “It’s always that good, Din. Even just being with you.”

“Hm. I’m not sure if that’s a vastly generous compliment of my company or a low blow at my sexual prowess.”

You really laughed then, and he laughed with you, and it was a heady mix to hear his laughter and feel him deep inside you. You thought of what he’d said - let our bodies and our souls be together as one.  

“I love you,” you said. “And I love your company, and I think you’re mind-blowingly good in bed. How’s that?”

He smiled as he kissed you, and you gave a shaky breath when he started to move.

“Very sweet of you, cyare,” he said affectionately. “I’ll do my best to be mind-blowingly good for you, alright?”

You knew as soon as he snapped his hips against yours, he’d have no problem with that whatsoever. He was slow and patient, as he always was, careful and attentive and tender. He rocked his hips against yours fast enough to make you desperate for him but slow enough to bury himself deeply with each thrust and kiss you like he wanted, making you moan and twist with pleasure beneath him.

“Din,” you said, over and over. His hand found yours and held tightly, like you were the only thing tethering him in the whole galaxy. You felt your pleasure crest between your hips.

“Oh, please, right there,” you said. He rubbed your clit in time with the steady drag of his cock in and out of you, and you knew you were close.

Then, with a clarity that snapped you out of the haze of pleasure and made you gasp with realization, you remembered something very important.

“Din!”

He stopped immediately, hearing the change in your tone; you knew it had to have been hard for him, and his expression held a slight grimace as he looked to you.

“What is it, love?” he asked, breathless. 

You met his eyes and almost didn’t know how to say it.

“Um - I - ” You blushed. “I’m not on my birth control.”

He looked a little bemused, and with good reason - you’d been taking birth control for as long as you’d been married, and you’d never talked about coming off of it.

“You - you what?” he asked. “Since when?”

“I ran out of them,” you explained. You hadn’t meant to come off of them, but you’d completely forgotten it had even happened. “I ran out of them right before we crashed on the frozen planet, and in everything that happened after, I...”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can understand forgetting it in all the confusion.” He glanced between you and then looked back at your face in question.

“Should we stop?”

And oh, you were so in love with him you thought your heart would break with it.

“No,” you said quietly, thinking about your conversation earlier, when the plural “kids” had slipped out, and how much you’d wanted to tell him then and there - you wanted to have another baby with him.

“I...” You felt nervous and shy, even though you knew you didn’t need to - you could be honest with Din, even if you didn’t know what his response would be. Even if he didn’t want more kids, he’d be kind and gentle with you when he told you so.

“I want another baby,” you said softly.

You waited for him to answer, but you saw it on his face before he spoke.

“Really?” he asked, delighted and eager and more in love with you than you deserved. “You really want another baby?”

You nodded, and you couldn't help a smile when he laughed out loud.

“Maker, I love you so much,” he said, kissing you with that big grin on his face. “I want another baby, too. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

You were a bit overwhelmed with relief and happiness and sheer adoration for your husband, and you held his face in your hands as he kissed you.

“Let’s have another baby,” he said.

He looked so beautiful to you just then, his smile soft and warm, his curls catching the firelight, his strong body relaxed and comfortable against you.

“Okay,” you agreed, happier than you had ever been. “Let’s have another baby.”

With a kiss that said just how deeply he loved you, he started to move again, steadily bringing both of you back to the edge you’d very nearly been at before. Each snap of his hips seemed more deliberate now, intentional - he wanted to please you, and he wanted to make a baby with you. You hoped it wouldn’t take long to achieve the latter, but you knew neither of your would mind trying until you got it right.

He drew you to your orgasm with skill and tenderness, and he followed soon after as you tightened around him and breathed his name over and over. He kissed you fervently as you came down from your high in each other’s arms, praising you and thanking you and telling you how happy he was.

He cradled you tenderly against him as he lay beside you, running his fingers over your skin, soothing and gentle. You pressed against him, wanting his warmth, wanting to be as near to him as you could.

“Remind me how you say ‘I love you’ in Mando’a,” you said, putting your hand to his cheek. He smiled.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he said, his voice warm and tired and affectionate. “I hold you in my heart forever.”

You repeated it back to him, fumbling a little on the finer points of the pronunciation - you loved it when he spoke it to you, but Mando’a had never been your strong suit. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he kissed you and held you closer.

“I love you too,” he said. “I could never tell you how much, cyar’ika.”

You cuddled closer to him as he drew the blankets over you, resting your head against his chest as you listened to the crackling of the fire mix with the sound of his steady breaths that were evening out towards sleepiness. He gently brushed his fingers through your hair and hummed a gentle lullaby, and his kiss on your forehead was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep safely held in your husband’s arms.

Read chapter three!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​, @stardust-galaxies​, @theorganasolo​, @qhbr2013​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​, @sarahjkl82-blog​, @remmysbounty​, @bitchin-beskar​, @cosmicbreathe​ ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[halfgclden]

Camping and Cosmos and Crinitus (oh my) | Jordan&Caspar

Date: Late July, 2020

Summary: two bros, chilling at a campsite, zero feet apart cause they are gay

There was a certain nostalgia that came to Jordan as he walked through the woods, a small pack on his back as he followed Caspar to what he'd said was a great spot to see the stars from through the trees. This nostalgia was of course interrupted by the fact that he was with Caspar, holding a leash attached to a dog that kept straining against his harness, and in woods that he had not camped in before. This left it familiar with a slight edge of bittersweetness, which Jordan was unsure about, but still enjoyed. 

When they'd gotten to the campsite, they were eager to set everything up so that they wouldn't have to rush later. The process was not unfamiliar to them, but it still took time, and the sun was hanging low by the time they'd finished, not quite sunset, but early evening. Jordan enjoyed the fact that they were fairly far removed from camp, from deadlines and seriousness. Here it was still, and it was good. Jordan inhaled slowly as he took a seat on the ground in front of his tent. "Do you come out here a lot?"

Caspar had picked this particular spot for the clearing in the above treetops which happened to give way for a great view of the stars. It'd been awhile since he'd done camping like the way these two had planned for tonight. He had become used to opting for a cozy night-in instead, but this was just as much a part of him as taking a great nap was. Even though this little camping trip had been inspired by nothing more than clearly seeing the night sky, it began to feel like a proper holiday once everything was set up. Cas had finished poking at the small fire he'd managed to build and took a few steps back so that he could answer Jordan's question. "Not too much lately," He confessed and then joined his friend on the nearby ground. "I like being outside so much though, I should get back into it," He thought aloud and with a shrug. "Which is why it's so cool that you agreed to come out here."

Jordan watched as Caspar tended to the fire, and unclipped Crinitus from his leash when the puppy seemed calm enough not to immediately bolt into the woods. He nodded at Caspar's answer, pulling his knees into his chest and resting his elbows on them. "Ah, yeah, well, y'know." He pressed his lips together, annoyed at himself for being so inarticulate in response. "Sure love me some outside." He smiled at his friend and shrugged. "Nah, I just haven't been out camping in a long time, so you suggesting it was actually pretty cool. And these woods are different, so it's... I dunno, cool to change it up?" He laughed and shook his head. "We really said fuck being comfortable and having a mattress, huh? Time to sleep on the ground tonight."

Caspar was pleased to have the chance to be sitting there with the company they kept by their side. "Crikey, we defo did. Fuck mattresses, huh?" He chuckled lightly, but was still maybe just a bit self-conscious as well (and seemingly for no serious reason). Having listened to Jordan talk in the way he so naturally did made Cas feel better. His embarrassment was a fickle thing and he leaned back. Jordan's specific brand of humor was much appreciated. "Wait, what’s the scenery like back home for you?" He asked.

Hearing Caspar swear was always funny to Jordan. It sounded less than natural, but not exactly stilted, and combined with the Australian slang, he found it strangely adorable. He didn't seem to notice any embarrassment coming from his friend as he shrugged, watching the fire that Caspar had set up. "Depends on what you count. First place I ever went camping was in this place where in the winter we only had four hours of sunlight, and I shit you not, I went dogsledding more than once." There were few fond memories of the Yukon in Jordan's mind, but camping was some of them. "In the summer, there was all but four hours of sunlight, and that's when we went camping. When it was hard to sleep and we'd end up sleeping anyway because we were all sticky and tired from hiking all day." He smiled to himself, then looked down. "And then, where I'm... I guess from now, like, where home actually is. That's way more forest, way easier to deal with. It's in the Pacific Northwest. Got the whole temperate rainforest vibe, bears and cougars and shit. The West Coast Trail and the like. Trees bigger than you can probably imagine, half the firewood is wet." Jordan shrugged once again, feeling rather exhausted from talking so much. "What about you? How's it camping in Australia?"

Caspar listened to Jordan's answer and shifted his gaze from him to the fire and back again. "Wait, wait, dogsledding?" His interest was caught by the mere unexpectedness of it, or maybe it was only unexpected because Caspar hadn't seen snow until he came to camp. "Like that one cartoon feature where the wolf-dog saves the sick children?" He asked but then chuckled. "I love that. I didn't think people really did that. I think that's so interesting," He commented and continued on with his trailing spoken thoughts. "The vast differences in the places around the world are so..." He tried to think of the right word but he doubted he got the right one. "Astounding?" Cas shrugged. "I personally would love to see those giant trees. I bet they're nothing like I've seen," He said. "Aussieland's cool because there's... I guess you'd call them jungles? It's not wet like the Pacific Northwest. You can find firewood easily and there's so many places to walk and explore, but you gotta look where you're walking." He described.

Jordan couldn’t help but groan when Caspar mentioned the animated movie that had been etched into his memory. “Fuck off,” he snickered, shaking his head. “Yeah, just like fucking Balto.” He rested his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, looking at and actually listening to Caspar as he continued to speak. “Yeah. You and me could wrap around either side of some of them and have trouble holding hands on the other side.” Jordan hummed, trying to imagine a hot jungle, but just kept imagining clips from Jumanji. “Because of wildlife? Or flora? Or both?”

Caspar watched as Jordan reacted to Balto being brought up and he giggled mostly because it wasn't expected. He then leaned back and his mind began trying to visualize how big the tree would really have to be. When it got to the point where he couldn't fathom the width any longer, he reached his arm over so he could give Crinitus a few good scratches. "Oh, uh, both? There's trails back home with different rankings that're supposed to let you know how rough it's going to be. Some are rocky, some are covered in roots or vines," Cas responded and sat normally again. "There's snakes and stuff too, but if you keep an eye out as much as you can, everything's fine. If you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone..." He shrugged. "The stars must be visible all the time there during the summer though, right? I think that'd be cool, not only the stars but to live like that without sunlight."

Jordan couldn't help but smile when Caspar giggled, laughing quietly as well, happy that his amusement landed well. "I get that. Like, fuck though, I know you said the coral got you, but you ever get bitten by a snake? I feel like that shit is hardcore, especially with how much wants to kill you out in Australia." He nodded. "Oh yeah, I can kind of tell what time it is from the stars. Or... I used to. It's harder here." He shrugged and leaned forward. "It's like, you know how some people can tell time from the position of the sun in the sky? Like that. But," he said, jumping to a new subject, "you have totally different constellations, yeah? I guess you know both by now though. You know much about the myths around the ones in the southern hemisphere?"

"Nope, no snake bites," Caspar proudly announced but listened to Jordan as he talked about the stars and the sky. "I'm not the best at telling the time from the sun, but I can usually spot a constellation in no time. I'm probably better at spotting the southern ones, but I don't know. It's been awhile since I've seen them," He smiled warmly. "But, down under, I don't know if things want to kill you. There's not... psychopathic spiders out there," He snickered and began digging through his nearby pack. "But, uh, yeah, I know some myths," He focused back on Jordan and held him out a bag of marshmallows, but kept talking. "One of my favorite's is a star cluster that used to be called 'the herdsman' back in ancient times. Everyone now thinks it looks more like a kite though, so it's cool because it's adapted with the times," Caspar kept the chocolate and the crackers in his hand, although raised them to bring attention to his idea. "I can tell you more, but should we make this camping trip official?" He questioned, smiling again.

"Yeah, also using a phone or a watch works better than anything. But when you're eleven and camping, you don't really have that shit." Jordan tilted his head at Caspar and raised his eyebrows. "Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me there's not spiders that have been premeditating my murder? Bullshit. They have eight legs for a reason. Six of those hands can hold guns and they can still walk. I know they're up to something." He grinned, clearly amusing himself as he eyed the marshmallows in Caspar's hand. "It's pretty cool how shit like that develops, yeah. It's like language and sayings that we have no idea where they come from." He sat up a bit straighter and stood. "Absolutely. I'll grab us some sticks. Keep telling me about the herdsman though, unless that was it," he said over his shoulder as he walked to snap a few sticks off of a nearby tree. "Sure hope this isn't a dryad."

Caspar chuckled at the mental image of a big spider holding guns while walking around at the same time. "Those little sayings are called idioms," He casually mentioned and then opened the bag of marshmallows. He left the fetching of the sticks to Jordan. He glanced at Jordan and chuckled again. "I think a dryad might let you know, if that's the case," Caspar set up two graham crackers and put chocolate on both. "But, um, the herdsman has a supergiant star that helps make up it's constellation. It's the fourth brightest star in the whole sky and it's an orange-red color." Cas described more about the topic of astronomy.

Jordan nodded. “I’m a fan of them. I think what I like best are malaphors, though.” He pulled out a pocket knife as he returned to sit down next to Caspar again, whittling away at the sticks so that they would be pointy enough to stick into the marshmallows. “That’s when you take two idioms and smash ‘em together. Like, ‘we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it’ or...” He held out one of the sticks to Caspar, then chuckled. “A bear in a glass house is worth two in the woods.” He nodded. “Fuck, that’s cool as hell. I’ve never been big into space, but the fucking vastness of it all is crazy. Like how half of those stars are burnt out, but we’re so far away we can still see them. That sort of shit fucks with my head, you know?”

"Those are ace," Caspar giggled at the malaphors that Jordan had prattled of. "You’ve opened this can of worms, now lie in it," He added his own with a proud little smile. His eyes then twinkled as he remembered something else that had seemed interesting about space and pertinent to the conversation as well. "They actually just discovered a new galaxy not too long ago, I think last year some time? But it's bloody far away from us and kind of hard to see because of space dust but they've got the tech nowadays," Cas said. "It definitely fucks with my head, but in a good way. I like contemplating different stuff though, I guess."

Jordan grinned, his own eyes glinting as Caspar added one of his own and he chuckled along. “Looks like malaphors are our piece of cake.” He nodded as he listened to Caspar and took one of the marshmallows to skewer on his stick. “Is it visible with the naked eye? Probably not, if it’s that far, especially with how much light pollution there is now. Have you ever listened to those things that are like ‘what the planets sound like’? There’s something going on with Jupiter that is just fucking nuts, man.” He shook his head and tilted his marshmallow towards the fire, sitting far enough away that he could barely feel the heat against his legs with his pants. “You seem thoughtful a lot of the time.” He smiled, watching Crinitus chew on a stick beside him. “Can call it spacey, if we ignore the negative connotations.” He leaned back a bit, but kept his marshmallow forward. “I was thinking about taking an astronomy class next semester for my science cred. I always really liked physics and shit like that, but I don’t know if I can be bothered to deal with quite that much work with all my other classes.”

Caspar shook his head to silently answer Jordan about the newfound galaxy being visible to the naked eye. He smiled while he did so because he simply enjoyed listening to his friend speak. He took the other stick Jordan had sharpened and skewered himself a marshmallow. Cas began letting it hover over the flames. "I like spacey, we can defo ignore the negative connotations. Tai actually calls me Cosmo a lot, so its kind of a perfect fit," He casually expressed as he watched his treat with intention. "I think that class'd be a beauty. I would help you if you really did end up wanting to take it. I wouldn't want you to overload yourself though," He shrugged after his offer, Cas was still smiling, and looked over at Crinitus. "—He's being such a good boy." He spoke as his trailing of thoughts shifted to the the dog for the moment.

Jordan rotated his marshmallow slowly, though it was too far from the fire to start browning yet. "Yeah, I thought that was pretty clever, actually. Very aussie of you guys." He smiled at Caspar. "That'd be ace." He squinted, unsure if the word felt right in his mouth. "I don't think it'd be too much of an overload. I hear the prof is pretty good, and we get to take trips out to an observatory." He pressed his lips together as he thought about something. "If we wanted to, we could probably look into making a trip up there, where the light pollution is less bad. Me you and Tai could all chill out and look at the stars up close." He glanced back over at his dog and smirked, shaking his head. "He's kind of an idiot, but he listens pretty well." He leaned back and grabbed his jacket from where it was sitting behind him, and pulled out a bag of jerky that made Crinitus's ears shoot up, his attention now on Jordan. He looked at Caspar and held out the bag to him. "Wanna give him a treat?"

"Ace?" Caspar repeated and lightly chuckled. "You're sounding more and more like a true blue Aussie bloke every day," He teased and bumped shoulders with Jordan, but made sure it wasn't too hard because of the fact they both were still roasting their treats. The idea that his friend had posed about taking a trip out to an observatory was too good to pass up. "I would love to do that... And with the two of you? I think that'd be a fantastic idea," He chimed back, fully agreeing to the proposition, but his eyes were on the bag of jerky. "—Oh, yeah, can I?" He asked with an excited expression but took the bag from Jordan as it was offered. "Crinitus," Cas called out even though it was redundant because the dog's attention had already been caught. Managing poorly to juggle his marshmallow stick, he opened the bag and picked out a piece. Caspar tossed it to the dog. "I think he deserved it," He confirmed to Jordan with a pleased smile. It lasted only a second longer because he then realized his marshmallow had caught fire. Caspar dropped the bag of jerky so he could tend to it before it got too burnt. He laughed as he attempted to blow out the fire and when it was done successfully, he began inspecting it. "Ah, what a fool I am." He joked regarding the state of his marshmallow.

Jordan nudged Caspar’s ankle with his foot as Caspar bumped him, keeping his stick in place as he rocked from one side to the other, an almost shy smile making its way to his face. “Shut up.” He laughed, ducking his head. “Catch me never fuckin’ saying that shit again.” He turned his stick slowly again, smiling to himself and not looking directly at his friend. “We can go some clear night or whatever, I can figure out the deets.” He reached over to grab a piece of jerky himself, smiling at how pleased his dog seemed from the snack. His eyes grew wide at the sight of Caspar’s marshmallow catching fire, and let out a small breath of relief when it was put out, pulling his own stick closer to prevent the same scenario from happening to him. He snickered at Caspar calling himself a fool. “Absolute buffoon.” He smiled, then held out his own marshmallow towards his friend. “Uh, we can switch if you want. I don’t mind burnt food,” he lied.

Caspar laughed and didn't take the other's words too hard and, when the marshmallow was not on fire any longer, he smiled over at Jordan. He realized Jordan was offering his own marshmallow and shook his head. "Oh, no, no, I can eat it. No worries," He assured him. "It's just a little bit more done than I try and go for, but I don't mind either. There's a fine line when roasting 'mallows." He said and began putting the rest of his treat together. When it was done, he took a bite and gave Jordan the 'ok' sign with his fingers and smiled with a closed mouth as he chewed.

Jordan smiled, happy that he didn’t actually have to trade marshmallows with Caspar. He’d regretted the offer as soon as he made it, but it wasn’t the type of thing he would have gone back on.  “Dope, I’m sure it’ll taste fine with everything else anyway.” He rested the stick between his knees and pulled the outside of the marshmallow off, stuffed the chocolate inside, and then put the graham crackers around that. He held it up to Caspar. “Mess-free s’more,” he explained before he took a bite.

"Whoa, you're a genius," Caspar pointed out as he observed how his friend put together his s'more. "Where'd you learn that?" He smiled, curiously as he began to eat his much more messy s'more than Jordy's. "Or did you just figure it out on the spot?" He chuckled.

Jordan brightened at the praise, and sat up a bit straighter. He took a bite of his s’more and spoke around it, holding a hand in front of his mouth. “My sister actually made it up. I was kinda fine with getting all sticky, but for some reason it seemed to bother her.” He laughed. “But she’s not here so maybe I should take the credit for being smart as hell.”

"Crikey, I'll totally give you the credit," Caspar said while finishing up his s'more. "I'll pretend I didn't hear anything but you being wicked smart..." He assured the other and, with eyes on Jordan, a smile grew warmer and wider on the pale boy's soft expression. "I want to know you more, Jordy," He commented; turning more to face the other. "Can I ask what your relationship with your sister's like...?" Caspar asked then immediately realized something. He exhaled although he barely let his content features falter. "—Sorry, I kind of assumed you weren't talking about sisters here, right?" He asked to confirm.

Jordan smiled at the compliment, dropping his hand since he wasn't eating and speaking at the same time. The sincerity of Caspar's next statement made Jordan shift slightly, turning his gaze to his dog once more in an unconscious effort not to make too much contact, though he did have to admit that such a comment was pretty funny next to what he found to be a rather ridiculous nickname. He raised his shoulders in a shrug. "Uh, yeah, not..." Jordan didn't always know what to call his relatives at camp, he supposed that someone else calling them sisters was fine, because when you got down to schematics, that's technically what they were. "Yeah, I... I dunno, I know everyone here except me is real close with their half-siblings at camp, but..." He shrugged, rubbing the side of his neck with one hand. "I don't know, me and my sister, like, my actual sister, we've been through a lot together, and I feel like counting these people that my godly parent who I haven't even met happened to also parent is... I don't know, it feels like it discounts things." He stretched his legs out in front of him and sighed, though it was somewhat of a groan. "Ugh, that wasn't even the question." He felt stupid, feeling the need to explain himself when he wasn't even being confronted, and turned his face away from Caspar. "We're close. Less now than we were, since we're... physically far, but she's one of my favourite people." His skin crawled as he thought about how vulnerable he felt, and he put the s'more down on his knee so he could pick up the sick again and dig it into the ground. "You don't have any siblings, right? Excepting your camp ones. That why you guys get along so well?"

Caspar understood what Jordan was talking about. He felt the need to assure his friend that his point of view was valued, especially after he heard him groan, but remained silent as to let him finish with all of his thoughts. When Caspar was posed with questions to answer, he smiled warmly under the crackling hues of the amber-colored fire. "Oh, no, I actually have two brothers, and a sister back home in Brissy, too," He shrugged, realizing he never revealed that information earlier. "They're all cool in their own way, I guess, but... I always felt like the odd one out around them?" With his hands free again, he dusted them off and cleared his throat. "With, um, the way you explain it, uh, makes sense..." Caspar expressed. "I was adopted so there's another reason why I felt like a black sheep," He casually added. "But I learned family's what you make of it. So, uh, we're obviously not exactly the same... But, in a way, your situation and my situation is flipped, yeah?" He observed. "I get along better with my family, or whatever, here and it's just not the same with you and I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of, you know? We're like puzzles pieces, we only fit in where we fit in." He said.

Jordan stole glances up at Caspar as he spoke, not wanting to seem like he was too interested in what the other boy was saying, though he was. He wiggled the stick into the ground and let go of it, leaning his hands back on the log as he gave Caspar a small smile. "Hard to think of you as the black anything," he quipped quietly, but let him continue. He twisted his finger around a piece of hair as he nodded at his friend, then looked down at the stick again, afraid that he was looking too long, or that Caspar might look back at him processing how well he could relate to his words. He felt somewhat bare, as though Caspar really was getting to know some part of him, and he didn't know exactly how he felt about it, but he could definitely tell that it wasn't all bad. "Yeah, that makes sense." He felt rather inarticulate after the speech, but didn't mind too much; not everyone could be a poet. "We're mirrors." He smirked a bit. "And that's not to say that I don't care about the people in my cabin. I think... I dunno, they're all my friends. It's just different, yeah." He rolled his neck. "But anyway, enough delving into my inner psyche. What about knowing you? Tell me something I don't know."

Caspar could empathize with the uncertain feeling that came with getting closer with another but, in this setting, he wasn't all that uncomfortable. He smiled at the comment about being mirrors. "Mirrors, I like that," Caspar expressed and then nodded. "And, I get it," He added with reassurance once again. He then chuckled lightly. "—But, wait, did you know my natural hair's a kind of dark brown? You can only see it in old pictures of me. I've been messing with hair colors for a long time though, and I've had tons," He described and then put more thought in regarding his past and a fact he could tell Jordan. "But, uh, let me think of something else," Caspar lightly and contently sighed. "Um, I don't know what's interesting, but I'm allergic to apricots? I believed in fairies when I was a little kid?" He offered up. "Um, sometimes when I first wake up, I think I only see in black and white? The colors come back right away but for a second, I swear." He chuckled again and shrugged.

Jordan pressed his fingers into the log, feeling the grooves as he continued to listen to Caspar. "When'd you start dyeing it?" He felt weird thinking about Caspar with dark hair; and though it was fairly obvious that his natural hair colour wasn't stark white, it felt like it suited his friend more. "Just apricots? How'd you find that one out?" He smiled. "I'm surprised you don't still believe in fairies. They seem like your vibe. And we know that monsters and shit are real, so why not?" The last fact made Jordan's eyebrows shoot up excitedly, and he reached out to rest a hand on his dog's head when he rested his head on his leg. "Does that fit into you seeing auras? Do you dream in colour?"

"I dream in black and white very rarely but, when I'm dreamscaping and in control, I try to make them all as colourful as can be. Although, I'm not sure if the lack of it when I wake is related to the whole aura thing..." Caspar explained to his friend. "It's an interesting concept to think about, it probably is related," He responded while endearingly watching Crinitus show affection to his owner. "I'm not sure exactly when I started with my hair either, uh... Maybe a year before I came to camp?" He thought aloud. "It was bloody impulsive when I chose to change it all, but ended up just sticking with it, so," With a proud little smile, Caspar's train of thought quickly shifted from colors to the next topic he wanted to reply to. "—Oh, by the way, my experience with apricot was only my worst reaction," He casually clarified. "I'll swell up and get hives if I eat certain types of nuts, kiwi, or peaches too. And, actually, a breakfast parfait got me officially diagnosed," He explained with a small shrug and pressed his palms down onto the log as well. He looked up at the stars now and leaned back slightly to do so. "Also, I think there's a part of me that still might believe in fairies, if I'm being fully transparent. There are stranger things in our lives, I agree..." Caspar then hesitated for a moment but eventually spoke again yet softer this time. "If you get tired, will you tell me?" He asked.

"I think it'd be kinda fucked up to dream in black and white. But, I guess I could do that and just not really remember. Colours aren't what I remember from my dreams. It's cool if it is connected to your aura thing. Kind of hard to see if it does though, I imagine that's hard as fuck to research." He glanced at Caspar once more. "I like the white. I think it suits you. Like a blank canvas." After a pause, he added, "or some shit" to sound less like he was waxing poetic. "A breakfast parfait?" Jordan asked incredulously, laughing. "Dude, you're telling me yogurt almost had you kick the bucket? Incredible. I would love for that to be listed as my cause of death, honestly." He nodded in agreement to the sentiment that there were things much stranger than fairies. "I dunno, why can't people with wings exist if I can just be..." He motioned indistinctly to the woods but didn't actually teleport, far too comfortable to. After Caspar spoke, he exhaled a small laugh, smiling at his friend. "I'm always tired." He didn't look away, instead resting his cheek against his own shoulder. "But yeah, I will. Same for you?"

"There's certain books on auras and such but it's hard to sift through what's real and what's just been guessed by the author," Caspar summarized but then readily blushed upon hearing Jordan's compliment regarding his bleached white hair. He tried hard not to react any further and let the conversation continue. "Crikey, not the actual yogurt," He chuckled, shaking his head but finding his friend very amusing. "Just the nuts and fruit and stuff," He clarified but was smiling nonetheless (especially as he watched Jordan rest his cheek against his own shoulder). "I'm always tired too," Caspar agreed and scooted closer to Jordan. "We can go lay down soon?" He suggested and had realized that he was probably done with snacking on s'mores for tonight anyways. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands. "You can also use my shoulder instead if you want, until then? I don't mind..." Caspar gently offered as the untended fire seemed to not be as bright as it once had.

"Yeah, I guess it's hard to do hard research on shit like that. Like dream interpretation. Not like there's a lot of hard science in what I do," Jordan said with a shrug of the shoulder he wasn't leaning on. "I'm gonna keep saying yogurt, I think, sounds funnier." He grinned impishly at his friend, then picked up the s'more resting on his knee to toss into the fire so that his dog wouldn't end up eating it. At Caspar's suggestion, he picked at a thread in his jeans, then scooted slightly closer, trying not to move too much as to not disturb a half-asleep Crinitus. "If you want, I can snuff out the fire, and then we can watch the stars like we planned to." He tipped his head to the side and rested against Caspar's shoulder, looking out at the woods. "And if you want, we can form a chain here. Since I'm on you and Crinitus is on me, you can get a dog pillow," he joked with a small smile.

"You need a Teleportation 101 class," Caspar snickered to himself at his silly little joke. He then playfully rolled his eyes at Jordan after hearing his comment regarding the yogurt. His expression was somehow still soft even as he rolled his eyes. He felt good in the moment his friend rested their head on his shoulder but, then again it always felt this way being there for someone. He tried to maneuver himself to get a look at a sleeping Crinitus by Jordan's feet and was pleased by the sight. "That's probably how it's going to be in the tent tonight..." He responded. "A cuddle pile, if you will," He commented "...And, I do still want to look at the stars, but we can do that whenever you're ready to put out the fire. I can wait, but I don't want us to get too tired beforehand." He explained.

"Hey." Despite trying to sound annoyed, Jordan's tone was much more amused than anything. "I'm at least in the 200s level, cut me some slack." He raised his head as Caspar moved, as well as to look at the fire. "Are you someone who just latches on to the nearest thing when you sleep? Or are you a starfish?" He raised his arms and cracked his knuckles, then wiggled his fingers in front of him, muttering a low incantation. Crinitus lifted his head to watch as the fire smoldered and went out, leaving a trail of smoke curling into the sky. "Alright, boy with white hair, tell me which planets are making me sad."

"Sorry, sorry," Caspar apologized for the silly '101' comment and bashfully ducked his head especially while Jordan raised his up once again. "I am usually one who clings to whatever's near," He smiled. "So if that makes me a starfish?" He rubbed his knees with his palms and then slightly shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I am one, watch out for my tube feet," He joked with a tone of voice where it was clear he was already becoming tired. Caspar wiggled his fingers along with Jordan in reference to their past conversation but eventually dropped his hands again. He shifted his eyes up to the stars in the night sky. He was smiling more-so now at the little nickname. "-Hm, well, you're an Aries, right? That means Mars rules you, it represents the beginning of all beginnings... It is our first breath and our first scream, being the one responsible for the body we have and the, um, incarnation we are in at the moment..." Caspar looked back at Jordan to make sure he really wanted to know this kind of stuff. "Uh, it's associated with karma and instinct, but I think it's really just an unconscious animalistic nature we don’t give enough freedom to..." He cleared his throat and quickly looked back at the stars. "I'd have to know more of your birth chart to tell you more."

Jordan laughed at the tube-feet comment and wiggled his fingers back at Caspar. “Oh my god.” He shook his head and looked up at the sky as his friend began describing what his sign meant, eyes flicking back to him after a moment. “First breath and first scream? Dude, that’s metal as fuck.” He laughed. “Animalistic nature. Dunno if that’s my deal, but the sound of it is cool.” He pressed his palms into the log and looked back to the sky. “Kendall knows my birth chart. Made me literally call my mom and find out what time I was born.”

"Oh... Yeah, I guess it is," Caspar chuckled a little embarrassed by how he had explained Aries energy. "But I meant more like, uh... Acting on impulse and doing what you want without abandon, not, um, running through the woods on your hands and knees or something silly," His palms had already been pressed down onto the log as well and he stole a quick glance of Jordan here and there as they sat and watched the stars. "That's what I would've had you done too," He smiled softly. "I can probably reach out to her to get a look at it? So I can tell you more of my, uh, interpretations?" Caspar suggested. "Unless you feel like she's covered it all with you already. If so, that's okay too..." He covered his bases in his reply then yawned but remained stargazing.

Jordan laughed at the idea of them running around the woods on all fours and moved so that he was resting on his elbows instead of his hands, more reclined as he watched the sky through the trees. “Yeah, you’ll have to find her for that. I don’t really remember any of it. I think she mentioned pretty much every sign at some point, and I don’t really prescribe to Greek zodiac and myth too much, so I didn’t retain much.” He looked at Caspar. “It’d be cool to get your take on it, though. But what made you so into Greek constellations when you were born in a place where you didn’t even see them? Unless you only started studying them here.”

"Okay, yeah, that's perfect. I'm excited to get a look at your chart," Caspar confessed and happily continued on in response. "I'll try and make it exciting for you to learn about," He explained with assurance and then shrugged because he wasn't sure of how to answer to the question that had been asked. "...Oh, uh, hmm,I guess that I was into them because I knew I was a demigod since I was young? I always have been in love with the stars too. Greek constellations came easier to me and I had already learned all the ones down in the southern hemisphere," He shrugged. "The cosmos are a constant in my life."

Jordan exhaled something that could be interpreted as a laugh. “Learning is always exciting.” He was serious about the sentiment; not entirely sure that the subject was up his alley, but willing to hear Caspar out. “Oh,” he said as he tilted his head to look at his friend. “Fuck, forgot some people just knew that shit. I didn’t know until I got here, and I was still pretty sure I was making the whole thing up or something.” He shrugged one shoulder and looked back up at the sky, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned. “That’s fucking sick. To be into something all the way from when you were young.” He let out a small “oof” as his dog put his head down on his stomach, and reached down to pat him as he yawned again. “Maybe... bedtime soon. But you can keep telling me about the sky. I promise I’m still listening.” The words seemed too sincere to leave it there, so he continued. “Maybe just slow down if you hear snoring.”

"I like that about you. You have an open-mind," Caspar complimented and sent a tired little smile over Jordan's way through the firelight. "Imagine all those feelings, but not being able to do anything about them. I couldn't get away from my family until I just turned sixteen? But I knew I was destined to come here as soon as I heard about camp... And, it wasn't getting safe in Aussieland, so, it was defo complicated all around," He shrugged as he explained a little bit more about his past and, maybe only because Jordan did, but Caspar yawned as well. He nodded before he could speak. "Yeah... I think that's a good idea. We can go lay down right now?" He stood and rubbed his eye.

Jordan exhaled a small laugh at Caspar’s observational compliment. He could his friend smiling at him from the corner of his eye, but kept his gaze trained upwards as he listened to him continue to speak. “I... can imagine.” His own perspective was much different, but he didn’t offer it, since it felt less like relating to Caspar and more like telling his own story. He finally tilted his head to the side to look back at Caspar and gave him a small smile as well. “It’s nice you had somewhere to escape to.” He followed his friend, pushing his dog’s head from his stomach so that he could stand as well, and stepped far enough back so that he felt comfortable enough to extinguish the fire. As he pressed his hands together and mumbled, it glowed bright for a moment, then smoldered, and Jordan picked up a water bottle to toss over it and put it out fully. He yawned and stretched, his back cracking as he did, and nodded at Caspar. “Crinitus doesn’t normally get to sleep with people, so he’s gonna fuckin' flip.”

Caspar moved away from the fire as well and, for the most part, let Jordan handle extinguishing the flames. He watched with tired eyes and, when it was fully out, turned to go over to the tent. "Awe, I'm glad then," He responded and the thought of falling asleep with a dog instead of several white cats made him chuckle lightly. He unzipped the entrance and climbed inside. He got all comfortable and knowing that he was going to get to dream only seemed to make him feel more tired. "Hm... I think..." He mused and, even though he had only gotten horizontal moments before, his eyes were heavy. "That today was a good day...." He managed to say before closing his eyes. For a little bit longer, he tried responding but it mostly came out as non-verbal little hums. After seemingly falling asleep, it only took a few moments before Caspar naturally nudged closer. Along with Crinitus, they cuddled up to Jordan in a warm little pile and that night Caspar dreamed of tide pools.

[bytheangell]

This is the Coda that Never Ends... Part 10

(read on AO3) (read from the beginning) 

Clarissa has no idea what she’s doing in this part of town. She hasn’t stopped wandering the streets ever since Maia kicked her out of the… whatever that place was. It didn’t have a name on the outside and she knew it wasn’t the Jade Wolf anymore, but she doesn’t know what it’s turning into. Another restaurant, that much was obvious to Clarissa from her short time inside. She hadn’t even bothered to ask the girl who was nice enough to let her stay despite the fact that she knows how crazy she sounded showing up out of the blue like that. 

Clarissa imagines she’ll find out when it opens, because there’s not a chance in hell she’s going back there any time soon. Probably not even once it opens, because how can she show her face around Maia after whatever that was? 

The symbol she drew seems burned onto her brain, and it isn’t the only one. What does it mean? Where did it come from? Was it offensive, and that’s why Maia reacted the way she had? Clarissa thinks she should know but it’s all just out of reach and her head starts to ache every time she thinks about it for more than a few seconds. It’s probably a blessing in disguise that Maia kicked her out because the longer she stared at the thing she painted the stronger the dull throbbing behind her temples grew. 

She feels a little better now, the air cool against her skin. She runs her fingers through her hair  to get out some dried-up chips of paint while she walks. She started walking just to distance herself at first but it quickly becomes apparent that she isn’t walking back towards school, or her dorm. When she passes by all of her usual food or coffee stops a part of her registers that she doesn’t know where she’s going, she’s just walking. 

...except that isn’t quite true, is it? This doesn’t feel like aimless wandering and that scares her even more than the idea of getting herself properly lost in the city, because while nothing in this area looks familiar to her it all feels familiar. 

The sound of her phone ringing shakes her from her thoughts. It’s Rebecca, her roommate, and she almost doesn’t answer it; the only reason she does is so Rebecca doesn’t get worried and send out a search party for her or something. 

“What’s up?” Clarissa asks, feet continuing to carry her forward. As she walks she’s positive she sees a guy and a girl with tattoos just like the guy from the art show - Jace, she remembers. Just like Jace’s tattoos. She feels the ache begin in her temples again and ignores it. “Actually, I’m glad you called. Remember the guy from the show last night?” 

She hears Rebecca try not to laugh. “You mean your imaginary biker boy?” 

“He’s real,” Clary states with conviction. Is she trying to convince herself, or Rebecca? She chased the guy outside, found out (or more like remembered) his name, and then he was gone. Except not a single other person at the show remembers seeing him; even the people who tried to stop her as she ran out of the building because she looked upset claimed they just saw her running out alone. “He was there. I touched his tattoo.” 

“I’m just saying,” Rebecca says conversationally, her words drawn out as forgets for a moment that she’s the one who called to say something, not the other way around. “If there was a guy there matching that description, I’d remember.” Clarissa can hear her roommate sigh, no doubt conjuring the mental image of her description of Jace and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, why are you asking?” 

“I could’ve sworn I just saw two people with the same tattoos he had. What if they’re in some sort of secret organization? Or a gang?” 

“That’d be hot,” Rebecca says without missing a beat, and Clary rolls her eyes again. “Anyway, enough about him. I have the best news, ’Rissa! You’re never going to guess!” There’s an almost palpable excitement in the girl’s tone that sounds through the phone. 

“Tell me you finally got the nerve to ask Jessie out and she said yes,” Clarissa guesses, deciding to embrace the distraction of her roommate’s call rather than fixating on what has to be a coincidence with the thick black tattoos.  

“What?! Absolutely not! She came by the exhibition last night and I barely managed to remember the word ‘thanks’ when she complimented my watercolor. And you think I can string an entire sentence together?” The voice over the phone concludes with a laugh. 

“Welp, I’m out of guesses then. What is it?” Clarissa asks, half-listening to her roommate and half-focused on the fact that the area around her is getting real sketchy, real fast. 

“Someone just bought all of you artwork.” 

Clarissa stops walking. “You’re joking.” 

“Why would I joke about that?! The sale was huge, easily the biggest we’ve made all year from any of the exhibitions, let alone one artist. Congratulations!!” Clarissa listens for any sign of jealousy, or a hint that this is just a prank to get her hopes up. But Rebecca isn’t like that and she has no reason to start now.

“All of them?” Clarissa repeats, incredulous. Her steps slow as she walks, trying to process that. “Who was it?” 

Rebecca makes a noncommittal noise over the phone. “Anonymous purchase. Left you a nice note, though. I’ll bring it back to the room so you don’t have to come by the gallery’s office for it.” 

“Thanks,” Clarissa says, the word sounding breathless. This changes everything. All of her concerns over getting a place after graduation when her scholarship ran out were solved in one fell swoop, at least for the first few months. It’s a better start than she hoped for previously, putting serious consideration into budgeting just how long through the summer months she could stretch food money if she didn’t mind sofa surfing around a few friends’ apartments. 

She stops walking then, not because of the news she just heard, but because she’s here. 

Here, it seems, is an abandoned church on Deighton. The windows are cracked, vines creep up the sides of the building nearly to the top of the tallest points, and broken stairs lead up to a set of doors. Everything around her is overgrown, as if it hadn't been tended to in months, years probably. 

“Hey, I have to go,” she says suddenly. “I’ll see you back in the room later, you can fill me in on the mystery buyer then.” She doesn’t wait for a reply before hanging up and slipping her cell phone into her pocket. 

This is fine. It’s the middle of the day so there’s some light despite the cloudy sky, the only small comfort she seems to find. The street is inexplicably empty of any passersby, she realizes, as if people are intentionally avoiding it. Maybe they are, considering the vague sense of being watched she feels despite the lack of eyes around her. Looking straight up she stares at a window, one that’s empty and shadowed.

She feels like she’s been here before. 

She feels like she’s meant to be here now. 

That feeling drives her forward, taking several steps toward the decrepit building with a renewed sense of determination, only to pause at the foot of the stairs. This is insane. What if this is some sort of meth house? What if she walks in on a drug deal with armed gang members or something? Suddenly the dull ache from before pings across her forehead in a sting of discomfort which lingers this time, making it difficult to focus. 

She turns and takes a few steps back, pauses, and begins pacing back and forth in front of the building. Every last rational thought in her mind begs her to turn and walk away before something goes wrong, like with Maia today or when she tried to talk to Jace the night before. So far her instincts have brought her nothing but trouble, and to walk into this place alone will certainly be the height of her poor life choices. 

She stares up at the building again but for a moment she doesn’t see a neglected and a damaged facade: for a moment she sees an impressive structure with shining stained glass windows. She sees two people walk past her who definitely were not there a moment ago, walking straight through the now-open doors doors, and for a second she catches a glimpse of a long, bright hallway. And then just as quickly it’s gone, the doors shut again, the cracks and vines and worn down stone in place in front of her. 

“What the…” she mutters, blinking a few times in shock. She saw that. She definitely saw that. She can already hear Rebecca calling her crazy again when she goes back to their room and tells her about this… but maybe not if she has proof this time. Her head is throbbing now but she resolutely ignores it in her newfound determination, pulling her phone out to get a photo this time. 

Clarissa walks towards the stairs again, up one and then another, before that brief flicker of another building creeps into the edges of her vision, just out of sight. It’s as if it’s lurking in her periphery, gone every time she turns to look. But she tries anyway, focusing in on it, staring not at what she can see but what she feels as if she should see… 

The dull aching in her head quickly turns into a steady pounding of her pulse behind her temples, so loud it’s almost deafening. A second later her head is in her hands and she’s doubled over, vision swimming. 

She thinks she feels a hand on her shoulder but she can’t be certain before her vision stops spinning and fades to black entirely, consumed by the dark relief of unconsciousness.

[zoidham]

F!!RE - Devoted to Black Fashion & Lifestyle

ARTicle One:

Introduction. 

On Black Masculinity in Fashion

“Masculinity is not measured by your bicep size or sexual prowess but is a quality that is characterized by being affectionate, sincere, and responsible.” - Juwanza Kunjufu 

Hey Now kinfolk, I am Zoid Hæm, and in these personal letters I will be reflecting on the Black Lifestyle as it pertains to #Fashion, #Soul, and #Art. I have chosen the name F!!RE for this experience to pay homage to the young black artists of the Harlem Renaissance who shocked the world with a scathing peek into the mind of young and free black folks with their one issue magazine simply called Fire!!.(Source): https://bit.ly/2GwIIY0

Blackness, in its constant evolution is of my greatest interest, for as Arthur Jafa (@anamibia) said in his interview for I-D magazine with Virgil Abloh “…blackness isn’t just relevant to black people. It’s an ontological formation thats seeking to understand the world. It’s about the possibility for a different way to occupy earth, to exist in it. (Source): https://bit.ly/2m3ygzn

So here I sit at this cross section of fashion and soul, asking myself what does my external experience tell me about my inner world? And since the former spews out of the latter I see a fluid evolution spiraling up, beckoning at the fringe of our reality like an avant-garde symbol, hated and misunderstood like all mysteries shrouded in blackness. Excitement billows out of me, as my existence becomes a thorough definition of the contradictions in my black consciousness; like vines, unconfined by the square bricks of this society, I sprawl out, creating branches, bridges, and underground railroads, breaking out of learned labels and ushering a new wave. A wave filled with bubbles that when they touch, combine and crash on this countries shores of Thought, making us all the more unique and free.

“Cultivate your Uniqueness.” 

Free Hugs and Painted Nails:

Today's letter focuses in on black masculinity through the lens of fashion. It must have been the summer of 2011 when I sported boastful yet crude painted nails, and a small white button that said “Free Hugs". My body type was bulky, aggressive, and shouted, “Angry black man!" I had just finished my career in football, thankfully, and found myself hustling in the streets of New York City, as green as a rose stem among the grey concrete jungle, who's edifices and faces made me feel small, innocent, and utterly naive. 

Yet in this place I began to shift my image, first my thoughts, by asking any and all types why they are who they are. Mind you as the son of two preachers who never went to a house party or drank till college, even with my years at university there was still so much I didn’t know; but what I found is that when I approached folk they were always very guarded and unsure. I always blamed racist propaganda for their hesitancy but then I began to think more about what my image was saying to them. To them and this society my look gave off certain triggers in them, and by them I mean all types from old, young, white, black, brown, men, women, LGBTQ, CEO, or homeless. Few if any paid me any mind, or quickly gave glance and turned the other way. 

Haha a hilarious anecdote that actually made me change my entire “costume” was that one day, walking out by Central Park I saw the actor Michael Cera! Yep, Mr. Superbad himself, I was such a big fan I blurted out as we came close to each other “Holy crap! It’s Michael Cera!” Haha and true to form, with a hilarious face and mannerisms he looked up, eyes widened, and immediately turned around, and scampered the opposite direction down the street. I was a little hurt and shocked, but still laughed. It was at this point I was like YO! What do they see?

I went home, a 6 floor walk up in Chinatown, and looked in the mirror and began to take some notes. Broad chest, big beard, long locs, rather run-of-the-mill black man, how boring! I knew inside me was something that defied all definition, that I was a spirit teeming with affection and love for my fellow humans and wanted to be able to sit and express with them. But what I typically was receiving was the energy of dismissal and guardedness. I had known this well from black women at university who used me as a whipping boy to take their frustrations out on all black men, while I received, in screaming opposition from white women, so much attention it felt disingenuous, for them any n!gga would do; but now this was pervasive… I realized that my presence scared people, and that they weren’t actually seeing the REAL me.

I paced in my small apartment unit, thumbing a small button in the jacket I just bought, mentally drawing up how I wanted to present myself. “Alright first we need to lose this weight, so we can fit into all these cool clothes, but also fit better in these rooms of artists and intellects, and then lets keep the beard and hair nappy, edge is important, but lets dress in chic cheap fashion, cuz we are super broke and are only going to be able to afford the thrift store…” As I was thinking I pulled out the button from my pocket and read what it said “Free Hugs” almost unconsciously I pinned it to my jacket and didn’t think much of it.

The next day was Friday and I typically made my way to the museums since they were free. I bought a bottle of FireFly ice tea vodka and headed to my friends pad down by wall street so we all could get faded and go see some art. As I was walking down the street, I saw faces smiling at me, and so I smiled back, not used to New Yorkers showing any emotion besides anger I was a little surprised but kept pushing. After hopping off the train, I turned the corner and a short portly jewish women threw  her arms up and said “Yes I need one today!” And gave me a big long hug. I just stood there shocked by this stranger squeezing me, like I was her grandson, but before the hug was over I retuned the energy. She smiled and walked on by. As she left I looked at my reflection in one of the wall street buildings and saw that I still had the “Free Hugs” button on my jacket, and smiled thinking, how bout that! A free hug trumps propaganda, age, fear, race, etc.  all they needed was the permission to show affection. 

Fast foward to half the bottle gone, and a small loft full of young, gifted and black artist, all dancing and singing to a Stevie Wonder record. I had painted a haggard green sweat shirt with the word Free Hugs in big red letters and donned it as I joined the harmonious voices that filled the room with the joy of a Friday afternoon. I went over to the kitchen to fill my glass, when I realized I had gotten some paint on my nails, and began to peel it off when my crush at that time, a stunning orange afro having queen said, "Naw leave it! In fact here!” She came over with some nail polish and painted quick little designs on my nails in green, red, and yellow. My first reaction was wait I can’t wear nail polish, but when I looked at my hands I became enamored, my how strange and unique, these dainty hands on a Rasta brute! This was just the right amount of contradiction and juxtaposition of strength and vulnerability I was looking for. Leave it to black women to bring a dream to reality.

And thats exactly what happened, when we hit the streets in that Friday sunset, New York finally saw me, and opened like the flowers in sunlight on the corner of Strawberry Fields. Over the next few months, my body slimmed, my smile grew, my nails where chipped and covered with color haphazardly, and hugs clung to my body like the tight fitting cheap fashion I found. But most importantly my thoughts began to change, because I was engaging with more people from all walks of life. I ask myself to this day, did the fashion open them up or me up? 

Fashion is metaphor touted as a mask, there to conceal or reveal our inner truth, and for me I found a unique edge to walk, one where I hold space with masculinity that only knows mixtape lyrics and football, as well as a space that spoke of Basquiat’s and Warhol’s, the fickleness of love in any gender or sexuality and the need for soul and romance. I am still the minority in most rooms I walk into, typically they don't know what to think of me, I hear little conversations in the corner, ”He must be gay, or bi, no no look he’s with ball players and gangsters, naw naw he has lots of girlfriends, yes yes hunny he can get it, but he curbed all of us and I’m fine so wats the deal, oh he’s different.”

Different… little do they know I’m just like them, expressing all that I am. Removing the labels and images and thoughts that society has forced upon me, left me blank a slate to be creative. Still I have much more to remove and redefine in this ocean of blackness that is my being. One can be masculine in a dress, one can be feminine in baggy jeans, lessen we forget #STONEWALL and what those activists fought for, the freedom of image. Culturally and generational things shift, the meaning we put behind garments and fabric is all made up, just like us; and no one need be ridiculed or shamed for making their fit…fit. So what are you wearing today? In any way, you look good on you.

Posivibes,

hæm

Credits:

Image one by @johnyu.co 

for Westword Artopia 2019  

[feotakahari]

The Void and the Shadow: The Savior

Looks like I missed posting this part on Tumblr. Remedying that.

When I first met the Savior, I was standing in a high school chemistry lab, holding a bottle of hydrochloric acid and debating whether to throw it. “Stay back!” I shouted. I didn’t know if zombies could understand English. But I didn’t think zombies could open doors, either. Then three of them had opened up the door to the chem lab and shambled on in. I’d never heard of zombies walking out of inky black portals, either. Or zombies wearing faded white . . . jumpsuits? Were those jumpsuits? And their eyes were inhumanly large, crisscrossed with black veins.. Maybe they were zombie aliens. Zaliens. Also, I’d never seen zombies on my high school campus, rather than safely comfined to a movie screen. So forgive me if my memories are a bit disjointed. I was doing my very best not to freak out. “Just throw it already!” someone shouted from behind me. I wasn’t sure who. I sloshed the liquid out of the bottle, but I wasn’t close enough, and it splashed one zombie across the chest instead of the face. Fun fact: acid doesn’t do much to zombies. Just as I was mentally preparing myself for an ineffectual last stand, the door opened, and a black blur shot through. All I remember is the ringing of metal. By the time everything slowed down enough for me to process it, all of the zombies were on the floor, and the intruder was bringing a metal baseball bat down on one’s skull, over and over until it stopped moving. I’d seen her in a few of my AP classes. She was a little shorter than me, but pretty muscular. (Had to be, the way she swung that bat.) I couldn’t place her ancestry--black? Native? Maybe part Asian? She was wearing long black sleeves in the summer, and, incongruously, a black knitted wool cap with cute little kitty ears sticking out of it. “Come with me,” she said, not at all winded by what she’d just done. “We’re fortifying the gym. We’ll be--” She looked up at me, and she froze. I’ll save my self-description for later. Just think of me as an involved bystander for now. But one thing I do want to make clear--every time the Savior saw me in those early days, there was a second before her face went carefully neutral. In that second, she gave me a look of hatred and revulsion unlike anything I’d seen before. She looked past me to the others gathered in the chem lab. “Well, come on!” “Who . . .” I managed. His name was Lewis Bell, but neither of us knew that yet, or even knew that he was a he. We didn’t know he was the Savior yet, either. So in order to keep things straight (hah!), I’ll start this off with what I wrongly knew--a teenage girl with a kitty hat and a baseball bat. “I’m Allie,” she said. “Now let’s get going, before more of these things come.” The Survivor When I met the woman I love, I was wrapped in vines, struggling to find a way free. They weren't real vines, not exactly. I could sort of see them and see past them at the same time, not like they were transparent, but like they weren't there. And they didn't come from the ground, but from holes in one of the big-eyed creatures' jumpsuits. This one looked a lot more awake and aware than the rest. It held our group in place, while the slack-jawed zombies prepared to tear us apart. Allie was biting frantically at a vine with her teeth. I was trying to calmly think my way out of this, but everything I came up with involved the chemistry lab, and there was no way for me to get back there now. I wish I could say I thought up a clever plan to defeat the monster. What actually happened was that a portal opened behind it, and someone I’d never seen before hit it in the head with an enormous warhammer. Allie was out and fighting as soon as the vines vanished. I hit the ground with a thud, but I got to my feet pretty quickly. I saw a zombie on top of one of the other survivors, and I tackled it off, punching it in the face over and over. I’m not as strong as Allie or the newcomer, and I didn’t think to go for the eyes. I was still punching it by the time the newcomer came over to finish it off. As soon as I pulled my hands away, she fragmented its skull with her warhammer. She looked kind of like Allie, actually. Same skin tone and general facial structure, though much taller--shockingly so. Deep blue hair, with just a hint of green. (Somehow, I suspected it wasn’t dyed.) Black robes, tattered and repeatedly patched. She definitely wasn’t from around here. Anyone injured? she asked. I didn’t hear her say those words. It was like I skipped from not hearing her to knowing she had just said something, with no time in between. I couldn’t tell you exactly what words she used, either. It was more like fragmented concepts--the concept of our group, and the concept of injury, with a question attached. “Not that I don’t appreciate the save,” Allie said, “but can you tell us what’s going on?” Soon, she said, pulling a bottle of green fluid and a strip of white cloth from somewhere in her robes. She cleaned and bound the worst of the bite marks on one of the survivors, and when she was done, she looked at Allie. I’m Tuwotahl of the Seventh Legion. We search for the Savior. An image entered my mind. It was a woman, similar-looking to Allie and Tuwotahl. She was wearing black robes with the hood up, but I could see that her hair was blue. She was holding a sort of jagged shard, blacker than black. Allie pulled her hat off, introducing us all to the Fro of Doom. It spilled every which way, uncontrolled and untamable. It was black, not blue. “You’ve got the wrong number here,” Allie said as she put her hat back on. Perhaps you’re not the Savior yet. The Saint The Shadow hunts us. Where is safe? Tuwotahl asked. She sent an image of high walls, with blue-haired women at the top, aiming bows down at the land below them. Evidently, there were castles wherever she came from. “An army base, maybe?” Allie thought out loud. “I’m not sure if there’s one nearby . . . Any other ideas?” “I have one,” I said. I pictured an old brick fort, long since abandoned by its original inhabitants. Trees surrounded it, covering at least a half-hour drive in every direction, with only one road connecting it to the outside world. I tried to push the image out of my mind, towards the stranger. If she could show me pictures, maybe I could show her pictures, too. You send! Tuwotahl exclaimed. Blurry. No practice? Of course not. You speak sounds. She looked me up and down. Good first try. “What just happened?” Allie asked. Nobody answered. Tuwotahl pulled something out of her robe. Jagged, darker than dark . . . the same shard(?) from her vision. She pressed it into my hand. It felt cold and hard, like a piece of obsidian. Think of the place, she told me. Sight. Sound. Smell. Anything you have. I thought, and to my amazement, one of the black portals appeared between us. Hurry, she said, pulling Allie by the shoulder. For lack of a better idea, the rest of us followed. As soon as she were through, she grabbed the shard from me, and the portal closed again. A few of my friends were out front in the vegetable garden. They stared in amazement at the motley group that had popped out of nowhere. It’s time to describe myself. My name is Shannon Hayes, and at the time of the first attacks, I was a sixteen-year-old girl. I’m short, but wider at the stomach than I’d prefer. (I hike, garden, and get all sorts of exercise, but that’s just how I’m built.) I’m pink from frequent sunlight, with brown hair and eyes. You wouldn’t look at me twice if you saw me on the street, save for the simple brown robes I wear, a striking anachronism in the days of jeans and T-shirts. The same brown robes worn by everyone else who lives in that fort. “Welcome to the Church of the Branches,” I said. “Be at peace, and enjoy your stay.”

[rosyredlipstick]

Hi! I love your aphrodite cabin fics. Could write something about one of the aphrodite boys and an ares boy?

As I just mentioned Stefan noticing how an Ares guy waschecking him out, I’m gonna assume that’s who you want ;)

Hope you enjoy! Just a quick drabble that’s unedited and was wrote in an hour ENJOY MY SPELLING MISTAKES.

Piece of Data - Drabble. 

-

Stefan was a distraction.

Both in the sense of because of his absolutely entrancing beauty(his own words) and, well, in the technical sense.

He liked the focus on the first part, okay?

He was bait, he absolutely knew. Mitchell was in a treesomewhere, knocking out the blue team as they edged towards their flag, andScarlett and Drew, along with a few Hermes girls, were on guard duty – probablya mile away.

Mitchell had at least winced when he gave out Stefan’sposition, an apologetic look on his face.

An Ares kid wouldn’t be able to refuse a fight, especially fromsomeone who was doomed to lose from the beginning. They’d – hopefully – be distractedenough with Stefan to not notice when Sebastian and a few Apollo kids snuck by.They had used this strategy before, and the last person to have this job was inthe infirmary for days, but it worked and they were desperate for a win.

He took a breath, his position under the guise of guarding a‘secret’ entrance (with poorly thrown vines covering the small cave to nowherethat would hopefully act as another distraction), and allowed himself to notfocus on the amount of concealer he was going to have to buy to leave thecabin.

Stefan was resting against the side of the cave, running hisfinger around the detail in the handle of his blade, when he heard the tell-talestomping across the dirt, heavy-footed and heading straight his way.

He stood straighter, his sword coming up, already knowing –Ares kids were the only campers whowalked that way, and Stefan was in the wide-open.

He wasn’t any good with a sword, not like Mitchell was withhis bow, or Drew was with her knives. He was average, able to beat maybe Sophiaon a bad day but never a match forLacey.

And he definitely wasn’ta match for an Ares kid.

But he was anything, he was stubborn, and he wasn’t goingdown without a fight, however terribly fought.

Maybe if he got a few bruises Mitchell would feel bad enoughto persuade Connor into sneaking in a pizza like when Lacey broke her ankle.That’d be nice, at least.

The camper – tall, clearly male but hidden behind distanceand the gold cover of his mask – emerged from the side, coming to a slight stopas he noticed Stefan in the clearing. The gray Ares symbol was stark againstthe honey armor, a threat and a promise in the image.  

He was big, that was obvious even without the bronze armorcovering his impressive biceps and wide shoulders. He took a few steps closerto Stefan, a moment of hesitation crossing before he pulled out his sword.

Stefan dug his heels into the dirt, a determined lineangling across his face. The kid looked to be alone, but Athena and Ares hadteamed up for this game so trusting his eyes was out of the question.

“You’re not going past here.” Stefan told him, keeping hishands steady on the cool metal.

The guy took a step forward, his sword swinging with hisstep. “Why they’d put you out here? On your own?”

His voice seemed to be filled with light concern. Unsure ifit was mocking, Stefan scowled instead.

“I don’t need anyone out here.” Stefan lifted his sword overhis shoulder, ready for when the other guy would inevitably attack. Vaguely, hethought of pizza.

The guy paused, his face still hidden under his goldenhelmet. “You’re bait, aren’t you?” He glanced around, apparently looking forwhatever Stefan was hiding. Desperately, he hoped his teammates weren’t stupidenough to run right away.

Stefan huffed out a breath, a little offended. I mean, justbecause it was true doesn’t mean thisAres jerk could say it.

“Are we going to fight, or what?” Stefan asked, less urge toactually fight, more urge to swing his blade at the other guy and maybe denthis armor up a bit.

The Ares jerk was interrupted by the snap of a twig, apparentlysignificant enough to make his whole body freeze up. Stefan resisted the urgeto reach out and pet the other guy’s tensed muscles – they were actually prettyspectacular.

The guy snapped out of his brief shock, spinning around tostare into the forest, leaving his back exposed which was…unheard of, with Areskids.

Whatever the guy saw had him turning back to Stefan, anervous line making up his shoulders.

Damn, did this guy have nice shoulders.

Stefan was weak, okay?

The guy glanced behind him, a nervous motion, and took astep back. “Go.”

Stefan paused, his nervous hands tightening around hisblade. “What?”

The guy waved his hands to the side, still staring behindhim. “Go! Before Quinn and Astrid get here.”

Despite what Scarlett had been drilling into him since hisfirst Capture the Flag, his defense dropped at that, and his stared up at theother boy with a look of confusion. “What are you talking around?”

The guy huffed out a breath, and Stefan had the suddenlydesire to know who he was actually talking to under the armor. “Just go,Stefan!” His words sounded like they were being demanded through gritted teeth,“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay? Go!”

Stefan blinked a few times, and it wasn’t until the guyreached forward and pushed him back that he finally came to his senses. Anotherpair of stomping feet was suddenly audible, and while Stefan could brave thepunch of a single demi-god, three on one? No one would blame him for running (exceptDrew, but she would blame him on the rain if she could figure out how).

He stumbled back, finally realizing, and shot off before hecould think to utter out a thank you or question.

The plan fell apart anyways – Sebastian twisted his ankleand Hina and Kayla got captured before they could use the distraction. Blueteam won, and it was enough for them to agree to try the plan again next week.

Stefan ignored the worried glance Mitchell shot him as hevolunteered as bait.

-

Stefan was actually really into science.

Always had been – his dad was always off at work and hiscollege-age babysitter clearly had no reference for children age material andwould therefore simply read her class textbooks for him as a bedtime story.

They always worked to put him to sleep, that’s for sure.

But when he was ten – before everything with his familyhappened and he was forced to run off to the vague idea of a camp in New York –the bedtime stories actually became…cool. Maria was long out of college bythen, but didn’t think to trade her reading material for anything moresensible.

So when other kids were reading A Series of Unfortunate Events, and fell asleep to characters of HarryPotter – Stefan was getting chapters of Physics textbooks, and dreamt ofexploding stars and black holes.

And, because of that, Stefan had never had less than A- inany of his science classes.

It’s also why he was so fond of experiments.

And this, right now, this situation was an experiment.

He had his materials – himself, mainly, but also his weaponand armor.

Procedure – go along as closely as possible to last week’sevents, staying alone in the clearing as bait.

His purpose – find out why exactly a son of Ares wouldresist the opportunity to fight – and if he’d do it again.

His hypothesis: As the situation was the same as last week,the son of Ares would come back to the clearing. The result: Unknown, more dataneeded.

Stefan waited there, his finger tapping out a nervouspattern on his handle. He had taken off his helmet long ago, more curious todetermine who the guy was. Anyways, it was within arm’s length and wouldn’ttake more than a moment to put on.

It took a bit longer then last week – perhaps due to theDemeter attack they planned on the West end of forest, but he was back.

It was the same guy, Stefan knew. The mental image of hisstrong shoulders, not even weighted under the heavy armor, had been a frequentmemory of the last week.

The armor added just enough bulk to distort what Stefan knew– he’d been staring that the other cabin all week, desperate to find familiarlines in their bodies, a familiar note in their voices.

The guy walked slowly to him, not even disgusting the facthe was heading straight for Stefan. He hadn’t drawn his blade, not like lasttime, but kept his arms loose at his sides.

The guy sighed as he stood in front of Stefan, and the soundwas almost amused. Weird. “Didn’t you learn from last time you shouldn’t hangout here alone?”

Stefan leaned on his sword, the blade sinking into the softearth a bit. “I can handle myself.”

He hummed, “So that’s why you’re bait right? And where’syour helmet?”

“I don’t want hat hair.” Stefan told him, angling up hischin like he’d seen Drew do.

Something like laughter shook the guy’s shoulders and Stefansuddenly so suddenly wanted to know who it was. “Aphrodite kids, of course.Shoulda known.”

He had a slight southern accent to his words. Stefan fiercelywished he had paid more attention to when the Ares and Aphrodite kids wouldmeet up,  wish he knew more than justtheir names and ass shape.

He added the fact of the accent to his data, continuing on.

“I’d say the same about you except…” Stefan grinned, and heknew how it made him look. He let off a bit of his allure – not much, they werepublic after all – and said, “You didn’t fight me. What was that about?”

He shrugged, drawing even more attention to his shoulders which, um, fuck. “I like you.” He said, matter-of-fact. Stefan’s cheeks, embarrassingly,heated up at the frank sentence. “I’m not gonna fight you if I like you.” Hecocked his head to the side, his voice curious. “Is that why your cabin put youhere?”

Stefan opened his mouth to deny the fact except, um, didthey?

They were all forced to watch Mitchell moon-eye over Connorlast summer, each sworn to stay out of each other love lives. They would neverdirectly intervene, no, but this was the kind of subtle motions his cabin wasfluent in.

Stefan paused. Didthey?

Before he could answer – thankfully, because Stefan had no idea – the guy froze up again, likelast week, and spun towards the forest, then Stefan.

He cursed, “Clarisse is coming.” The guy hissed, not pushingStefan away – like last week – but pushing him back towards the cave. “Hide!”

Stefan actually did as told because, um, Clarisse was fucking terrifying.

The cave wasn’t big, just enough space to walk around a bit,hardly standing at full length.

But it was perfectfor hiding – specifically if you curl up in the corner of the shadows.

The stomping got closer, the sound lightening as she emergedin the grassy learing. Stefan couldn’t see the head counselor, could hardly seethe edge of the guy’s back through the vines – now was really not thetime to notice but Stefan was suddenly so grateful that the Ares kids nevermissed leg day because damn -

“I cleared this area.” Stefan could barely hear the guy tellher, “Roxy and Hunter took the east part of the forest.”

She grunted in agreement, “Good. They’ve got good eyes. Youdone here? Annabeth is about to make the attack for the flag and we needdefense.”

“Yeah, I’m done – let’s go.”

There was a moment of silence – a pause, and Stefan wonderedhow long he should wait before crawling out. The quiet was broken, and whenClarisse spoke up, her voice was much more closer then Stefan would havepreferred. “Did you check that cave?”

“Nothing there. Some spiders, a few garden snakes.”

That must have been the right thing to say, because Clarisse’svoice was much more distant as she responded. “Gross. Alright, find Eliza and –“She cut herself off, her voice edging up. “Shit! That’s Kayla! Get her!”

Both of them shot off after Kayla, hopefully missing howHina was shadowing after her, Sebastian ahead.  

He was left alone, the sudden quiet leaving him with aphysical presence in the cave, as well as a major fact.

Stefan…had to figure out who that guy was.

It couldn’t be Archer – much too young – and they hadmentioned Hunter. That left…Sherman, Mark, Arsen, and Ellis. For the first timein his life, Stefan cursed the similar, tall, muscular build that all the olderAres teens carried.

He needed to figure this out.

And he needed more data.

-

The red flag was flowing through the air, and his team was still screaming their heads off.

Scarlett had cried, and Mitchell was still pretending hispink eyes had to do with lack of sleep.

They had thrown Stefan in the air, each demanding to know howhe’d managed to distract two Areskids while Sebastian and Hina snuck by without even getting a bruise.

Stefan was still laughing, pretending like his story wasmore interesting then “I hid in the cave”and pretending to take the tale to his grave.

His siblings and friends surrounded him, each high on theirown version of the game. Mitchell and Connor, disgustingly, were lip-locked inthe middle of the crowd, Connor’s winning move of delivering the other side’sflag apparently still being rewarded.

Stefan was laughing as Lacey hung off him and Sophia’sshoulders, her feet kicked up so she could swing between them. Both of them,giggling, hugged him tight, Sophia’s hand coming up to ruffle his hair. Theypulled away, running off to apparently octopus Sebastian as he held Sabrina onhis shoulders.

Their team was integrated with each cabin freely running backand forth, a Demeter girl hand-in-hand with Scarlett, a Hermes guy trailingafter them both, each of them beaming with victory as they ran off. There wasalready a rumor the Hermes cabin had a victory celebration planned, and fromthe several cotton candy machines being wheeled out, it wasn’t just that.

Stefan was just peeling off a hug from Sabrina, Sebastianrunning off in her wake as she shot away, when something – someone – caught thecorner of his eye.

Ellis – one of the Ares kids around his age, strolled up toStefan, grinning, and Stefan’s world nearly took a 360.

Ellis…had really nice shoulders.

And had always stared at Stefan’s collarbones more then normal (which, Stefan had amazing collarbones, he knew this, so it was to be expected to a certain extent)

Stefan had the sudden vivid memory of one of the Hermes kidsSpring Break parties last month, where there was too much alcohol and not enoughadult supervision, where Stefan had made out with three separate guys in onenight – Malcolm, who still avoiding his eyes, Basil, who was the biggest flirt inDemeter and still winked at Stefan from across the Mess Hall, and –

And Ellis.

He had been so fuzzy that night, just happy to be in someone’sarms with all their attention on him. It had been the end of the night, andStefan was always, uh, excited afterhis third drink, and Ellis had…

He blinked, nearly dizzy with the forgotten memory.

…Ellis had dropped him off with Mitchell, laughing andpulling off Stefan’s arms as Stefan tried to push down his pants. He winked,telling Stefan to come back if he actually remembered anything in the morning.

Stefan hadn’t, not at all, only remembering bits and piecesof warm mouth and dark hair, not really thinking of how he ended up waking upin Mitchell’s bottom bunk. Had only known it was three guys instead of the two he remembered from Sebastian’s later teasing about one-upping him. 

Ellis was grinning down at him now, amused, his helmettucked under his arm.

And that….that was the last piece of data.

Hope you enjoyed, anon! And I apologize for my many mistakes but i’m tired and I have homework

[riverdamien]

Tenderloin Stations of the Cross

He Hung Upon the Cross

    Today we remember that on Good Friday God got his hands dirty, when in the person of Jesus he was nailed to the cross.

    Today we walk with Jesus to the cross, and we suffering from our own personal crosses are called to walk in solidarity with Jesus.

    Our faith is not one for the individual, but of  solidarity, for in walking in solidarity with others our own sufferings become easier, as we join in the healing of others.     Personally when I am suffering from physical or emotional issues,  we find  in walking on the street, listening to the problems of others, healing and solace. In solidarity we find unity. Henri Nouwen writes:

There is a real pain in your heart, a pain that truly belongs to you. You know now that you cannot avoid, ignore, or repress it. It is this pain that reveals to you how you are called to live in solidarity with the broken human race.

"You must distinguish carefully, however, between your pain and the pains that have attached themselves to it but are not truly yours. When you feel rejected, when you think of yourself as a failure and a misfit, you must be careful not to let these feelings and thoughts pierce your heart. You are not a failure or a misfit. Therefore, you have to disown these pains as false. They can paralyze you and prevent you from loving the way you are called to love.

It is a struggle to keep distinguishing the real pain from the false pains. But as you are faithful to that struggle, you will see more and more clearly your unique call to love. As you see that call, you will be more and more able to claim your real pain as your unique way to glory."

   God in the form of Jesus, got his hands dirty, "He who hung the earth upon the waters: today he is hung upon the cross." (Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals).

    Today as we  walk the Stations of the Cross from our homes in spirit  through the Tenderloin,  each of us will be present with those on the street, and your prayers and thoughts will join with me in our  suffering with Jesus so that we walk in solidarity:

Small Pebbles

Mark 4:26-34 English Standard Version (ESV)

The Parable of the Seed Growing

26 And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. 27 He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. 28 The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”

The Parable of the Mustard Seed

30 And he said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? 31 It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, 32 yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

33 With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. 34 He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.

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    Standing in front of City Hall in San Francisco, one is overwhelmed by its size, beauty, and the power it contains. It is from here that millions are given for the homeless and disenfranchised. Each year millions are spent, and each year the misery on the streets continues.

    Each spring and throughout the summer there is a spot in the County Park in Marinwood where we walk. In a corner between the fence and the path, nasturtiums and morning glory vines grow and flourish. Our grandmother planted both as we were growing up, and our memory returns to those years of nurture and love. They are small pebbles reminding us of love, a love that continues to flow in our veins. Small pebbles like the mustard seed speak to us through the portals of time. They continue to blossom, ever so slowly.

    Recently we received an email from a lady we had encountered late one night on Polk. We had simply bought her a meal and spent time chatting. We had no memories of that night. That was years ago. She wrote, “That one meal saved my life. I found life worth living in those moments with you.” 

    Small pebbles cast like mustard seed.

    There are few opportunities for grand gestures, but we can practice what Dorothy Day called “pebbles” of kindness. 

    In the area around City Hall, moving out into the neighborhood, we are surrounded by misery. People sleeping on the street. Minds blazing on drugs. Drug dealing on our corners.

    Jesus began his journey to Calvary, and invites us to journey with him, adding our light to the sum of his, and giving small “pebbles” of kindness to others. 

Dear God,

I so much want to be in control.

I want to be the master of my own destiny.

Still I know that you are saying:

“Let me take you by the hand and lead you.

Accept my love

and trust that where I will bring you,

the deepest desires of your heart will be fulfilled.”

Lord, open my hands to receive your gift of love.

Amen. Father Henri Nouwen

Station 1: Jesus Condemned to Death

    Jesus is condemned to die when we sit with complacency, passing the buck to others, and simply throwing up our hands. Ugandan Theologian Emmanuel Katongole reminds us:

“Mary represents the ‘rebel consciousness’ that is essential to Jesus’ gospel. Wherever the gospel is preached, we must remember that its good news will make you crazy. Jesus will put you at odds with the economic and political systems of our world. This gospel will force you to act, interrupting the world as it is in ways that make even pious people indignant.”

    Homeless campsites are being moved out of parks, our doorways, and people are scared. They lose all they have in one sweep, with nowhere to go.  In Santa Rosa, one of the largest camp sites was removed from near a hiking trail and suburban housing, and shelter could only be offered to a third of the population. Residents rejoiced; they could now hike in safety and without seeing the homeless. Out of sight, out of mind.

    Alex is an eighteen-year-old black young man from our area who is HIV positive. His parents kicked him out because of “the sin he brought into his life.” He has had difficulty in finding services, and panhandles on the corner near our public library. People walk by ignoring or condemning, while some offer money. A small pebble of caring through talking, giving money, time, and food makes all the difference to Alex.

    In Alex and the people in the tents in Santa Rosa, Jesus is condemned to die. His innocence enters into the humanity of those ignored, shunned, condemned, and despised. 

Let us pray:

While we sat in darkness, Lord Jesus Christ, you interrupted us with your life. Make us, your people, a holy interruption so that by your Spirit’s power we may live as a light to the nations, even as we stumble through this world’s dark night. Amen. (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals).

Station 2: Jesus Carries His Cross

    Jesus was forced to carry the cross upon which he would be nailed, ridiculed, and executed. What does it represent? It represents that, for his journey he takes up the weight of all of our crosses: all of our senseless suffering and the weight of all the sin in the world, past, present and future.  

    Kobe Bryant describes his journey: “When I was young, my mindset was image, image, image. I took that approach with the media. As I became more experienced I realized that no matter what, people are going to like you or not like you. So be authentic, and let them like you or not for who you actually are. At that point, I started keeping all of my answers blunt and straightforward. I would mix in some humor and sarcasm, too. I think fans and reporters came to appreciate that, came to appreciate the real me.”

    A number of years ago a young friend was using Father River’s car. He took it to his private school with an ounce of marijuana, and was somehow caught. River told the school it was his marijuana, which resulted in losing financial support, reputation, and nearly legal consequences. This young man is now in law school which, with that incident on his record, may not have happened. Temenos stands with young men on trial for murder, without judgment, and with the hope they will find new life. It is not about being co-dependent, immature, or idealistic. It is about, like Kobe Bryant, learning to be authentic. It means taking up the cross, always seeing the best in people, and giving them second, third, and fourth chances. It means taking them for who are, and walking with them without applying our expectations of how they should live their lives upon them. It means walking with them as equals. 

   Bearing the cross of Jesus on the street means withholding our judgment of those we see. It means getting to know each one, and sometimes being hurt personally. It means to love them, and advocate for each one. It means walking with them as equals and casting out small pebbles in faith.

“Things are topsy-turvy in your kingdom, God. The poor bear gifts of great worth, the dead rise, the meek inherit the earth. Teach us how to live in an upside-down world where we are called to welcome the outcast, prepare a feast for the ragged, and forgive those who offend.” Amen (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals).

Station 3: Jesus Falls the First Time

    In your imagination can you see a friend, or yourself, fall to the ground? The cross became too much for Jesus and he fell, powerless in the moment. Jesus falls each day in the homeless who suffer from mental illness and drug abuse.

    In San Francisco, the estimated statistics are that 37% suffer from alcohol/drug abuse, and 35% from mental illness. It is difficult to separate these two figures because they both play into each other.

    In the story of the Gerasenes demoniac from the book of Mark, we read: 

“5 They came to the other side of the sea,to the country of the Gerasenes.[a] 2 And when Jesus[b] had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. 3 He lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain, 4 for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to subdue him. 5 Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and cutting himself with stones. 6 And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down before him. 7 And crying out with a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” 8 For he was saying to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” 9 And Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion, for we are many.” 10 And he begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. 11 Now a great herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside, 12 and they begged him, saying, “Send us to the pigs; let us enter them.” 13 So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the pigs; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the sea.

14 The herdsmen fled and told it in the city and in the country. And people came to see what it was that had happened. 15 And they came to Jesus and saw the demon-possessed[c] man, the one who had had the legion, sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, and they were afraid. 16 And those who had seen it described to them what had happened to the demon-possessed man and to the pigs. 17 And they began to beg Jesus[d] to depart from their region. 18 As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him. 19 And he did not permit him but said to him, “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” 20 And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled.

        This is the scene we see on the streets daily. Healing those who suffer from mental illness was a part of the ministry of Jesus. It should, by extension, be a part of our own. All of us have something to contribute, including those without professional or pastoral expertise in mental health care. We do not have to be therapists, but we must be the face of Jesus.

    Mental illness has biological causes, but it also impacts one’s spiritual life: the ability to find meaning. We all have a role to play in helping others restore their confidence, find support, and rediscover their value. 

     We all fail in our care of the mentally ill and addicted, but Father Henry Nouwen calls us in these words to get up and to love deeply:

“Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply. You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love even more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds.”

    In the same way, we fail each time we criticize or condemn someone that we disagree with or simply do not like. Today it was announced that Rush Limbaugh has lung cancer, and many responses put forth have been to wish him much suffering and some death. Growing up we were friends with Mr. Limbaugh’s family; his granddad was a partner in a law firm with my best friend’s dad. They are conservative, but very decent people. When my dad was dying from lung cancer himself, the Limbaugh family often gave my mother and me a place to stay.  

    Through the years I have received death threats, along with all sorts of painful “shit” said to me at first through the phone, then email, and now social media. For the most part, these come from people who do not know me. Those words hurt and tear me apart. What I have learned through my experience, and the pain in the experience of others who have been hurt by the judgment of people, is that only in caring and loving each other can we truly find wholeness and happiness. Judgment belongs to God! 

Station 4: Jesus Meets His Mother

    As we reflect upon the fourth station of the cross we can hear Mary saying: 

“As I pushed and shoved to move through the crowds to be as close to my son as I could, we came to a place in the road where he stopped. He saw me. And we looked into each others eyes. I didn’t want him to see my tears or know my pain, but I long ago accepted how thoroughly he knew me. The love from my heart poured out in the only embrace I could give him. My lips quietly said the prayer he taught us, “Father, may your Kingdom come and your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” He nodded so slightly, took a deep breath and moved on up the hill. The sword passing through my heart had blessed his mission and I knew he knew it. Thank him with me, even now, that he took up that mission for us. Thank him that he has tasted the separation and loss that every person in the world knows who has lost a loved one. And, he has understood the heart of every loving mother who grieves at the suffering of her children. He has become completely at one with us” From “Stations” Ignatian Press.

    As Jesus looked into Mary’s heart, so he looks into ours. With those eyes that are completely one with us, he speaks with so much love: 

“Consult your own heart and decide what kind of person you want to be. You have a brief journey on this planet: how will you treat yourself, your work, and those you meet along the way? Your values are not what you say, but how you treat people, how you run meetings, whom you hire, how you treat your child who wants to play when you come home exhausted, whether you inconvenience yourself to support your friends, and how you react in a host of daily moments such as how you treat homeless people on the street, if you feed the homeless, advocate and provide housing, and health care for those who have none.” ( The Ignatian Book of Days).

    St. Ignatius said that love ought to be shown in deeds rather than in words.

  If your deeds could speak, what statement did you make in the past twenty four hours?

Let us pray:

Savior of the world, save us from our sins, our sadness, and our self-deception. Give us courage to live in a world we cannot fix with hope that has already been redeemed. Amen.

Station 5:  Simon Helps Jesus Carry His Cross

    For a moment reflect upon what it must have been like for Jesus to simply not be able to carry the cross any farther alone. A stranger was asked to assist him.  Jesus came to know the experience of depending upon others.

    We all depend on one another. Look around and see the individuals on the street, in the doorways, and meditate for a moment on the words of Thomas Merton:

“I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine, and I theirs, so that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness. .”

How would our day be different if we could see every person as God’s beloved child?

Let us pray:

“O God most holy, in Jesus Christ you have laid a foundation upon which to build our lives: Help us to follow your perfect law of love, that we may fulfill it and observe it to the end. Amen.” (Revised Common Lectionary Prayer, page 6).

Station 6: Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus

    On the face of Jesus was spit, blood, and violence. As Veronica wiped his face she saw the depth of his solidarity, his union with us in our suffering and rejection.

   We are reminded of a young man, on a Snickers TV commercial, who was paid a fee to go out and give people Snickers bars. As he gave them out, his face shined and he commented, “I spend the majority of my time on social media, and this is really fun, interacting one on one with ‘real people.’” Our smart phones, computers, and social media cut us off from face to face contact. We become robots, have no sense of union and solidarity with others, no sense of the suffering of others, and of sharing our own suffering.

    St. Ignatius teaches us “indifference.” He describes letting our lives center on God, being of service to others, simply serving and giving of ourselves. We do not worry about the costs, effectiveness, expectations, and criticisms of others--we simply give of ourselves in service.

    Veronica wiping the face of Jesus symbolizes our caring for people in the name of Jesus without expectation. Each night thousands of people of all ages sleep on our streets, suffer because of no food, health insurance, and, more importantly, suffer because of their lack of love. People suffer because of our robot response.

    Veronica calls us to care for each other in our personal interactions, in simple ways, in our one on one relationships. Rather than worry about our present, past, future, our health, and well-being, let us live and enjoy each moment of life, and care for each person we come in contact with. Let us give out Snickers all day long! Let us pray: 

    Jesus, our vocation comes out of who we are now, which is our greatest strength and our greatest need. You call us to follow you. We are not pointed on the road to independence, but through our weakness are reminded to keep following you or we will otherwise be lost. You are the Savior we need. Amen.

Station 7: Jesus Falls the Second Time

        As Jesus progressed towards Calvary he became tired emotionally and physically, and fell a second time. People, many of whom had supported and hailed him on Palm Sunday, were now yelling threats of condemnation and hatred. People are fickle, and when we are in crowds of those like us, we stick together.

    We see this in the divisions of our society. The wealthy, the upper middle class, and the middle class white privileged people stay separate. People of color stay in their groups. The  homeless huddle together in theirs. Youth and young adults form their groups. We are afraid to cross over our boundaries; in not doing so, we fail to understand each other, and fail to be each other’s brother and sister. 

    Jesus breaks down boundaries, which is one of the reasons he is carrying the cross. He recognizes that each of us, in the words of Douglas Preston, has “a Monster within, [and] the difference is in the degree, not in kind.”  Jesus fell under the weight of that knowledge. 

    He calls us to open our eyes to each other, get out of our boundaries, and love one other. He calls us to break across our borders and see each person as an equal, all on the same journey, all needing support.

    During this election year we see, hear, and feel the divide among people. Painful and hateful words are said, and one can see there is a “Monster within, the difference is in the degree” of each of us. 

    Our friend, the Reverend Gregory Weeks, wrote a blog article, and one that personally all of us should take to heart. Reflect upon his words. Remember Jesus falling under the weight of the cross, and the rejection by his brothers and sisters:

Christian Values and the Presidency--By the Reverend Gregory Weeks:

“After witnessing the recent State of the Union speech and its aftermath, I’ve made a resolution.

In the election of our next president, I no longer care much about political party, nor even about a conservative or liberal orientation. Rather, after the votes are tallied in November, I hope the result will be the election of a president who embodies at least a few Christian values.

While there may be disagreement between the right and the left in terms of what those values may be, I’m talking about the ones that are non-debatable. They’re what Jesus laid out in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). He said his disciples should be: Compassionate. Merciful. Humble. Honest. Moral. Non-judgmental. Courageous. Peace-loving. Forgiving. Devout. Disciplined. Self-aware.

He never limited these values to only the populace and not the leaders. Nor did he say that to embrace such characteristics you had to affirm creeds or dogma. Simply put: to live in the kingdom of this world as his disciple, you must live as if the kingdom of God really matters.

So, regardless of party or even religion, I want our next president to claim such a moral stance.

This sounds idealistic and naïve, given the hard realities of political life. A good leader must also be smart, politically savvy, experienced, and a strategic thinker. The person must also know when to compromise for a greater good, such as when armed conflict may be the only alternative.

Yet, I will feel a lot more comfortable knowing that the most powerful person in the world has a solid moral base.

Having a moral base promotes a broader vision rather than a narrow one. Christian values transcend national boundaries and party lines. They are the glue bonding the whole of human society.

Also, someone who lives out such values is a person I can trust. They have integrity. I will more likely believe what they say without having to first fact check it.

Finally, if a president’s values align with those preached by Jesus, then the values will impact policies. Immigration. Relations with the international community. Equal rights. Climate. Health care. Business regulations. Policies reflect priorities, and priorities should arise from what someone holds as sacred truths.

So, in the ensuing debates, caucuses, and election, I’ll be re-reading Jesus’ first sermon as a refresher. I hope whoever wins in November will do the same. If so, regardless of the person’s creed or lack thereof, I’ll sleep better. If they share values Jesus thought was important, that’s good enough for me.”

    Let us remember that each of us can plant small pebbles of Love!

Station 8: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem

    Jesus, in his own pain, comforts a group of women who greet him along the way to Calvary. They try to comfort him, but he looks on them with love and compassion and their hearts are transformed, as they see their mission is that of love and compassion without judgment. It is good to reflect here, with him, on the mission each of us has; it can be shaped by this encounter with his suffering, death, and resurrection. 

    Terrence McGrath, a wealthy Piedmont resident, opened his $4 million home to a homeless couple last year. Mr. McGrath entered into an agreement with the couple that they would find jobs and get their own place. In living with them, though, he has learned several things. First, that his exclusive neighbors would not understand, and have been afraid. Second, that ending homelessness is not a matter of getting a job or “tough love.” This couple has been homeless for several generations, the daughter is homeless.  

    McGrath has learned that the root of homelessness has many facets; it is not just a housing problem. Not everyone has the capacity, physical or mental, to do what it takes to support themselves.

    McGrath, in the evolution of his thoughts on homelessness, has given them his word he will not kick them out. If he moves, he will provide for them. 

    The street is about survival, an existence that’s physically and mentally draining. Homelessness breaks down minds, bodies, and hearts. Recovering from that drama takes more than four walls, but walls help tremendously. McGrath has made a commitment to them: “I’ll never abandon them. I’m never going to not finish with them.”

    Jesus is never finished with us! He will never abandon us!  

    It is good to reflect here, with him, on the mission each of us has that can be shaped by this encounter with his suffering, death, and resurrection, “for me”. Thank him for this brief time to recall the gift we have received and ask yourself, what small pebbles we can cast?

“The street transforms every ordinary day into a series of quick questions and every incorrect answer risks a beat down, shooting or pregnancy.” (author unkown)

Let us pray:

“Lord, show us that reconciling with those we imagine different from us is not only for peace, but also for training us more deeply in the faith that honors everything created by your hand. Help us see that reconciliation leads us to deeper knowledge of you. Amen. (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals by Shane Claiborne)

Station 9: Jesus Falls the Third Time

    This final fall is one we will always remember. Having endured a beating and losing so much blood, Jesus is so weak he falls a third time. He appears dead lying on the ground. His arms spread out, Jesus found solidarity with all who fall any way. 

    Remembering how the soldiers roughly pull Jesus up and made him take his last steps to Calvary, we identify with individuals who are in our door ways: the mentally ill and those beaten down by drug abuse and by mistreatment in general. They are dirty, lying face down in the dirt. Many will never be able to get up again and live as we imagine they should live. The truth is that life sucks, and we often do not draw the higher card. We fall, we cannot get up.

    As Jesus understands our every weakness, especially those we cannot overcome, let us express gratitude for his understanding. Let us pray that we, too, may understand the weakness of our brothers and sisters whose weaknesses lay them flat on the ground. Let us, in the name of Jesus, provide housing, health care, and food for every person, without exception. 

Let us pray:

O Great Love, thank you for living and loving in us and through us. May all that we do flow from our deep connection with you and all beings. Help us become a community that vulnerably shares each other’s burdens and the weight of glory. Listen to our hearts’ longings for the healing of our world. [Please add your own intentions.] . . . Knowing you are hearing us better than we are speaking, we offer these prayers in all the holy names of God, amen. Fr. Richard Rhor

Station 10: Jesus Is Stripped

    Jesus was stripped. Can you imagine how violated Jesus felt when he was stripped naked. They intended to shame him by crucifying him with no clothes. They simply had to strip him of any dignity he had left.

    As we read of the journey of undocumented immigrants on our borders and in our cities, we see them stripped of their dignity. They are placed in “camps” and treated as if they are POW’s. This is not just something happening now. The United States has isolated and imprisoned immigrants from day one, mostly people of color. 

    We see the homeless being treated with “tough love”, being pushed into shelters where food and living conditions are unacceptable, and living on our streets.

     Nelson Mandela once said: “To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”  If we truly want to be free, our lives must be lived with seeking to respect and encourage the freedom of the dispossessed, the poor, the immigrants, and minorities.

    Thomas Merton described one of the best ways to strip ourselves of our ego and our fears, and in so doing, completely identify with those who suffer, like Jesus did:

“Humility consists in being precisely the person you actually are before God, and since no two people are alike, if you have the humility to be yourself you will not be like anyone else in the universe. It is not humility to insist on being someone that you are not. It is as much as saying that you know better than God who you are and who you ought to be. How do you expect to arrive at the end of your own journey if you take the road to another person’s city? How do you expect to reach your own perfection by leading someone else’s life?” 

    May we lead our lives being who we are, acknowledging that we all are on the same journey and are entitled to the same benefits. Let us cast pebbles of love and, in so doing, touch the lives of all in creation.  Let us pray:

Jesus, as we see you stripped and humiliated, we are reminded that to identify with you, we too must be stripped of our ego, our self-centeredness, and live our lives as we are, with no pretenses. In so doing, we become one with you and with our brothers and sisters everywhere. Amen.

Station 11: Jesus Nailed to the Cross

    We wear crosses made out of precious metal, some with diamonds encased, and they are lovely. But the cross Jesus was nailed to was made of rugged wood, and crude nails were hammered into his hands and feet. 

    The very hands that healed so many were held open; nails were driven in, causing them to gush blood. The look on his face gave a glimpse of the spasms of pain which ran through his body.

    Jesus was nailed to the cross not as an atonement, a sacrifice for our individual sins. He was crucified as one who is seeking to restore justice through demonstrating his absolute love for humanity, calling each of us to seek restoration of our lives and society.

    Retribution is seen in our world through our methods of dealing with people on the margins. When we see people on the street—the mentally ill, the drug abusers, the people of color, the poor--come to the surface, we are afraid, and seek retribution. It’s our way of pushing aside what we choose not to see or deal with.  Our prisons are full of people of color and the poor.

    We can talk about “social justice,” and “peace and justice,” in general terms. It gives us goosebumps as we see social justice as packing food, giving used clothes to people, and sharing food that  is given to us by the food bank from behind a table. We feel good as we go home to our nice apartments and houses, visiting with our wonderful friends, believing we have done our part. Just gives us goose bumps!

    But Jesus tells us to “Take up your cross” and “follow me.” His call is for each of us to walk the streets, to pound on the doors of politicians, to give people housing, to provide for medical treatment and food. To walk with them as Jesus, who is nailed to the Cross, and in so doing, point to the Resurrection and to restoration.

    When we reach the bottom, we are experiencing what it means to be “poor in spirit” (Matthew 5:3), where we have no privilege to prove or protect but much to seek and become. Jesus calls such people “blessed,” and Dorothy Day said as much in these words:

“The only way to live in any true security is to live so close to the bottom that when you fall you do not have too far to drop, you do not have much to lose.”  

     Let us become as small pebbles being cast into the sea of restoration.

Let us pray:

God, as we meditate on Jesus being nailed to the cross and his pain, we ask that our changed lives can be open to love. His willingness to suffer for humanity moves us to follow him and give ourselves away as well, becoming “poor in spirit.” In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Station 12: Jesus Dies on the Cross and Jesus is Laid in the Tomb

    Jesus struggled to breathe, pulling himself up to let air into his lungs. As he hung on the cross, he spoke of mercy and love, forgiving the thief and his enemies. With his last breath he died.

    As we have moved through the Tenderloin we have seen people selling drugs, begging for food, and sleeping in the doorways and in the alleys. We see life and we see death. 

    We see Jesus being laid in his tomb. As we picture this scene, let us place the image of the empty tomb before our eyes. Whenever we stand outside of any tomb and grieve, remember this empty tomb. Know that through the eyes of faith, all tombs are empty. Through the eyes of faith we can become Christ and empty the tombs of hunger, homelessness, meaningless, and want.

    Oscar Romero speaks to us in these moments:

“We live in a time of struggle between truth and lies, between sincerity, which almost no one believes still, and hypocrisy and intrigue. Let’s not be afraid brothers and sisters; let’s try to be sincere, to love truth; let’s try to model ourselves on Christ Jesus. It is time for us to have a great sense of selection, of discernment.”

     How will we practice Christ Jesus’ way of love, justice, and truth this day? How can we be small pebbles in the world?

     Join me in signing ourselves with the sign of his cross, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world. Amen.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Fr. River Damien Sims. sfw, DMin. D.S.T

www.temenos/org.

temenos@gmail.com

415-305-2124

[davisgordonc]

Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci

Bloggers, Instagrammers, Snapchatters and YouTube stars are taking over turf from celebrity influencers.

Bloomberg reports that $255 million is spent on influencer marketing every month, and this spend is set to grow to a $5B to $10B market.

TrendPie is a start-up offering social media campaigns and promotion to help connect users with clients’ apps and services. brandchannel sat down with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci, whose journey began the summer after his senior year of high school, after posting a six second “life hack” video to his Vine account, @QuickLifeHacks, using a water bottle to separate the white and yolk of an egg. From that surprising start, Ricci transitioned from social media stardom to launch TrendPie in April 2015 to connect brands to his network of non-celebrity online influencers. The key to his business model is right in the name, TrendPie, “Everyone can get a piece of the influencer marketing pie.”

What was the inspiration for that hack, and what followed?

I don’t like eggs—so I was playing around with a water bottle hack and made the video, and my mom said, “You should put that on your Twitter account”. I resisted and said nobody is going to care, that’s a stupid idea. But eventually I did and it went viral.

My Vine account grew every day after that, reaching more than 1.4 million followers and becoming one of the most followed accounts worldwide.

Companies started offering me $3,000 – $5,000 to feature their products, mostly gaming and app companies—smaller ones—younger and more progressive with their ads than the big guys. Apps that were already promoting on Vine like Game of War and Westbound, appealing to a millennial audience and looking to increase their bottom dollar with any means necessary.

Winston Churchill. http://pic.twitter.com/7jSF9bXMUz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 24, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

It’s a big change to move from social media stardom to go-between for brands and influencers. What was your motivation?

It was definitely a conscious change. I stopped enjoying being in front of the camera, stopped enjoying being an influencer. I didn’t like the image or the mentality or the lifestyle behind it. So one day I just stopped posting Vines. I had posted 196 Vines in about one and half years, posting every day, then every couple of days and then weekly. I just lost interest.

But I saw the value of it and knew I had the connections, and I’m passionate about social media and understand it pretty well along with apps—so I figured why not do something I’m passionate about and leverage everything learned up to this point?

Great advice we can all adhere to a bit better http://pic.twitter.com/bFmluMKAKf

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 23, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

You’ve said of TrendPie’s strategy, “I think of it kind of as the Wal-Mart approach. We charge less, but we do it everyday.” Please elaborate.

I figured, what these brands are paying me, there’s no way they’re making $3,000 – $5,000 on what I post, they’re not breaking even—probably even losing money, and the deals were inconsistent.

So I figured, instead of charging $5,000, we’ll charge 10% of that, $500, but we’ll do a post every single day. The brands will have more exposure for the same amount—they’ll make money—and have more money to spend in the long run.

I contacted a few of my influencer friends and pitched them the idea, and they all said “Yes, when do we start?”. I got a call from Joshua Anton wanting me to promote his Drunk Mode app on my Vine channel, which stops you from doing dumb things when you’re out drinking like blocking numbers so you can’t call your ex-girlfriend or your professor or your mother. It helps you find your friends and lets them know you’ve gotten home after a night out.

So we set up our first campaign for $2,000, and I rallied as many influencers as I could. Next day—the app was trending on the App Store. Josh was happy and booked another campaign, then 10 more and eventually we broke even. It validated what we were doing, and now Josh is a minority partner in TrendPie.

Case study for the Walk Against Humanity app. http://pic.twitter.com/AdJDHjE0mM

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 16, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Social influencers have turned legacy celebrity marketing on its head—a paradigm shift from a Kim Kardashian getting $500,000 a post. Who are your network of influencers and what’s their profile?

The definition of celebrity has changed. Influencers are now celebrities in their own right. People with hundreds of thousands if not millions of followers are now celebrities just because they post videos of themselves putting on make-up. There’s something about that I’m just inherently against. But I was there and I understand it 100%. They’re playing the game. Some are more genuine than others—some not talented, while others are extremely talented—and over time, the ones with talent separate from the pack.

Gen Z’ers see these people on social media and they respect them, so they emulate them and want to follow the positive characteristics they see. They see someone massively popular on social media and follow them, and feel like they could be like that person. “I could get there.” It’s the American Dream in itself. People mimic the style, the colors, the imagery, and it gives many kids an identity and something to look up to, confidence to go outside their comfort zone.

Originality > Imitation http://pic.twitter.com/GrtveFAjqF

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 29, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Looking ahead, will social media influencers replace celebrities, or will there always be both? And how will TrendPie change to meet them?

Both. There’s always going to be a high-end car like a Ferrari and people who buy them. But our model is disruptive—kind of like Tesla making the electric car for everyone.

An expenditure of $2000 with us gets you 2 million impressions—that’s a guaranteed minimum, but we’ve seen 4.5 million impressions from that spend since people just keep sharing and promoting our campaigns which are typically one day pushes—trending the next day, then a few days off—then repeat. In one campaign we pushed 50 million impressions in 24 hours.

Let's get you trending! http://pic.twitter.com/HvF0FR6egz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 9, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

We want to take TrendPie into other social media, including movie and television show trailers and sees Snapchat as a big opportunity since they don’t currently have support for influencers. We recently renovated our office space in Rhode Island, we’re setting up an internship, and hiring a sales team.

Oh and PS—Thanks Mom!

Get more insights in our Q&A series and suggest a Q&A at editor@brandchannel.com.

Subscribe to our free daily e-newsletter for more.

The post Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci appeared first on brandchannel:.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2wRtt4S via IFTTT

[joejstrickl]

Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci

Bloggers, Instagrammers, Snapchatters and YouTube stars are taking over turf from celebrity influencers.

Bloomberg reports that $255 million is spent on influencer marketing every month, and this spend is set to grow to a $5B to $10B market.

TrendPie is a start-up offering social media campaigns and promotion to help connect users with clients’ apps and services. brandchannel sat down with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci, whose journey began the summer after his senior year of high school, after posting a six second “life hack” video to his Vine account, @QuickLifeHacks, using a water bottle to separate the white and yolk of an egg. From that surprising start, Ricci transitioned from social media stardom to launch TrendPie in April 2015 to connect brands to his network of non-celebrity online influencers. The key to his business model is right in the name, TrendPie, “Everyone can get a piece of the influencer marketing pie.”

What was the inspiration for that hack, and what followed?

I don’t like eggs—so I was playing around with a water bottle hack and made the video, and my mom said, “You should put that on your Twitter account”. I resisted and said nobody is going to care, that’s a stupid idea. But eventually I did and it went viral.

My Vine account grew every day after that, reaching more than 1.4 million followers and becoming one of the most followed accounts worldwide.

Companies started offering me $3,000 – $5,000 to feature their products, mostly gaming and app companies—smaller ones—younger and more progressive with their ads than the big guys. Apps that were already promoting on Vine like Game of War and Westbound, appealing to a millennial audience and looking to increase their bottom dollar with any means necessary.

Winston Churchill. pic.twitter.com/7jSF9bXMUz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 24, 2017

It’s a big change to move from social media stardom to go-between for brands and influencers. What was your motivation?

It was definitely a conscious change. I stopped enjoying being in front of the camera, stopped enjoying being an influencer. I didn’t like the image or the mentality or the lifestyle behind it. So one day I just stopped posting Vines. I had posted 196 Vines in about one and half years, posting every day, then every couple of days and then weekly. I just lost interest.

But I saw the value of it and knew I had the connections, and I’m passionate about social media and understand it pretty well along with apps—so I figured why not do something I’m passionate about and leverage everything learned up to this point?

Great advice we can all adhere to a bit better pic.twitter.com/bFmluMKAKf

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 23, 2017

You’ve said of TrendPie’s strategy, “I think of it kind of as the Wal-Mart approach. We charge less, but we do it everyday.” Please elaborate.

I figured, what these brands are paying me, there’s no way they’re making $3,000 – $5,000 on what I post, they’re not breaking even—probably even losing money, and the deals were inconsistent.

So I figured, instead of charging $5,000, we’ll charge 10% of that, $500, but we’ll do a post every single day. The brands will have more exposure for the same amount—they’ll make money—and have more money to spend in the long run.

I contacted a few of my influencer friends and pitched them the idea, and they all said “Yes, when do we start?”. I got a call from Joshua Anton wanting me to promote his Drunk Mode app on my Vine channel, which stops you from doing dumb things when you’re out drinking like blocking numbers so you can’t call your ex-girlfriend or your professor or your mother. It helps you find your friends and lets them know you’ve gotten home after a night out.

So we set up our first campaign for $2,000, and I rallied as many influencers as I could. Next day—the app was trending on the App Store. Josh was happy and booked another campaign, then 10 more and eventually we broke even. It validated what we were doing, and now Josh is a minority partner in TrendPie.

Case study for the Walk Against Humanity app. pic.twitter.com/AdJDHjE0mM

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 16, 2017

Social influencers have turned legacy celebrity marketing on its head—a paradigm shift from a Kim Kardashian getting $500,000 a post. Who are your network of influencers and what’s their profile?

The definition of celebrity has changed. Influencers are now celebrities in their own right. People with hundreds of thousands if not millions of followers are now celebrities just because they post videos of themselves putting on make-up. There’s something about that I’m just inherently against. But I was there and I understand it 100%. They’re playing the game. Some are more genuine than others—some not talented, while others are extremely talented—and over time, the ones with talent separate from the pack.

Gen Z’ers see these people on social media and they respect them, so they emulate them and want to follow the positive characteristics they see. They see someone massively popular on social media and follow them, and feel like they could be like that person. “I could get there.” It’s the American Dream in itself. People mimic the style, the colors, the imagery, and it gives many kids an identity and something to look up to, confidence to go outside their comfort zone.

Originality > Imitation pic.twitter.com/GrtveFAjqF

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 29, 2017

Looking ahead, will social media influencers replace celebrities, or will there always be both? And how will TrendPie change to meet them?

Both. There’s always going to be a high-end car like a Ferrari and people who buy them. But our model is disruptive—kind of like Tesla making the electric car for everyone.

An expenditure of $2000 with us gets you 2 million impressions—that’s a guaranteed minimum, but we’ve seen 4.5 million impressions from that spend since people just keep sharing and promoting our campaigns which are typically one day pushes—trending the next day, then a few days off—then repeat. In one campaign we pushed 50 million impressions in 24 hours.

Let's get you trending! pic.twitter.com/HvF0FR6egz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 9, 2017

We want to take TrendPie into other social media, including movie and television show trailers and sees Snapchat as a big opportunity since they don’t currently have support for influencers. We recently renovated our office space in Rhode Island, we’re setting up an internship, and hiring a sales team.

Oh and PS—Thanks Mom!

Get more insights in our Q&A series and suggest a Q&A at editor@brandchannel.com.

Subscribe to our free daily e-newsletter for more.

The post Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci appeared first on brandchannel:.

[glenmenlow]

Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci

Bloggers, Instagrammers, Snapchatters and YouTube stars are taking over turf from celebrity influencers.

Bloomberg reports that $255 million is spent on influencer marketing every month, and this spend is set to grow to a $5B to $10B market.

TrendPie is a start-up offering social media campaigns and promotion to help connect users with clients’ apps and services. brandchannel sat down with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci, whose journey began the summer after his senior year of high school, after posting a six second “life hack” video to his Vine account, @QuickLifeHacks, using a water bottle to separate the white and yolk of an egg. From that surprising start, Ricci transitioned from social media stardom to launch TrendPie in April 2015 to connect brands to his network of non-celebrity online influencers. The key to his business model is right in the name, TrendPie, “Everyone can get a piece of the influencer marketing pie.”

What was the inspiration for that hack, and what followed?

I don’t like eggs—so I was playing around with a water bottle hack and made the video, and my mom said, “You should put that on your Twitter account”. I resisted and said nobody is going to care, that’s a stupid idea. But eventually I did and it went viral.

My Vine account grew every day after that, reaching more than 1.4 million followers and becoming one of the most followed accounts worldwide.

Companies started offering me $3,000 – $5,000 to feature their products, mostly gaming and app companies—smaller ones—younger and more progressive with their ads than the big guys. Apps that were already promoting on Vine like Game of War and Westbound, appealing to a millennial audience and looking to increase their bottom dollar with any means necessary.

Winston Churchill. pic.twitter.com/7jSF9bXMUz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 24, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

It’s a big change to move from social media stardom to go-between for brands and influencers. What was your motivation?

It was definitely a conscious change. I stopped enjoying being in front of the camera, stopped enjoying being an influencer. I didn’t like the image or the mentality or the lifestyle behind it. So one day I just stopped posting Vines. I had posted 196 Vines in about one and half years, posting every day, then every couple of days and then weekly. I just lost interest.

But I saw the value of it and knew I had the connections, and I’m passionate about social media and understand it pretty well along with apps—so I figured why not do something I’m passionate about and leverage everything learned up to this point?

Great advice we can all adhere to a bit better pic.twitter.com/bFmluMKAKf

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 23, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

You’ve said of TrendPie’s strategy, “I think of it kind of as the Wal-Mart approach. We charge less, but we do it everyday.” Please elaborate.

I figured, what these brands are paying me, there’s no way they’re making $3,000 – $5,000 on what I post, they’re not breaking even—probably even losing money, and the deals were inconsistent.

So I figured, instead of charging $5,000, we’ll charge 10% of that, $500, but we’ll do a post every single day. The brands will have more exposure for the same amount—they’ll make money—and have more money to spend in the long run.

I contacted a few of my influencer friends and pitched them the idea, and they all said “Yes, when do we start?”. I got a call from Joshua Anton wanting me to promote his Drunk Mode app on my Vine channel, which stops you from doing dumb things when you’re out drinking like blocking numbers so you can’t call your ex-girlfriend or your professor or your mother. It helps you find your friends and lets them know you’ve gotten home after a night out.

So we set up our first campaign for $2,000, and I rallied as many influencers as I could. Next day—the app was trending on the App Store. Josh was happy and booked another campaign, then 10 more and eventually we broke even. It validated what we were doing, and now Josh is a minority partner in TrendPie.

Case study for the Walk Against Humanity app. pic.twitter.com/AdJDHjE0mM

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 16, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Social influencers have turned legacy celebrity marketing on its head—a paradigm shift from a Kim Kardashian getting $500,000 a post. Who are your network of influencers and what’s their profile?

The definition of celebrity has changed. Influencers are now celebrities in their own right. People with hundreds of thousands if not millions of followers are now celebrities just because they post videos of themselves putting on make-up. There’s something about that I’m just inherently against. But I was there and I understand it 100%. They’re playing the game. Some are more genuine than others—some not talented, while others are extremely talented—and over time, the ones with talent separate from the pack.

Gen Z’ers see these people on social media and they respect them, so they emulate them and want to follow the positive characteristics they see. They see someone massively popular on social media and follow them, and feel like they could be like that person. “I could get there.” It’s the American Dream in itself. People mimic the style, the colors, the imagery, and it gives many kids an identity and something to look up to, confidence to go outside their comfort zone.

Originality > Imitation pic.twitter.com/GrtveFAjqF

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 29, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Looking ahead, will social media influencers replace celebrities, or will there always be both? And how will TrendPie change to meet them?

Both. There’s always going to be a high-end car like a Ferrari and people who buy them. But our model is disruptive—kind of like Tesla making the electric car for everyone.

An expenditure of $2000 with us gets you 2 million impressions—that’s a guaranteed minimum, but we’ve seen 4.5 million impressions from that spend since people just keep sharing and promoting our campaigns which are typically one day pushes—trending the next day, then a few days off—then repeat. In one campaign we pushed 50 million impressions in 24 hours.

Let's get you trending! pic.twitter.com/HvF0FR6egz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 9, 2017

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

We want to take TrendPie into other social media, including movie and television show trailers and sees Snapchat as a big opportunity since they don’t currently have support for influencers. We recently renovated our office space in Rhode Island, we’re setting up an internship, and hiring a sales team.

Oh and PS—Thanks Mom!

Get more insights in our Q&A series and suggest a Q&A at editor@brandchannel.com.

Subscribe to our free daily e-newsletter for more.

The post Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci appeared first on brandchannel:.

from WordPress https://glenmenlow.wordpress.com/2017/08/16/influencer-marketing-5-questions-with-trendpie-founder-victor-ricci/ via IFTTT

[markjsousa]

Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci

Bloggers, Instagrammers, Snapchatters and YouTube stars are taking over turf from celebrity influencers.

Bloomberg reports that $255 million is spent on influencer marketing every month, and this spend is set to grow to a $5B to $10B market.

TrendPie is a start-up offering social media campaigns and promotion to help connect users with clients’ apps and services. brandchannel sat down with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci, whose journey began the summer after his senior year of high school, after posting a six second “life hack” video to his Vine account, @QuickLifeHacks, using a water bottle to separate the white and yolk of an egg. From that surprising start, Ricci transitioned from social media stardom to launch TrendPie in April 2015 to connect brands to his network of non-celebrity online influencers. The key to his business model is right in the name, TrendPie, “Everyone can get a piece of the influencer marketing pie.”

What was the inspiration for that hack, and what followed?

I don’t like eggs—so I was playing around with a water bottle hack and made the video, and my mom said, “You should put that on your Twitter account”. I resisted and said nobody is going to care, that’s a stupid idea. But eventually I did and it went viral.

My Vine account grew every day after that, reaching more than 1.4 million followers and becoming one of the most followed accounts worldwide.

Companies started offering me $3,000 – $5,000 to feature their products, mostly gaming and app companies—smaller ones—younger and more progressive with their ads than the big guys. Apps that were already promoting on Vine like Game of War and Westbound, appealing to a millennial audience and looking to increase their bottom dollar with any means necessary.

Winston Churchill. http://pic.twitter.com/7jSF9bXMUz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 24, 2017

It’s a big change to move from social media stardom to go-between for brands and influencers. What was your motivation?

It was definitely a conscious change. I stopped enjoying being in front of the camera, stopped enjoying being an influencer. I didn’t like the image or the mentality or the lifestyle behind it. So one day I just stopped posting Vines. I had posted 196 Vines in about one and half years, posting every day, then every couple of days and then weekly. I just lost interest.

But I saw the value of it and knew I had the connections, and I’m passionate about social media and understand it pretty well along with apps—so I figured why not do something I’m passionate about and leverage everything learned up to this point?

Great advice we can all adhere to a bit better http://pic.twitter.com/bFmluMKAKf

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 23, 2017

You’ve said of TrendPie’s strategy, “I think of it kind of as the Wal-Mart approach. We charge less, but we do it everyday.” Please elaborate.

I figured, what these brands are paying me, there’s no way they’re making $3,000 – $5,000 on what I post, they’re not breaking even—probably even losing money, and the deals were inconsistent.

So I figured, instead of charging $5,000, we’ll charge 10% of that, $500, but we’ll do a post every single day. The brands will have more exposure for the same amount—they’ll make money—and have more money to spend in the long run.

I contacted a few of my influencer friends and pitched them the idea, and they all said “Yes, when do we start?”. I got a call from Joshua Anton wanting me to promote his Drunk Mode app on my Vine channel, which stops you from doing dumb things when you’re out drinking like blocking numbers so you can’t call your ex-girlfriend or your professor or your mother. It helps you find your friends and lets them know you’ve gotten home after a night out.

So we set up our first campaign for $2,000, and I rallied as many influencers as I could. Next day—the app was trending on the App Store. Josh was happy and booked another campaign, then 10 more and eventually we broke even. It validated what we were doing, and now Josh is a minority partner in TrendPie.

Case study for the Walk Against Humanity app. http://pic.twitter.com/AdJDHjE0mM

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 16, 2017

Social influencers have turned legacy celebrity marketing on its head—a paradigm shift from a Kim Kardashian getting $500,000 a post. Who are your network of influencers and what’s their profile?

The definition of celebrity has changed. Influencers are now celebrities in their own right. People with hundreds of thousands if not millions of followers are now celebrities just because they post videos of themselves putting on make-up. There’s something about that I’m just inherently against. But I was there and I understand it 100%. They’re playing the game. Some are more genuine than others—some not talented, while others are extremely talented—and over time, the ones with talent separate from the pack.

Gen Z’ers see these people on social media and they respect them, so they emulate them and want to follow the positive characteristics they see. They see someone massively popular on social media and follow them, and feel like they could be like that person. “I could get there.” It’s the American Dream in itself. People mimic the style, the colors, the imagery, and it gives many kids an identity and something to look up to, confidence to go outside their comfort zone.

Originality > Imitation http://pic.twitter.com/GrtveFAjqF

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 29, 2017

Looking ahead, will social media influencers replace celebrities, or will there always be both? And how will TrendPie change to meet them?

Both. There’s always going to be a high-end car like a Ferrari and people who buy them. But our model is disruptive—kind of like Tesla making the electric car for everyone.

An expenditure of $2000 with us gets you 2 million impressions—that’s a guaranteed minimum, but we’ve seen 4.5 million impressions from that spend since people just keep sharing and promoting our campaigns which are typically one day pushes—trending the next day, then a few days off—then repeat. In one campaign we pushed 50 million impressions in 24 hours.

Let's get you trending! http://pic.twitter.com/HvF0FR6egz

— trend pie (@trendpie) July 9, 2017

We want to take TrendPie into other social media, including movie and television show trailers and sees Snapchat as a big opportunity since they don’t currently have support for influencers. We recently renovated our office space in Rhode Island, we’re setting up an internship, and hiring a sales team.

Oh and PS—Thanks Mom!

Get more insights in our Q&A series and suggest a Q&A at editor@brandchannel.com.

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The post Influencer Marketing: 5 Questions with TrendPie Founder Victor Ricci appeared first on brandchannel:.

[riverdamien]

Stations of the Cross

Stations of the Cross

  “Small Pebbles”

                The Stations of the Cross are not about being in a building, the beautiful liturgy, or clergy and lay people. The Stations are what infuses us as believers and non-believers into a way of life of service and suffering.

                Each day as we celebrate the Eucharist, the words we repeat before receiving the bread and wine, “See who you are, become whom you see”, call us to becoming Jesus in his giving of his life in service to others. The closing prayer sums up our call:

“Triune God, in the transformation of bread and wine, let the Incarnate Christ be not only revealed to us, but in us, so that we may be transformed evermore-so into the Body of Christ. Lord Jesus, make my hands your hands,my feet your feet, my heart your heart. Let me see with you eyes, listen with your ears, speak with your lips, love with your heart, understand with your mind and serve with your will. By the power of the Spirit, make me your other self.”

                Each Station proclaims the meaning of our call: I. Stand firm; 2. Choose life. 3: Keep On-Never give up. 4. Share the Sorrow of others. 5. Step Forward in service. 6. Be there. 7. Up lift the broken. 8. Cry Justice. 9. Cry Compassion. 10. Cry Humanity. 11. Confront fear. 12. Letting Go of fears, and of life/Breaking Free.  Epilogue: He is Risen! We shall rise!

                The Stations call us to the Feast of caring: “This is the Lord’s Table,mysterious in its grace and transparent in its hospitality, caring not for gender, race, class, sexual orientation, faith in tradition, or marital status, exclusive only in its fierce commitment to all people (Invitation Temenos Catholic Worker Liturgy of Holy Communion.

                As you read the Stations, meditate on each one, may they become a living reality in your life and a call to the feast of caring. As you pray on each Station this next week imagine yourself as Jesus, and how he feels; as on of the soldiers; and as one of the bystanders. Enter into the story, and as you do meditate on what God is calling you to do in your life. You may call us at any time or email us, and we will be glad to spend time with you on this journey. River+

Small Pebbles

Mark 4:26-34 English Standard Version (ESV)

The Parable of the Seed Growing

26 And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. 27 He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. 28 The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”

The Parable of the Mustard Seed

30 And he said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? 31 It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, 32 yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

33 With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. 34 He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.

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    Standing in front of City Hall in San Francisco, one is overwhelmed by its size, beauty, and the power it contains. It is from here that millions are given for the homeless and disenfranchised. Each year millions are spent, and each year the misery on the streets continues.

    Each spring and throughout the summer there is a spot in the County Park in Marinwood where we walk. In a corner between the fence and the path, nasturtiums and morning glory vines grow and flourish. Our grandmother planted both as we were growing up, and our memory returns to those years of nurture and love. They are small pebbles reminding us of love, a love that continues to flow in our veins. Small pebbles like the mustard seed speak to us through the portals of time. They continue to blossom, ever so slowly.

    Recently we received an email from a lady we had encountered late one night on Polk. We had simply bought her a meal and spent time chatting. We had no memories of that night. That was years ago. She wrote, “That one meal saved my life. I found life worth living in those moments with you.” 

    Small pebbles cast like mustard seed.

    There are few opportunities for grand gestures, but we can practice what Dorothy Day called “pebbles” of kindness. 

    In the area around City Hall, moving out into the neighborhood, we are surrounded by misery. People sleeping on the street. Minds blazing on drugs. Drug dealing on our corners.

    Jesus began his journey to Calvary, and invites us to journey with him, adding our light to the sum of his, and giving small “pebbles” of kindness to others. 

Dear God,

I so much want to be in control.

I want to be the master of my own destiny.

Still I know that you are saying:

“Let me take you by the hand and lead you.

Accept my love

and trust that where I will bring you,

the deepest desires of your heart will be fulfilled.”

Lord, open my hands to receive your gift of love.

Amen. Father Henri Nouwen

Station 1: Jesus Condemned to Death

    Jesus is condemned to die when we sit with complacency, passing the buck to others, and simply throwing up our hands. Ugandan Theologian Emmanuel Katongole reminds us:

“Mary represents the ‘rebel consciousness’ that is essential to Jesus’ gospel. Wherever the gospel is preached, we must remember that its good news will make you crazy. Jesus will put you at odds with the economic and political systems of our world. This gospel will force you to act, interrupting the world as it is in ways that make even pious people indignant.”

    Homeless campsites are being moved out of parks, our doorways, and people are scared. They lose all they have in one sweep, with nowhere to go.  In Santa Rosa, one of the largest camp sites was removed from near a hiking trail and suburban housing, and shelter could only be offered to a third of the population. Residents rejoiced; they could now hike in safety and without seeing the homeless. Out of sight, out of mind.

    Alex is an eighteen-year-old black young man from our area who is HIV positive. His parents kicked him out because of “the sin he brought into his life.” He has had difficulty in finding services, and panhandles on the corner near our public library. People walk by ignoring or condemning, while some offer money. A small pebble of caring through talking, giving money, time, and food makes all the difference to Alex.

    In Alex and the people in the tents in Santa Rosa, Jesus is condemned to die. His innocence enters into the humanity of those ignored, shunned, condemned, and despised. 

Let us pray:

While we sat in darkness, Lord Jesus Christ, you interrupted us with your life. Make us, your people, a holy interruption so that by your Spirit’s power we may live as a light to the nations, even as we stumble through this world’s dark night. Amen. (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals).

 Station 2: Jesus Carries His Cross

    Jesus was forced to carry the cross upon which he would be nailed, ridiculed, and executed. What does it represent? It represents that, for his journey he takes up the weight of all of our crosses: all of our senseless suffering and the weight of all the sin in the world, past, present and future.  

    Kobe Bryant describes his journey: “When I was young, my mindset was image, image, image. I took that approach with the media. As I became more experienced I realized that no matter what, people are going to like you or not like you. So be authentic, and let them like you or not for who you actually are. At that point, I started keeping all of my answers blunt and straightforward. I would mix in some humor and sarcasm, too. I think fans and reporters came to appreciate that, came to appreciate the real me.”

    A number of years ago a young friend was using Father River’s car. He took it to his private school with an ounce of marijuana, and was somehow caught. River told the school it was his marijuana, which resulted in losing financial support, reputation, and nearly legal consequences. This young man is now in law school which, with that incident on his record, may not have happened. Temenos stands with young men on trial for murder, without judgment, and with the hope they will find new life. It is not about being co-dependent, immature, or idealistic. It is about, like Kobe Bryant, learning to be authentic. It means taking up the cross, always seeing the best in people, and giving them second, third, and fourth chances. It means taking them for who are, and walking with them without applying our expectations of how they should live their lives upon them. It means walking with them as equals. 

   Bearing the cross of Jesus on the street means withholding our judgment of those we see. It means getting to know each one, and sometimes being hurt personally. It means to love them, and advocate for each one. It means walking with them as equals and casting out small pebbles in faith.

“Things are topsy-turvy in your kingdom, God. The poor bear gifts of great worth, the dead rise, the meek inherit the earth. Teach us how to live in an upside-down world where we are called to welcome the outcast, prepare a feast for the ragged, and forgive those who offend.” Amen (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals).

Station 3: Jesus Falls the First Time

    In your imagination can you see a friend, or yourself, fall to the ground? The cross became too much for Jesus and he fell, powerless in the moment. Jesus falls each day in the homeless who suffer from mental illness and drug abuse.

    In San Francisco, the estimated statistics are that 37% suffer from alcohol/drug abuse, and 35% from mental illness. It is difficult to separate these two figures because they both play into each other.

    In the story of the Gerasenes demoniac from the book of Mark, we read: 

“5 They came to the other side of the  sea,to the country of the Gerasenes.[a] 2 And  when Jesus[b] had stepped out  of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean  spirit. 3 He lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him  anymore, not even with a chain, 4 for he had often been bound  with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the  shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to subdue him. 5 Night  and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and  cutting himself with stones. 6 And when he saw Jesus from  afar, he ran and fell down before him. 7 And crying out with  a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most  High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” 8 For he  was saying to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” 9 And  Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion, for we  are many.” 10 And he begged him earnestly not to send them  out of the country. 11 Now a great herd of pigs was feeding  there on the hillside, 12 and they begged him, saying, “Send  us to the pigs; let us enter them.” 13 So he gave them  permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the pigs; and the  herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea  and drowned in the sea.

14 The herdsmen fled and told it in the city and  in the country. And people came to see what it was that had happened. 15 And  they came to Jesus and saw the demon-possessed[c] man, the one who  had had the legion, sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, and they  were afraid. 16 And those who had seen it described to them  what had happened to the demon-possessed man and to the pigs. 17 And  they began to beg Jesus[d] to depart from  their region. 18 As he was getting into the boat, the man who  had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him. 19 And  he did not permit him but said to him, “Go home to your friends and tell them  how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” 20 And  he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done  for him, and everyone marveled.

        This is the scene we see on the streets daily. Healing those who suffer from mental illness was a part of the ministry of Jesus. It should, by extension, be a part of our own. All of us have something to contribute, including those without professional or pastoral expertise in mental health care. We do not have to be therapists, but we must be the face of Jesus.

    Mental illness has biological causes, but it also impacts one’s spiritual life: the ability to find meaning. We all have a role to play in helping others restore their confidence, find support, and rediscover their value. 

     We all fail in our care of the mentally ill and addicted, but Father Henry Nouwen calls us in these words to get up and to love deeply:

“Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply. You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love even more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds.”

    In the same way, we fail each time we criticize or condemn someone that we disagree with or simply do not like. Today it was announced that Rush Limbaugh has lung cancer, and many responses put forth have been to wish him much suffering and some death. Growing up we were friends with Mr. Limbaugh’s family; his granddad was a partner in a law firm with my best friend’s dad. They are conservative, but very decent people. When my dad was dying from lung cancer himself, the Limbaugh family often gave my mother and me a place to stay.  

    Through the years I have received death threats, along with all sorts of painful “shit” said to me at first through the phone, then email, and now social media. For the most part, these come from people who do not know me. Those words hurt and tear me apart. What I have learned through my experience, and the pain in the experience of others who have been hurt by the judgment of people, is that only in caring and loving each other can we truly find wholeness and happiness. Judgment belongs to God! 

Station 4: Jesus Meets His Mother

    As we reflect upon the fourth station of the cross we can hear Mary saying: 

“As I pushed and shoved to move through the crowds to be as close to my son as I could, we came to a place in the road where he stopped. He saw me. And we looked into each others eyes. I didn’t want him to see my tears or know my pain, but I long ago accepted how thoroughly he knew me. The love from my heart poured out in the only embrace I could give him. My lips quietly said the prayer he taught us, “Father, may your Kingdom come and your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” He nodded so slightly, took a deep breath and moved on up the hill. The sword passing through my heart had blessed his mission and I knew he knew it. Thank him with me, even now, that he took up that mission for us. Thank him that he has tasted the separation and loss that every person in the world knows who has lost a loved one. And, he has understood the heart of every loving mother who grieves at the suffering of her children. He has become completely at one with us” From “Stations” Ignatian Press.

    As Jesus looked into Mary’s heart, so he looks into ours. With those eyes that are completely one with us, he speaks with so much love: 

“Consult your own heart and decide what kind of person you want to be. You have a brief journey on this planet: how will you treat yourself, your work, and those you meet along the way? Your values are not what you say, but how you treat people, how you run meetings, whom you hire, how you treat your child who wants to play when you come home exhausted, whether you inconvenience yourself to support your friends, and how you react in a host of daily moments such as how you treat homeless people on the street, if you feed the homeless, advocate and provide housing, and health care for those who have none.” ( The Ignatian Book of Days).

    St. Ignatius said that love ought to be shown in deeds rather than in words.

  If your deeds could speak, what statement did you make in the past twenty four hours?

Let us pray:

Savior of the world, save us from our sins, our sadness, and our self-deception. Give us courage to live in a world we cannot fix with hope that has already been redeemed. Amen.

 Station 5:  Simon Helps Jesus Carry His Cross

    For a moment reflect upon what it must have been like for Jesus to simply not be able to carry the cross any farther alone. A stranger was asked to assist him.  Jesus came to know the experience of depending upon others.

    We all depend on one another. Look around and see the individuals on the street, in the doorways, and meditate for a moment on the words of Thomas Merton:

“I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine, and I theirs, so that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness. .”

How would our day be different if we could see every person as God’s beloved child?

Let us pray:

“O God most holy, in Jesus Christ you have laid a foundation upon which to build our lives: Help us to follow your perfect law of love, that we may fulfill it and observe it to the end. Amen.” (Revised Common Lectionary Prayer, page 6).

Station 6: Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus

    On the face of Jesus was spit, blood, and violence. As Veronica wiped his face she saw the depth of his solidarity, his union with us in our suffering and rejection.

   We are reminded of a young man, on a Snickers TV commercial, who was paid a fee to go out and give people Snickers bars. As he gave them out, his face shined and he commented, “I spend the majority of my time on social media, and this is really fun, interacting one on one with ‘real people.’” Our smart phones, computers, and social media cut us off from face to face contact. We become robots, have no sense of union and solidarity with others, no sense of the suffering of others, and of sharing our own suffering.

    St. Ignatius teaches us “indifference.” He describes letting our lives center on God, being of service to others, simply serving and giving of ourselves. We do not worry about the costs, effectiveness, expectations, and criticisms of others--we simply give of ourselves in service.

    Veronica wiping the face of Jesus symbolizes our caring for people in the name of Jesus without expectation. Each night thousands of people of all ages sleep on our streets, suffer because of no food, health insurance, and, more importantly, suffer because of their lack of love. People suffer because of our robot response.

    Veronica calls us to care for each other in our personal interactions, in simple ways, in our one on one relationships. Rather than worry about our present, past, future, our health, and well-being, let us live and enjoy each moment of life, and care for each person we come in contact with. Let us give out Snickers all day long! Let us pray: 

    Jesus, our vocation comes out of who we are now, which is our greatest strength and our greatest need. You call us to follow you. We are not pointed on the road to independence, but through our weakness are reminded to keep following you or we will otherwise be lost. You are the Savior we need. Amen.

Station 7: Jesus Falls the Second Time

        As Jesus progressed towards Calvary he became tired emotionally and physically, and fell a second time. People, many of whom had supported and hailed him on Palm Sunday, were now yelling threats of condemnation and hatred. People are fickle, and when we are in crowds of those like us, we stick together.

    We see this in the divisions of our society. The wealthy, the upper middle class, and the middle class white privileged people stay separate. People of color stay in their groups. The  homeless huddle together in theirs. Youth and young adults form their groups. We are afraid to cross over our boundaries; in not doing so, we fail to understand each other, and fail to be each other’s brother and sister. 

    Jesus breaks down boundaries, which is one of the reasons he is carrying the cross. He recognizes that each of us, in the words of Douglas Preston, has “a Monster within, [and] the difference is in the degree, not in kind.”  Jesus fell under the weight of that knowledge. 

    He calls us to open our eyes to each other, get out of our boundaries, and love one other. He calls us to break across our borders and see each person as an equal, all on the same journey, all needing support.

    During this election year we see, hear, and feel the divide among people. Painful and hateful words are said, and one can see there is a “Monster within, the difference is in the degree” of each of us. 

    Our friend, the Reverend Gregory Weeks, wrote a blog article, and one that personally all of us should take to heart. Reflect upon his words. Remember Jesus falling under the weight of the cross, and the rejection by his brothers and sisters:

Christian Values and the Presidency--By the Reverend Gregory Weeks:

“After witnessing the recent State of the Union speech and its aftermath, I’ve made a resolution.

In the election of our next president, I no longer care much about political party, nor even about a conservative or liberal orientation. Rather, after the votes are tallied in November, I hope the result will be the election of a president who embodies at least a few Christian values.

While there may be disagreement between the right and the left in terms of what those values may be, I’m talking about the ones that are non-debatable. They’re what Jesus laid out in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). He said his disciples should be: Compassionate. Merciful. Humble. Honest. Moral. Non-judgmental. Courageous. Peace-loving. Forgiving. Devout. Disciplined. Self-aware.

He never limited these values to only the populace and not the leaders. Nor did he say that to embrace such characteristics you had to affirm creeds or dogma. Simply put: to live in the kingdom of this world as his disciple, you must live as if the kingdom of God really matters.

So, regardless of party or even religion, I want our next president to claim such a moral stance.

This sounds idealistic and naïve, given the hard realities of political life. A good leader must also be smart, politically savvy, experienced, and a strategic thinker. The person must also know when to compromise for a greater good, such as when armed conflict may be the only alternative.

Yet, I will feel a lot more comfortable knowing that the most powerful person in the world has a solid moral base.

Having a moral base promotes a broader vision rather than a narrow one. Christian values transcend national boundaries and party lines. They are the glue bonding the whole of human society.

Also, someone who lives out such values is a person I can trust. They have integrity. I will more likely believe what they say without having to first fact check it.

Finally, if a president’s values align with those preached by Jesus, then the values will impact policies. Immigration. Relations with the international community. Equal rights. Climate. Health care. Business regulations. Policies reflect priorities, and priorities should arise from what someone holds as sacred truths.

So, in the ensuing debates, caucuses, and election, I’ll be re-reading Jesus’ first sermon as a refresher. I hope whoever wins in November will do the same. If so, regardless of the person’s creed or lack thereof, I’ll sleep better. If they share values Jesus thought was important, that’s good enough for me.”

    Let us remember that each of us can plant small pebbles of Love!

Station 8: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem

    Jesus, in his own pain, comforts a group of women who greet him along the way to Calvary. They try to comfort him, but he looks on them with love and compassion and their hearts are transformed, as they see their mission is that of love and compassion without judgment. It is good to reflect here, with him, on the mission each of us has; it can be shaped by this encounter with his suffering, death, and resurrection. 

    Terrence McGrath, a wealthy Piedmont resident, opened his $4 million home to a homeless couple last year. Mr. McGrath entered into an agreement with the couple that they would find jobs and get their own place. In living with them, though, he has learned several things. First, that his exclusive neighbors would not understand, and have been afraid. Second, that ending homelessness is not a matter of getting a job or “tough love.” This couple has been homeless for several generations, the daughter is homeless.  

    McGrath has learned that the root of homelessness has many facets; it is not just a housing problem. Not everyone has the capacity, physical or mental, to do what it takes to support themselves.

    McGrath, in the evolution of his thoughts on homelessness, has given them his word he will not kick them out. If he moves, he will provide for them. 

    The street is about survival, an existence that’s physically and mentally draining. Homelessness breaks down minds, bodies, and hearts. Recovering from that drama takes more than four walls, but walls help tremendously. McGrath has made a commitment to them: “I’ll never abandon them. I’m never going to not finish with them.”

    Jesus is never finished with us! He will never abandon us!  

    It is good to reflect here, with him, on the mission each of us has that can be shaped by this encounter with his suffering, death, and resurrection, “for me”. Thank him for this brief time to recall the gift we have received and ask yourself, what small pebbles we can cast?

“The street transforms every ordinary day into a series of quick questions and every incorrect answer risks a beat down, shooting or pregnancy.” (author unkown)

Let us pray:

“Lord, show us that reconciling with those we imagine different from us is not only for peace, but also for training us more deeply in the faith that honors everything created by your hand. Help us see that reconciliation leads us to deeper knowledge of you. Amen. (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals by Shane Claiborne)

Station 9: Jesus Falls the Third Time

    This final fall is one we will always remember. Having endured a beating and losing so much blood, Jesus is so weak he falls a third time. He appears dead lying on the ground. His arms spread out, Jesus found solidarity with all who fall any way. 

    Remembering how the soldiers roughly pull Jesus up and made him take his last steps to Calvary, we identify with individuals who are in our door ways: the mentally ill and those beaten down by drug abuse and by mistreatment in general. They are dirty, lying face down in the dirt. Many will never be able to get up again and live as we imagine they should live. The truth is that life sucks, and we often do not draw the higher card. We fall, we cannot get up.

    As Jesus understands our every weakness, especially those we cannot overcome, let us express gratitude for his understanding. Let us pray that we, too, may understand the weakness of our brothers and sisters whose weaknesses lay them flat on the ground. Let us, in the name of Jesus, provide housing, health care, and food for every person, without exception. 

Let us pray:

O Great Love, thank you for living and loving in us and through us. May all that we do flow from our deep connection with you and all beings. Help us become a community that vulnerably shares each other’s burdens and the weight of glory. Listen to our hearts’ longings for the healing of our world. [Please add your own intentions.] . . . Knowing you are hearing us better than we are speaking, we offer these prayers in all the holy names of God, amen. Fr. Richard Rhor

Station 10: Jesus Is Stripped

    Jesus was stripped. Can you imagine how violated Jesus felt when he was stripped naked. They intended to shame him by crucifying him with no clothes. They simply had to strip him of any dignity he had left.

    As we read of the journey of undocumented immigrants on our borders and in our cities, we see them stripped of their dignity. They are placed in “camps” and treated as if they are POW’s. This is not just something happening now. The United States has isolated and imprisoned immigrants from day one, mostly people of color. 

    We see the homeless being treated with “tough love”, being pushed into shelters where food and living conditions are unacceptable, and living on our streets.

     Nelson Mandela once said: “To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”  If we truly want to be free, our lives must be lived with seeking to respect and encourage the freedom of the dispossessed, the poor, the immigrants, and minorities.

    Thomas Merton described one of the best ways to strip ourselves of our ego and our fears, and in so doing, completely identify with those who suffer, like Jesus did:

“Humility consists in being precisely the person you actually are before God, and since no two people are alike, if you have the humility to be yourself you will not be like anyone else in the universe. It is not humility to insist on being someone that you are not. It is as much as saying that you know better than God who you are and who you ought to be. How do you expect to arrive at the end of your own journey if you take the road to another person’s city? How do you expect to reach your own perfection by leading someone else’s life?” 

    May we lead our lives being who we are, acknowledging that we all are on the same journey and are entitled to the same benefits. Let us cast pebbles of love and, in so doing, touch the lives of all in creation.  Let us pray:

Jesus, as we see you stripped and humiliated, we are reminded that to identify with you, we too must be stripped of our ego, our self-centeredness, and live our lives as we are, with no pretenses. In so doing, we become one with you and with our brothers and sisters everywhere. Amen.

Station 11: Jesus  Nailed to the Cross

    We wear crosses made out of precious metal,  some with diamonds encased, and they are lovely. But the cross Jesus was  nailed to was made of rugged wood, and crude nails were hammered into  his hands and feet. 

    The very hands that healed so many were  held open; nails were driven in, causing them to gush blood. The look on his  face gave a glimpse of the spasms of pain which ran through his body.

    Jesus was nailed to the cross not as an  atonement, a sacrifice for our individual sins. He was crucified as one who  is seeking to restore justice through demonstrating his absolute love for  humanity, calling each of us to seek restoration of our lives and society.

    Retribution is seen in our world through our  methods of dealing with people on the margins. When we see people on the  street—the mentally ill, the drug abusers, the people of color, the  poor--come to the surface, we are afraid, and seek retribution. It’s our way  of pushing aside what we choose not to see or deal with.  Our prisons  are full of people of color and the poor.

    We can talk about “social justice,” and  “peace and justice,” in general terms. It gives us goosebumps as we see  social justice as packing food, giving used clothes to people, and sharing  food that  is given to us by the food bank from behind a table. We feel  good as we go home to our nice apartments and houses, visiting with our  wonderful friends, believing we have done our part. Just gives us  goose bumps!

    But Jesus tells us to “Take up your cross”  and “follow me.” His call is for each of us to walk the streets, to pound on  the doors of politicians, to give people housing, to provide for medical  treatment and food. To walk with them as Jesus, who is nailed to the Cross,  and in so doing, point to the Resurrection and to restoration.

    When we reach the bottom, we are experiencing  what it means to be “poor in spirit” (Matthew 5:3), where we have no  privilege to prove or protect but much to seek and become. Jesus calls such  people “blessed,” and Dorothy Day said as much in these words:

“The only way to live in any true security is to live so close  to the bottom that when you fall you do not have too far to drop, you do not  have much to lose.”  

     Let us become as small pebbles being cast into  the sea of restoration.

Let us pray:

God, as we meditate on Jesus being nailed to the cross and his  pain, we ask that our changed lives can be open to love. His willingness to  suffer for humanity moves us to follow him and give ourselves away as well,  becoming “poor in spirit.” In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Station 12: Jesus Dies on the Cross and Jesus  is Laid in the Tomb

    Jesus struggled to breathe, pulling himself  up to let air into his lungs. As he hung on the cross, he spoke of mercy and  love, forgiving the thief and his enemies. With his last breath he died.

    As we have moved through the Tenderloin we  have seen people selling drugs, begging for food, and sleeping in the  doorways and in the alleys. We see life and we see death. 

    We see Jesus being laid in his tomb. As we  picture this scene, let us place the image of the empty tomb before our eyes.  Whenever we stand outside of any tomb and grieve, remember this empty tomb.  Know that through the eyes of faith, all tombs are empty. Through the eyes of  faith we can become Christ and empty the tombs of hunger, homelessness,  meaningless, and want.

    Oscar Romero speaks to us in these moments:

“We live in a time of struggle between truth and lies, between  sincerity, which almost no one believes still, and hypocrisy and intrigue.  Let’s not be afraid brothers and sisters; let’s try to be sincere, to love  truth; let’s try to model ourselves on Christ Jesus. It is time for us to  have a great sense of selection, of discernment.”

     How will we practice Christ Jesus’  way of love, justice, and truth this day? How can we be small pebbles in the  world?

     Join me in signing ourselves with  the sign of his cross, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.  We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy Cross you have  redeemed the world. Amen.

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Fr. River Damien Sims.  sfw, DMin. D.S.T

www.temenos/org.

415-305-2124

[riverdamien]

Stations of the Cross-Introduction

Sunday, March 29, 2020 Fifth Sunday in Lent John 11:25-26 “Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” Last night around 2 a.m. there was a knock on the door, and two of my nineteen year old friends from Palo Alto came bouncing in carrying their skate boards, and basically begged me to go boarding, and out we went; this afternoon I was surrounded by youth in the Park, afraid, unsure, of all that was going on, and we simply hung out; tonight I was in Marin taking a lady her certification of service hours for court and my friend Matt, who is 20, wanted to go to a store in Vallejo, and at first I was reluctant, but we went; came back and saw my 18 year old friend Cale; earlier I had taken a graduation gift to another friend, and wondered if he would appreciate it, and then thought, it is my gift to him and there is joy in the giving, and I feel good; I was struck by the thought: This. It. The meaning of the resurrection and the new life offered for all—this is the gift of belief in Jesus for all. Albert Schweitzer’s quote came to mind: “ I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know; The only one’s among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.” This is God’s love in Christ for us: to live in unity, joy, and peace. To simply live freely, and joyfully. This. Is. It. We begin our journey to Calvary. Every three days or so I will present two or three of our Stations of the Cross. On Good Friday I will do the Stations, if individuals choose to come, I will have much joy, but in light of the present situation will not be asking anyone; instead you are invited to follow with us at Noon on Good Friday. So as we begin our journey towards the climax of Lent let us each day reflect upon the Stations of the Cross, and the Seven Last Words of Jesus: Small Pebbles Tenderloin Stations of the Cross 2020 Introduction: City Hall Small Pebbles Mark 4:26-34 English Standard Version (ESV) The Parable of the Seed Growing 26 And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. 27 He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. 28 The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.” The Parable of the Mustard Seed 30 And he said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? 31 It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, 32 yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” 33 With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. 34 He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Standing in front of City Hall in San Francisco, one is overwhelmed by its size, beauty, and the power it contains. It is from here that millions are given for the homeless and disenfranchised. Each year millions are spent, and each year the misery on the streets continues. Each spring and throughout the summer there is a spot in the County Park in Marinwood where we walk. In a corner between the fence and the path, nasturtiums and morning glory vines grow and flourish. Our grandmother planted both as we were growing up, and our memory returns to those years of nurture and love. They are small pebbles reminding us of love, a love that continues to flow in our veins. Small pebbles like the mustard seed speak to us through the portals of time. They continue to blossom, ever so slowly. Recently we received an email from a lady we had encountered late one night on Polk. We had simply bought her a meal and spent time chatting. We had no memories of that night. That was years ago. She wrote, “That one meal saved my life. I found life worth living in those moments with you.” Small pebbles cast like mustard seed. There are few opportunities for grand gestures, but we can practice what Dorothy Day called “pebbles” of kindness. In the area around City Hall, moving out into the neighborhood, we are surrounded by misery. People sleeping on the street. Minds blazing on drugs. Drug dealing on our corners. Jesus began his journey to Calvary, and invites us to journey with him, adding our light to the sum of his, and giving small “pebbles” of kindness to others. Dear God, I so much want to be in control. I want to be the master of my own destiny. Still I know that you are saying: “Let me take you by the hand and lead you. Accept my love and trust that where I will bring you, the deepest desires of your heart will be fulfilled.” Lord, open my hands to receive your gift of love. Amen. Father Henri Nouwen STATONS OF THE CROSS EXMIN STYLE In the last year I’ve wanted to get to know Jesus more deeply by focusing on the many trials he experienced at the end of his life. So I began applying a variation of the Examen—a reflective devotional exercise described in St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises—to the Stations of the Cross. I make it a 15-day exercise (I always add the Resurrection to the 14 Stations), focusing on just one Station a day on my commute home, Monday through Friday. This adds up to a three-week exercise, and it has helped me not only to decompress on the way home but to engage in my relationship with Jesus in new ways. Oh, and to make sure I remember to do this exercise, I set an alarm on my phone as a reminder! I invite you to do the same. You can approach this reflection at any time in your day, before or after work or dropping off the kids, wherever you are in your life’s journey. Here are five simple steps, derived from the Examen, to help you unlock the Stations of the Cross in a practical, contemplative, and reflective way. Step 1: Choose a Station. Let’s say we’re focusing on Jesus taking up his Cross. You can read a passage from the Bible that correlates to that scene or simply picture an image in your mind. Then take a few deep breaths and ask God to help you quiet your head and open your heart. Often we only try to focus on getting rid of all the mental chatter inside of us, but it’s also important to place our attention on the waves of emotions and feelings inside us. Something in you might resist focusing—you may feel tired, nervous, or angry, but that’s okay. Allow yourself to find a level of openness that is true to you. Step 2: Remind yourself that God is all around you. He’s inside you and outside you and his heart beats in yours. Try to feel that reality as best as you can. Then take the picture of Jesus carrying his Cross, and imagine placing the image inside you. Let it take root in you. Step 3: Ask the Holy Spirit to rise up inside you and give you the wisdom to acknowledge God in your life. Ask the Spirit to help you meditate on the scene inside you. How do you think Jesus felt when this was happening? What was he thinking? What is your cross to bear? How heavy is it? How does it affect your relationship with God? Step 4: Review your day. Where did your cross feel the heaviest today? Where did you encounter the cross on the shoulders of others at work, on the news, or in the streets? Where is God in these encounters? Ask God to make you more aware and compassionate of others and yourself. Step 5: Give thanks to God for the opportunity to know Jesus better, and ask God to help you to become more aware of the crosses that everyone carries in life. Image by Enrique López-Tamayo Bio Fr. River Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T P.O. Box 642656 San Francisco, CA 94164 www.temenos.org 415