#but the point still stands that - in essence - people are seemingly Very uncomfortable with the notion of intellectual disability

[ceramicbeetle]

idk if i can fully articulate this but i find it like, Interesting how often people seem to flinch away from the notion of a character having a genuine difficulty in academic settings that is caused by Intellect — how often people will seemingly try to get around the idea by writing something that amounts to, like “No this character is Smart, they just struggle with XYZ and if they were Accommodated for that, then they wouldn’t struggle in school” but it’s like,, why do they Have to be ‘smart’ though?

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 62: Exploration

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Sixty-Two: Exploration

Note: I'm enjoying getting so many longer chapters in. Feels good!

(-~-)

The temple was comprised of a menagerie of different corridors and rooms, all of which possessing their own highly specific use case or purpose. Intricate engravings and pictographs adorned almost every visible wall, betraying the truly ancient history of such a grand structure. And although none of it was easily understandable to the average person, It was still more than enough to be able to admire and respect the historical contribution that works like these could pose to the people of this kingdom, and to the rest of the world by extension if they knew anything about it. But perhaps it was best that it stayed as it was, guarded and untouched by the people who it belonged to. In an unknown state. While it was true that some history belonged in a museum, was it truly history if the people who created it or took part in it its creation were still protecting it? Still dying for it?

In some places the walls were painted, but most laid bare, the markings adorning them being the only thing that made them stand out as opposed to a simple stone wall. And that was appropriate considering the fact that most of the walls were still bare, a few spots in the process of being worked on seemingly being abandoned part of the way through. Or maybe that was how they were supposed to look? It was hard to say. He was no anthropologist, and he'd never seen anything like this before.

But it's fascinating as all of them was, and is right as Lucia have been when she said that he might appreciate her people's culture more than his brother probably would, the eldest of the Dark Knight Sparda's twin sons have to admit that they were nothing more than a pleasant distraction in the midst of what would otherwise be a complicated and dangerous situation. Well, it would be if Lucia hadn't been there. She seemed to navigate the retrofitted temple with relative ease, whereas he found himself considering routes or options that were ostensibly the worst possible method to get to where they needed to go. 

And that was the other issue: He had no idea where they were going. 

He was so used to what he was looking for being straight ahead of him in one way or another that he hadn't even really considered it. And with nothing in the way of a challenge to do battle against within the walls of the building, he just found himself sort of quietly following along behind her, taking in the sights and attempting to not seem like the fidgety child that he felt like at the moment. 

It had been a while since things had gone this…  smoothly. It wasn't that things had been easy, it was that they had been relatively straightforward. They made sense. And while the cacophonous and winding always reminded him of the demonic tower that he had helped raise so long ago, this was clearly an entirely different set of people in an entirely different setting. Its craftsmanship easily rivaled that of the tower, but there was just something decidedly more exotic about this location. It was almost exciting. A part of him genuinely enjoyed it, at least for the time being. He was still quietly waiting for something to go horribly wrong. But at this point, was that anticipation, or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Were his very thoughts causing him to carry out actions that would lead to the negative outcome that he was imagining, or was he actually that unlucky most of the time? A question for the philosophers.

"Am I to assume that we are headed to an antechamber of sorts?" It was a good guess based on the structure's presumed layout.

Lucia looked back at him, her red hair blowing behind her as a small gust of wind tossed it about. Little shoots had been cut into the sides of the ceilings in some places, allowing air to pass into the chambers without having access to windows of any sort. It was a clever bit of ventilation considering when the building must have been constructed. And it was probably the only way that most demons could get in, which explained why a lot of them were so small and why they had encountered so few of them.

"Correct. Each of the Arcana is kept in a different portion of the temple behind its own unique protections. We're almost to the one that houses the Arcana Spada."

Placing the torch that she had lit when they had entered the structure in a notch in the wall, She fiddled with a slot in the wall nearest to her. Moments later, a sliding door of sorts opened, rolling out of the way and allowing a second door behind it to lift up out of the floor into the ceiling. It was an ingenious bit of engineering, and Vergil was admittedly curious as to how it functioned. Being alive during the period in which many of these sorts of structures had been built must have been interesting. What could they have learned from these long-forgotten civilizations? The technology used to build this structure seem to be leagues ahead of where it should have been at the time, and much could be said about the Temen Ni Gru. Had their dealings with demons allowed them some sort of knowledge in regards to these sorts of matters that he was unaware of? It seemed that technology had taken a massive step backward after the Hellgates had been closed. What an interesting if not unfortunate circumstance.

Following the young guardian into the antechamber that was hidden behind the doors, it occurred to Vergil that unlike seemingly every other structure he vented, this antechamber was actually located off to the side in an innocuous room instead of in a grand hall in the center of the building. It seemed that they had taken a few clues from some other ancient civilizations in that regard.

Nothing specific came to mind, but he could remember some civilizations doing things that were similar to this in a bid to keep grave robbers away. Some even went as far as booby-trapping what would otherwise be the central area of the tomb or temple just to punish those who attempted to actually break-in. A devious plan that he wholeheartedly approved of. At the very least, you should be allowed to have peace and rest undisturbed after death. There was a special place in hell for grave robbers. He should know. He'd probably seen them when he was down there.

"And what is the significance of this specific Arcana? Why would someone steal it? I assume that it is ritualistic in nature? But it has a secondary use, does it not? Something that causes it to stand out in comparison to the others?" He followed her up the steep, well-worn ramp, noting the abundance of colors and pictographs as he hurried along. Everything that he was now seeing was better preserved than the rest of the temple, which was saying something when how well the structure was kept up was taken into consideration.

Obviously taking a moment to consider what he had just asked her, she paused momentarily to looked around the room, torch in hand. She then stepped forward and began to light some of these sconces along the edge of the wall, eliminating a pillar in the center of the structure. What seemed to be a skylight bloomed over them, but it was currently closed by a large stone dome, so there would be no natural light tonight. The structure was interesting and seemed reminiscent of an altar of some sort.

"You are right. The Arcana is special. While the others were contributed by different groups of our people, the blade was contributed by your father. Its composition is different, and I would not be surprised to learn that he had crafted it himself. The materials seem to be demonic, and have properties to match. The same essence, in a way of speaking.” She gestured towards the room they were in. In the center was a pedestal with some sort of intricate holding apparatus. That must have been the blade’s housing apparatus. “My mother might know more about that, but it would be invaluable in a ritualistic setting. I believe that it is no accident that it found its way into your son's body."

Vergil nodded. That made sense to him, unfortunately. Demons were always after artifacts that his father had either helped create or had at one time owned. His wards and spells had a strong hold on much of the demotic world, and as such getting a hold of something that he had created were used to create something else was generally considered a fable use of time. He didn't need to know the precise secondary use case of the blade to know that if it had been created by his father then it should not fall into the hands of the devil prince.

Upon entering the room himself, a wave of what he could only describe as heavy familiarity hit him. If nostalgia had a sensation, it would be this place despite never having stepped within it before today. The feeling that had been outside in the courtyard was amplified by several dozen times in here to the point where it was almost suffocating, and yet he didn't feel threatened by it or even uncomfortable. Lucia seemed to be somewhat puzzled by its presents, wish she was otherwise undisturbed. 

There was no mistaking it: this had his father's influence all over it.

(-~-)

The Ludwig family had acted swiftly upon receiving his phone call, coming to his location with clearly supernatural speed. They had taken the young adjudicator into their care immediately and had insisted upon doing the same with V in order to ascertain the status of his curse. He had taken little consideration as to his own well-being in the adrenaline field panic that he had been in, and both his admittedly minimal injuries and his slowly progressing curse had been put to the wayside for the time being.

It had been decided that they would hold him until the morning. Magnolia and Flora would be returning to his home anyway, so if this was to be the outcome, then he could easily return with them at that point in time. Perhaps they would get lucky and Sirrus would recover by then? It was probably wishful thinking on his part, but he desperately felt the need to do something, anything to help his companion recover. He had done the same for him. It was the least he could do given the circumstances. He didn't like seeing people who were kind to him suffer.

But upon arriving and being seen by a physician, there had been quite the commotion. He hadn't caught the specifics of the details, but it seemed that they were something extraordinary about Sirrus's blood loss that required an extra amount of care and attention to be shown to it. It was something nebulous from what he could tell like a shortage of a certain blood type, or something equally as strange. Whatever the case may be, it seemed that his blood was not compatible with anything that they currently had on hand and that his body's ability to regenerate its own supply had been hindered somewhat. Stabilizing him had been hellish and troublesome, but after something that he had not been able to see clearly had been administered orally in the form of a liquid powder, he had seemingly started to recover although he had not regained consciousness.

In a strange way, it was good to know that he was not the only one who had these sorts of issues. Though he had never experienced that specifically, his friend's extraordinary abnormality made him feel somewhat secure in the knowledge that he might actually not be quite as odd as he thought he'd been all this time. This was going to be quite the story to tell the rest of his family once they all met up. But for now, he would remain at Sirrus's bedside, awaiting the moment that he would awaken so that he could thank him for everything that he had done and to just see if he was alright in general.

For a brief moment in time, he had considered the possibility of asking some of the Ludwig girls with a significance of his gift had been. It was clearly enchanted to some degree, so finding out what the bracelet did specifically was fascinating to him. Still, it was not the time. As soon as Sirrus was doing better, then he could bother with that sort of thing. No, until he awoke he would just sit here and fiddle with it quietly, allowing Shadow and Griffon a much-needed rest. Maybe he would read his book while he himself was attended to by the wonderful young woman that worked in that wing. 

He'd refused to have his injuries treated by what little staff that they had till Sirrus wounds had been brought under control. He wasn't that badly injured, and he couldn't in good conscience sit there and take up viable resources when someone else needed them more. His temporary discomfort was more than warranted as far as he was concerned. And that's how he found himself sitting there being treated in the room next to him, not nearly within range of cross-contamination, but still within the same general vicinity. 

They had put up some sort of protective plastic barrier between them for that exact reason, but it was indeed helpful to help keep things sanitary. A few bandages and a little bit of disinfectant later and he was basically fine. A bit scuffed up and with several bruises that were sore, yes. But he was alive, and although the curse had indeed spread, he only felt slightly weak as a result. He was admittedly just happy to be unharmed for the most part. The fight could have gone much worse. It normally did.

Realizing that he desperately needed to talk to somebody about what had happened, he spared a glance at his resting companion before making the decision that he could temporarily step out of the room. He didn't want to leave long, but he did want to make a phone call, and it would be rude as far as he was concerned to make one inside of the room where he was. And even if he didn't have that issue, there wasn't a phone in here. He'd have to go and get one. Maybe he should buy one?

Quietly standing and hoping that the chair he was sitting on didn't creak as he did so, he made his way over to the door, opening it and stepping through before closing it quietly behind him in a manner so slow that he wasn't entirely sure that it was necessary. He then looked up and down the hall, wondering if there was one on a table in the breezeway or something. He didn't actually know if they really had a lot of phones in this house. It was lucky that they had picked up when he had called. Almost as lucky as he'd been when he realized that he'd remembered the number.

Making the executive decision to just go and ask someone about where he could make a phone call, he headed into the main hall, sure that someone would be still awake at this time of night. But as he headed through the doorway, he ran face to face with someone that he wasn't expecting to see still up at this hour. He'd assumed she'd gone to sleep after what had happened.

"Good evening, Willow."

She stopped, turning her attention to him for a moment as she seemed to be taken slightly by surprise. A somewhat perplexed look crossed her face as she obviously considered something. But a moment later, she nodded. "Likewise. I was actually just coming around there to see how things were going. Has he awoken yet?"

V couldn't help but notice that she seemed uncomfortable, her hands clenched together in front of her in a manner that betrayed what he believed to be actual, genuine worry. She had been walking in the opposite direction, so he had probably taken her by surprise. What a shift in behavior considering how displeased she had been to see the young adjudicator the last time they had visited, at least initially. Perhaps it was guilt for what she had said to him when he'd been here last? Either way, he shook his head to indicate that he hadn't woken up yet. She did a decent job of hiding her obvious dismay, but not good enough to go unnoticed.

"Oh... I see. Well, do you keep me in the loop if you can? I'll send someone to come and check on both of you soon." She shifted her stance slightly, turning more to face him than she had been before. She unclenched her coupled hands, putting them slightly behind her back on either side of her body before more than likely bunching them into uncomfortable loose fists. There was no anger, only discomfort." Did you need anything? I can't imagine you're just wandering the halls so late at night searching for a sense of clarity."

At the risk of seeming unpleasant or possibly even rude, V decided to make the executive decision to have a meaningful discussion with her for a moment. He had nothing to gain by lying. "I was wondering the very same thing about you, though it may not be my place to. You seem anxious… and you don't seem like the sort to wander anxiously through your own home. But to answer your question, I was looking for a phone. I wanted to call someone. I suppose I just need to get something off of my chest."

Willow stared at him quietly for a moment, seemingly thinking about what he'd said. For a moment, V was concerned that he had upset her before she nodded and something akin to a soft smile spread across her face. It seemed that she understood what he meant by that statement and wasn't upset by it. He was strangely relieved by that fact. He didn't know her enough to have a concrete reason to be worried about what she thought of him, but either way, he didn't like being an ungrateful guest. 

"Are you sure you're your father's son? I don't believe he's ever worded anything in such a thoughtful manner in his entire life. He cared little for causing me upset, but I suppose I did cause quite a bit of grief myself." She seemed to drift off for a moment, thinking of a bygone time and her youth with what we're clearly nostalgia glasses. He got the impression that his father and this woman probably didn't view that memory the same way. Actually, knowing Vergil, he probably didn't remember what she was thinking about in the first place. He'd noticed that his father seemed to have a habit of not recalling things that were important to others because they had meant very little to him at the time. Fleeting moments in an otherwise negligible experience. But he couldn't really fold him for that. It wasn't really a character flaw so much as it just wasn't a lack of awareness of what other people were paying attention to. That was a common enough thing for people to do.

Something akin to a small smirk graced his lips for a moment. "Perhaps it's a product of not meeting him until later in my life." He couldn't be sure why he'd felt the need to divulge that, but it almost felt good to get that off of his chest. There was a strange sort of tension that came with the moments when people asked him about his childhood or his past, not realizing how drastically different it probably was from what they assumed it to be. But he wasn't ashamed of that so much as he just wasn't entirely ready to talk about it to other people. But even given that fact, there was something about this moment that allowed him the levity to speak his mind.

The look of genuine surprise that crossed her face was admittedly unexpected on his part, but she nodded in solemn agreement. He remembered Magnolia telling him that their mother and father had passed away when they had been teenagers. Perhaps he had brought up a memory or a feeling that she could relate to. After all, it had seemingly torn their family apart at the seams. "I suppose that makes sense... There's a phone over here. Feel free to borrow it. Though you can't walk off anywhere with it. It's a landline."

He nodded in agreement, appreciating her assistance. She then gave him a small smile and turned to go back to what she was doing, bowing as if to dismiss herself. It seemed that once again he had dismissed her original assumption as to the family structure of another person that she knew. He wondered where that came from with her, but he couldn't say that he was bothered by it. He didn't really care enough to be. 

But with that in mind, perhaps it would be best to go and use that phone now. There was no telling when Sirrus would wake up, and he genuinely needed to talk to Nero. With the difficult time that he was having right now, he felt like perhaps his little brother was the only person that would truly understand. He just hoped he wasn't disturbing him. After all, it was late. The last thing that he wanted to do was wake the children or their long-suffering parents. Kyrie and Nero deserved more than that.

(-~-)

For a moment there I actually thought that today was Friday. Lol, nope! It's Tuesday! See you on Friday, and the new readers who have joined between now and the last few chapters! It's always wonderful to have new people around and to answer any questions that you all have! Hope to see you in the comment section, and I'll see you all again on Friday! And if you see any errors, let me know! I went over this twice, but I still feel like I might have missed a few little things.

[hannigrammest]

The Story of How Hannigram Became Canon to Those Who Are in Doubt

This post is mostly meant for the casual viewers who I noticed have joined Hannibal Subreddit after the news about the S4 negotiations. It is great that we are growing in numbers, but there seems to be a misunderstanding in regard to Hannigram (the romantic relationship between Will and Hannibal) and people who ship this pairing.

Hannigram is not a fanon pairing. It is not ‘just in the heads’ of silly girls or overly-romantic viewers. It is a canonically acknowledged couple that is supported massively by the cast and Bryan Fuller. Furthermore, this romance is the essence of the show, because Will and Hannibal find everything in each other. No, their relationship is not based merely on romance or sexual attraction. But also no, a more explicit romance in S4, which seems very likely and has been hinted at many times, will not destroy the complexity of the relationship. It will add to it.

The first part is canon evidence of Hannigram season by season. The second part of this huge post is tweets, quotes, and photos with Bryan and cast in regard to Hannigram. (Sorry, I can't seem to break the post in parts for easier reading, the formatting links don't work here for some reason.)

THE SHOW ITSELF

Season 1 is obviously the most ambiguous one in this regard because the relationship only starts to develop. And yes, the majority of scenes can be interpreted as the blossoming friendship, because it is a friendship first and foremost. Even several rather romantic moments can be technically classified as such — but only if you ignore the looks that Will and Hannibal give each other and the later narrative. Still, this is all ambiguous at this stage.

When Hannibal offers Will to take care of Abigail, he repeatedly calls them her “fathers”. Not “uncles” or “caretakers” or any other option — fathers, and while this word by itself might not mean much, it is clearly supposed to hint at what kind of relationship is going to unite Will and Hannibal in the future. In 1.07, Will doesn’t come to the appointment and Hannibal is pining. It is a very powerful and explicit scene, with Hannibal slowly walking to his chair, checking his calendar to make sure Will had to come, touching the phone longingly, then abruptly making a decision and going to look for him. All of this is accompanied by the corresponding music. Is this scene romantic? Some may see it this way, some may disagree. But I think most will agree that such obvious pining is a common romantic trope that's often shown in media. The focus and the way the scene is presented are everything: they didn't just show that Will didn't come and that Hannibal decided to find him. No, we had a slow focus on all his hesitant actions and his longing for contact. In any way, at this stage, it is no longer a mere friendship. It goes deeper, to the point where Hannibal can’t stand not knowing where Will is and craving contact enough to drive for hours in the search for him.

Once again in 1.07, Will brings Hannibal a bottle of wine out of blue and acts awkwardly and shyly when declining the invitation to join the dinner party. We don’t know why Will did it and it is never addressed again, but I think everyone will agree that bringing a bottle of wine to another person for no reason and just for him has a rather romantic shade.

Then, in that same scene, Will claims he can’t stay because he has ��a date with a Chesapeake Ripper’. It is a joke, of course, but once again, it’s fiction. The word choice is very deliberate, and Bryan loves to foreshadow the upcoming events.

In 1.08, Will drives an hour in the snow to tell Hannibal about the kiss with Alana and Hannibal exhibits a very controlled jealousy, making a snarky comment about the long drive and telling Will that he had been motivated not by attraction, but by the need to find a balance.

In 1.09, Hannibal calls him and Will Abigail’s fathers again and touches his shoulder. Yes, it is ambiguous, but when (especially) you know what’s coming, you can’t help but notice how this touch is too hesitant and fragile for a mere gesture of friendship and unity. I’ll just say, even my father caught up on it right away, which is saying something.

These are the most explicit things I recall from season 1. Now, season 2 is way more direct.

Many scenes of Hannibal pining, sitting with a glass of wine and staring at Will’s chair at his time of appointments is a common romantic trope. Yes, it can be interpreted in different ways — for example, Will has already become a part of Hannibal and Hannibal misses him as the person who has the power to understand him. However, I feel like I have to emphasize the fact that it cannot be the only reason. Hannibal has already met people with extreme empathy before, such as Pazzi. He has also met people who were happy to join him and who had similar mindset, as Tobias Budge. Hannibal wasn’t interested in them, but he’s interested in Will. Will is special because he is himself, and like Hannibal will say later, love either pays you a visit or it does not. It clearly did with Will.

Soon after Will is released from prison, he goes to Hannibal to start the implementation of his and Jack’s plan. What does he choose to do? He dresses up and polishes himself up, presenting himself to Hannibal in the way that we have never seen him before. The first thought that comes to mind is ‘seduction’. Consciously or unconsciously, Will makes himself look as attractive as possible.

In 2.08, Hannibal touches Will’s face and holds it, staring into his eyes. This is romantic. It is one of the most popular romantic tropes that ever existed. ‘Transcendent’ love doesn’t require this kind of very intimate touch to be displayed. More than that, things become very dangerous here because if there had been no explicit follow-up, Bryan would have been accused of queerbaiting. Fortunately, it wasn’t the case.

In 2.09, Will has a dream where Hannibal directly calls him his ‘beloved’ several times. In 2.10, Hannibal treats Will’s hands very gently and we get camera focusing on it thoroughly. It is a deliberate depiction of eroticism that's often used in romances to create and underline romantic and/or sexual tension. In the same episode, we have a beautiful sex scene, seemingly between Hannibal and Alana and Will and Margot. However, it is there to show a very intimate and all-encompassing connection that is developing between Will and Hannibal, and it is structured this way specifically. Will reaches orgasm when he sees the Wendigo, a reflection of Hannibal. The words used before, like Hannibal's words about "never touching", are said to Alana but put on the image of Will.

Alana notices the shift in this relationship and asks Will and Hannibal about it. They talk about “crossing boundaries” and the fact that they “know where we are with each other”, and Alana clearly remains suspicious. In the end of the episode, Will and Hannibal have an intimate dinner full of lingering glances.

In 2.11, the episode starts with the eating of ortolans, which has being pointed out as an allusion to blowjob by the creator) If you have missed it, just re-watch this scene again with this in mind. It is very explicit, to the point of being uncomfortable. Hannibal’s reaction to learning that Margot is pregnant from Will is to hint Mason about it, thus endangering her and her child. Granted, he seems to genuinely regret it, but the deed is done. It is a jealous and possessive reaction, which has been further confirmed by Mads. During the con, he said: "If Margot had Will’s baby, it would be very hard for Hannibal to get over it. He’d be jealous and very grumpy." In this same episode, Alana looks at the burnt ‘Shiva’ that Hannibal has left for Will and calls it a ‘courtship’. So, we get the explicit confirmation that Hannibal is courting Will. And no, he isn’t courting an emerging killer in Will because at this point, he thinks that Will has already embraced his potential by killing Randall and Freddie and eating her. To Hannibal’s mind, Will is almost ready, but he is too lovesick to stop. Can you imagine him digging up the corpse of ‘Freddie’, decorating it, and displaying like that? It’s hilariously romantic — in a dark way.

In 2.12, Will chooses Hannibal by freeing him from the trap and then not giving him up to Jack after he mutilates Mason. Hannibal draws a fanart (!) of himself and Will as Achilles and Patroclus. For those who don’t know, these two are popular examples of lovers. This isn't just friendship. The reference to Achilles and Patroclus is often used to hint at a romance, it's a popular trope as well.

In 2.13, Hannibal talks about ‘imago’, an image of a loved one, and then says that he and Will have an image of each other and offers him to run away. Two men running away together to reunite with their daughter is romantic. Will chooses Hannibal once again by calling him, but it is too late. We get a heartbreakingly tender and intimate touch between them before the stabbing. As Mads said, "Will is the light of Hannibal's life and Hannibal killed Abigail to break Will's heart the way he broke his." Just as he said that "Hannibal was blinded by love."

Season 3 is where all subtext is taken into text. Hannibal has chosen Bedelia as a substitute to Will, and note how many people believe they become lovers. So, why Will and Hannibal running away is platonic, but Hannibal doing the same with Bedelia is not? Even though when the only person he does love is Will. We see that he is dissatisfied with Bedelia and is growing restless.

In 3.01, we get a flashback to Gideon who teases/mocks Hannibal by saying, ‘If only that company could be Will Graham’. So, in the very limited interactions, even he managed to glimpse the attraction, because let’s be honest, he didn’t have time to understand all deep layers of this relationship, but his phrase has been included deliberately.

In this episode, Hannibal meets Anthony, practically a Will mirror. He looks similarly, is smart, sassy, and he is even enthusiastic about Hannibal’s crimes. Ideally, he is everything Hannibal has wanted. But what does he do? He kills Anthony and turns him into a Valentine heart for Will. Before that, he makes an example of the heart from Da Vinci’s ‘perfect man’. In 3.02, Will recognizes it as such and calls it a Valentine and a ‘broken heart’. He asks himself, “Do I still want to go with him?”, and answers, “Yes”.

In 3.03, we get the first ‘in love’ confirmation. Hannibal is shaken after seeing Will and hearing his words of forgiveness. When talking about him with Bedelia, Bedelia says, “Betrayal and forgiveness are best seen as something akin to falling in love”, and Hannibal replies, “You can’t control with respect to whom you fall in love”. The longing for Will has made Hannibal reckless, and Bedelia notices it by mentioning that he is going to get caught with this kind of behavior. In the end of the episode, Hannibal once again says that Will makes him feel love. He adds, “Love. He pays you a visit or he doesn’t.” Which love can either come to a person or not? Technically, these words could be interpreted as platonic love, but in the beginning of this very episode, we got a confirmation that the nature of this love is romantic. Will, in turn, is still reverent about Hannibal and even travels to his home to find out more about him. His attitude changes when he sees Chiyoh, who he sees as another toy abandoned by Hannibal, and it brings back the insecurities. We see it through how often Will compares himself and Chiyoh and how he is filled with anger and bitterness again (which were absent before this meeting). Chiyoh sees right through him and repeatedly states that Will is wrong to compare them, but Will persists.

In 3.04, we see that Will spends a lot of time sitting in Hannibal’s house, which is yet another romantic trope. Even Alana knows where to find him. Will admits to Jack that he “wanted to run away with Hannibal”, which also has a romantic connotation. Before that, Will was making the boat that he later uses to come and find Hannibal. This scene is intercut with his Mizumono memories, namely, with Hannibal's face that emerges every time he moves yet another part of the engine. This is a vivid demonstration of Will trying to repair what is now broken. He also literally sails after Hannibal, which is considered extremely romantic by many tropes at once. Chilton calls Will and Hannibal’s interactions a “flirtation” in this episode.

In 3.05, when discussing what to do with Hannibal, Chiyoh says, “I told you, there are means of influence other than violence” and kisses Will, thus showing him what others means exist. It is yet another direct allusion to the romantic part of Will and Hannibal’s relationship because Chiyoh basically offers him to kiss Hannibal instead of trying to kill him.

In 3.06, Hannibal says the famous, ”If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time”. He said the same words to Clarice in the books shortly before having sex with her. It is an utterly romantic phrase that just cannot have any other meaning, especially when you count the narrative and the source material. Will adds some more romantic phrases, like “We are conjoined, I wonder if either of us can survive separation.” Such level of love is incredible, but you don’t say things like that to a person who you feel can just understand you. Nor to a simple friend or a spiritual mentor. It’s everything at once, especially when coming from Will. Things go badly after that and we get a knife and a drill. Scenes in Mason’s house are great and show that Will and Hannibal could be a great team. Hannibal saves Will and carries him home bridal-style. He changes his clothes, puts him into bed, and waits for him to wake up while writing down formulas that could change the time and erase some of the events. When Will wakes up, Hannibal admits that he has discovered Will in his Mind Palace, victorious, thus giving the power into his hands. When Will rejects him (by saying he’s not going to miss him), Hannibal gives himself up, knowing that chances are, he will never get back to freedom and he will never see Will again. Prison is the ultimate act of love because Hannibal is helpless there, completely on Will’s mercy. As Mads said during the con, "Will forgetting him was the last thing Hannibal wanted to hear, so that’s why he surrendered. The only way Will would see him again is if he’s in jail, and he would eventually visit. He was afraid he’d never see Will again otherwise."

3 years pass and we see that Will has a family. But — surprise! He is unhappy. He doesn’t even go fishing with them to have some time for himself. He hides the letter from Hannibal and goes to read it in the middle of the night. He never returns Molly’s ‘I love you’, never attempts to touch her, can’t even keep up a conversation with her, and literally sees himself falling to pieces. At the earliest opportunity, he jumps at the chance to see Hannibal. He didn’t have to do it. We are shown that he has recreated the crime scene perfectly, better than ever before, but Will lies to Jack about it and asks to see Hannibal.

In 3.09, we have a very powerful scene of Hannibal and Will reuniting, exchanging long sorrowful and heartbroken gazes. Hannibal says, “I gave you a child”, which puts him and Will in a category of parents again. He says that Will has chosen a ready-made family and Will doesn’t argue. We get a “Murder Husbands” reference from Freddie.

In 3.10, Will seeks Bedelia out. He acts catty and jealous. Bedelia calls him “Hannibal’s bride”, and calls Will out on visiting Hannibal just because he missed him, which Will doesn’t deny. He is confident and snarky at those scenes, using every opportunity to cut into Bedelia for having a relationship with Hannibal and surviving it in even better shape than he did. Bedelia says, “My relationship with Hannibal is not as passionate as yours”, and then adds: “You are here visiting old flame. Is your wife aware of how intimately you and Hannibal know each other?” They literally place Hannibal on the same level as Will’s wife. Then we have, “Your experience of Hannibal’s attention is so profoundly harmful yet so irresistible, it undermines your ability to think rationally.”

In 3.11, Hannibal sends Francis after Molly and Walter. Will doesn’t really comfort them, we see clearer than ever what a wedge exists between them. Hannibal asks, “How is the wife?”, which is another display of blatant jealousy. Will gets it, and he can’t deny the truth any longer.

In 3.12, we have the exchange that should have settled the debates about romantic part of relationship once and for all. Bedelia compares herself and Will to Hannibal/Bluebeard’s wives, and mentions how she would have preferred to be the last — the one that Will is. Will asks, “Is Hannibal in love with me?”, and Bedelia replies, “Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you ache for him?” Will’s look and his silence speak volumes as everything fades to black slowly. This is it, the textually explicit confirmation. Fans didn’t come up with the idea that Will and Hannibal are in love, it was stated directly on screen, several times.

Shortly before the confession, Bedelia says, "It excites him, knowing that you marked in this particular way." Personally, I always felt some sexual subtext in this phrase, and it is confirmed when we regard the similar scene in the book. Clarice gets sperm on her face and these same words sound. Granted, the situations are very different, but it proves that the phrase does indeed have sexual connotations, and it was deliberately planned like this.

Will devises a complicated and deadly plan after this. He sets up Chilton, which can be seen as courting gift to Hannibal, and in 3.13, he lies to everyone to break Hannibal out of prison. Bedelia calls him out on it once again, saying, "Can't live with him. Can't live without him." Will doesn't deny it - he confirms it. When Hannibal says he'll agree to the plan if Will says 'please', Will does it - in an obviously flirting way. Hannibal calls him a 'cunning boy', which is once again obvious flirting, especially considering the way he says it. His plan results in the deaths of numerous officers, but Hannibal is free. We have another romantic trope where Hannibal pretends that Will is a hitchhiker and asks if he’s going his way. In the house, they have another loaded conversation where Will admits that he doesn’t think he can save itself, and that it’s fine.

Predictably, Will can’t handle seeing Hannibal killed, so he reaches for his gun. We know the rest. At the cliff, Will finally accepts the truth, and he gives the fate a chance to stop both of them or to set them free. They fall into the ocean under the Love Crime song, and since the water symbolizes reborn, we can guess what happens after that.

Post-credits scene indicates that Will and Hannibal have paid a visit to Bedelia and are in the process of eating her while she’s hiding the fork to stab one of them as he approaches. The deleted epilogue to the series shows that they are in perfect harmony now.")

Who's too lazy to read all of that, you can just check the quotes below and watch some fan videos where direct lines from canon are presented. My two favorites:

Reciprocity

Crazy in love

QUOTES

Initially, during S1, Bryan said he wanted to explore the idea of “heterosexual male friendship”. However, he later admitted that he was worried about negative homosexual stereotypes surrounding the imbalance in power in the relationship between Will and Hannibal, and in the podcast due to the beginning of American Gods, he confessed that he “wanted to approach “Hannibal” from the angle that no one has explored before — the angle of romance”.

During the airing of S2-S3, and beyond, Bryan was the one who pointed out romantic and even sexual subtext, and promoted Hannigram further. The cliff scene is officially labeled as "Kiss_alts".

Their love is queer

A collection

Canon. Original tweet is deleted, so only Bryan's is left. The person asked him to say whether Hannigram is canon.

Falling

Last wife

They Flip

Always

Will and Hannibal survived the Fall

Mere teasing, but it shows that Bryan does acknowledge sexual tension between Will and Hannibal: They did change clothes as well as Their lips were busy (to the question of what Will and Hannibal were doing in the car in TWOTL).

Bryan's favorite quote from the show: Is Hannibal in love with me?

Finally, the shirt Bryan wore at one of the latest meetings

Hugh on why it took Will so long to realize Hannibal is in love with him

Hugh on Will's reaction to Bedelia's answer about Hannibal being in love with him: ‘Oh crap, maybe this thing I’m feeling is love’

Hugh: Relief from loneliness

Hugh: It's romance

Mads: It was love at the first sight

You know better than to breed

Will Graham is covered in Hannibal’s body fluids

Bryan: I feel one is omnisexual and one is heterosexual and there's a lot of influence going back and forth, who knows with a six pack of beer what would happen: http://uproxx.com/sepinwall/hannibal-creator-i-wanted-to-be-sure-we-had-an-ending-for-the-story/

To the question of whether explicit Hannigram was a part of the initial plan, Bryan Fuller stated: "No, it naturally evolved because I guess I was absorbing so much of Mads and Hugh's performance, which felt like it was growing in intimacy, and it would have been inauthentic not to address it. Because all of these characters, and particularly Bedelia, was able to call out what she had witnessed [between Hannibal and Will], it seemed like a natural conclusion. I remember when I turned in the rewrite pages where Will asks Bedelia if Hannibal is in love with him, I got a note from Don Mancini, one of our writers who was always pushing for more homosexual text – not just context or subtext but text, text, text – and he was like, "I'm so glad you put that in there! They said it! They said it!" http://www.digitalspy.com/tv/hannibal/interviews/a667077/hannibal-bryan-fuller-talks-season-4-sexual-fluidity-and-how-will-became-clarice-starling/

Discussing what motivated him to verbally acknowledge the romance between Will and Hannibal, Fuller mentioned: "It felt like we had to s–t or get off the pot, ultimately, because there had been so much going on between these two men that when Will asks, "Is Hannibal Lecter in love with me?" it is very much about death and the romance between these two men. There is a quality to connections that go above and beyond sexuality. You can have this intimate connection with somebody that then causes you to wonder where the lines of your own sexuality are. And we didn't quite broach the sexuality. It was certainly suggested, but the love is absolutely on the table." http://tvline.com/2015/08/29/hannibal-series-finale-will-lecter-cliff-bryan-fuller-interview-season-4/

Remembering how the song for the finale of the series was created, Fuller said: "It was interesting. She [Siouxsie Sioux] was like, "I want to write this song, and what are the things I should really be thinking about?" And I was like, "this is a love story. A love story between a full-fledged psychopath and someone who has nascent psychopathic abilities." Actually, Hannibal Lecter is not a psychopath; he's something else entirely. But it's a love relationship between two men: one of them is a cannibal, and one of them understands those cannibalistic instincts all too well." http://uproxx.com/sepinwall/hannibal-creator-i-wanted-to-be-sure-we-had-an-ending-for-the-story/

Bryan Fuller: "Clarice never, until the end of Hannibal, submitted to that romance, whereas Will seemed to be on a slippery slope right from the beginning, so there's a contrast to be drawn between them." http://www.digitalspy.com/tv/hannibal/interviews/a667077/hannibal-bryan-fuller-talks-season-4-sexual-fluidity-and-how-will-became-clarice-starling/

Bryan in the commentary: "“After killing Francis Dolarhyde with Hannibal Lecter, he realizes this is exactly what Hannibal Lecter has wanted all along. He has wanted a partner in crime - a murder husband, as it were - and the sad truth of it all is that Hannibal was right. Will did enjoy it. Will thought it was a beautiful, powerful thing." https://omnisexualhanniballecter.tumblr.com/post/134099645797/after-killing-francis-dolarhyde-with-hannibal

Hugh during PaleyFest 2014 (prior to S3): "They are in love or they love each other, that's unquestionable. I think it's a platonic love... but it's rich in... (audience and cast laughs) Ok, we've done two seasons so far... so platonic love and they recognize each other as unique in the world, they reflect each other in a way, it's like profound recognition and relief that comes with it. And they are good looking guys." Mads agrees: "Exactly. Losing him or what Hannibal did with him in the two seasons is probably the closest he has ever been to loving anyone. And what love means in his universe we have to see later on. But it's heartbreaking everything that happens to poor Will is also heartbreaking for Hannibal."

Hugh: You could say that during the second half [of season three]-I mean, obviously we’re jumping ahead here, but Will comes back to Hannibal. He’s now got this family, and Will, independently and pretty quickly, starts coming to the conclusion that it’s not sustainable for him to have that family. Like, he’s not the guy. He’s not the right person to be able to look after them, to live with them. It’s not compatible with who he really is. And you could argue that Hannibal is just driving him more quickly to come to that realization. So in that sense, it is kind of brutal, tough love. His love is saying, “Know thyself.” Mads: As Hugh is saying, it’s unavoidable. It’s going to happen sooner or later. Might as well happen sooner, before he’s stuck. [Interview http://oh-dr-lecter.tumblr.com/post/129331180920/theyll-say-were-in-love-fangoria-august-2015]

Mads Mikkelsen on ‘Which scene has been the defining moment?'

"Probably one of the moments early on, maybe mid first season, where I spend some quality time in therapy session with Hugh and he’s flying away thinking about something and I have the chance, Hannibal has the chance, to watch him. And he becomes very warm watching him. He sees not only this brilliant person but he sees something he loves. I think that is the definition of Hannibal." [https://twitter.com/noforts/status/1071952333221888000]

Bryan and Hugh discussing Will's motivation in TWOTL at the cliff and beyond (in the commentary to S3):

Hugh: The point was that it wasn't the horror that drove Will to do this, the horror was secondary, it was a horror in reaction to how much he loved what happened between him and Hannibal. We have seen so many moments of Will is covered in blood and shaking and horrified and this moment he suddenly realizes it is his true self.

Bryan: I remember the day you shot the closeups, you both came running to me and I remember Mads was particularly giddy, giddy as a schoolgirl, he said we really went for it, we really went for the love story, we almost kissed and it's all there and you can use it.

Hugh: We had to push in that direction so that there is no point pretending otherwise.

About Bedelia's leg:

Bryan: The false interpretation is she cut her leg which is a crazier version of Bedelia than I understand. Of course the intention is they survived and there are three place settings."

Hugh, answering the question what is happening to Will and Hannibal now: "Let's just say they're on a beach somewhere. [Interviewer] Just chilling on a beach? [Dancy] Yeah, just chilling on a beach. Drinking something out of a coconut."

Also, the reports from people who visited one of the cons mentioned the following."Today at Red Dragon Con it was announced by Mads that Hannibal and Will are now married, have dogs which he calls “the ugly carpets” of the relationship, and live in seclusion for 4 years before hunting together." Regardless of whether it is going to come to fruition or not, this is how Mads imagines Will and Hannibal's life Post Fall.

Mads in May 2018:

"“I think that Hannibal and Will… they’re not really alive without each other. They are a piece of the puzzle for the other one’s soul.”

A great video where Mads talks about Hannibal and his feelings in S2 final.

Question: Was Hannibal suspicious of Will before he smelled Freddie Lounds or was he completely clueless about it at that point?

Mads: Hannibal doesn't have a masterplan. He's living from day to day and he's seeing possibilities and opportunities, and one of them is Will Graham, who he is obviously in love with, in a certain way - that way. But I think at that time, Hannibal has been blinded by Will Graham. He believes truly that he will walk down the path with the light, hand in hand, with Will - and Abigail. That's his dream, that's what he wants, and I think it does surprise him and it does break his heart. It is a turning point for Hannibal when he becomes the cleaning man instead of the man who loves. Until then, he'd been a man full of love, and after that, I think he is... slightly angry. It was a surprise for him. He was tricked.He got blinded by love.

Interesting interview bit:

IGN: Reba’s final scene was another where you got to really pull direct quotes from the book. But here, I was reading it as Will can also be projecting about himself, as he talks about what it might be like to have a serial killer in love with you. Was that in your mind too, given you had these great quotes from the book but that it could definitely be maybe be a bit more of an echo here, given the situation.?

Fuller: Oh, absolutely. It was a great synchronicity of events where everything that Will was saying to Reba in the novel actually applies to Will Graham in the television series. So there was the want of seeing that scene because I haven’t seen it in any of the adaptations where we get to see Reba, post all of this, and have a quiet moment between the two people who were in love with serial killers.

Bryan: "My ship is canon" (https://twitter.com/BryanFuller/status/1072599788581998593)

Bryan about Will and Hannibal's relationship: "Will accepts who Hannibal is. It’s also narcissistic, in the way that we fall in love with people who make us feel better about ourselves and who make us feel like we’re a better version of ourselves. That makes us feel more secure in our bodies, in the dysmorphia of who you are on the inside versus who you project on the outside. That disconnect narrows dramatically when somebody sees you, understands you, accepts you and loves you. It’s transcendent." (http://collider.com/bryan-fuller-hannibal-silence-of-the-lambs-interview/)

Bryan about Will's reasons for jumping, surviving, and attacking Bedelia with Hannibal: "I think one of the reasons it seemed so organic for Will to go over the cliff with Hannibal at the end was that, in his mind, as he understood the universe in his world, he had peaked. It’s also stopping a monster and stopping himself from becoming a monster, but I think part of him was thinking, “That was beautiful. I don’t think I can do that again and feel as high as I do now.” Everything overwhelmed him and he went over that cliff because there was an apex to his experience, in a way that was poetic and dramatic. ... The kind of suicide where somebody jumps off a bridge, part of them hopes they survive and part of them wants to be over. I think a lot of people are hoping for some percentage of survival that may change them because they’re looking for change within themselves. So, I think there was some bit of that. For the ending with Gillian [Anderson], there are two place settings for a reason." (http://collider.com/bryan-fuller-hannibal-silence-of-the-lambs-interview/)

Bryan about Will and Hannibal's relationship in S1: The relationship between Will and Hannibal in this first season is the seduction. It is Hannibal Lecter recognizing in Will Graham for the first time in anyone that he has ever encountered in his life the opportunity for a friendship, a real friendship, because he sees something in Will Graham that he also sees in himself. They are both unique in their crazy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzU7O7Q0R5U)

Hugh about the start of Will and Hannibal's relationship: "It’s an instant love between them, it is as if Will met not the best chess player in the world, but the only absolute, the only person he can play with, that enters in the room - or rather, in his life - with a chessboard in hand, and this provokes in him a pleasure and an incredible relief. When we find Will at the beginning of the second season, he was betrayed and thrown in jail, so he is not in a really enviable situation, but the connection he had with Hannibal has remained unchanged, it is something which he can not get rid of. This time, however, he manipulates their connection because Hannibal still needs him and their friendship, but beyond the practical utility must be said that the bond with Hannibal is, even for Will, a source of uncontrolled, involuntary pleasure.”

Mads about the start of relationship: "Hannibal sees an opportunity in this young man. And so he can hopefully, one day, walk hand in hand down the road of life." https://k-s-morgan.tumblr.com/post/187266698258/hannibal-sees-an-opportunity-in-this-young-man

Mads during S1: "When he sees Will, he recognizes himself to a degree. [Hannibal] has empathy, but [he] uses it as a tool; Will has empathy, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. Lecter sees an opportunity to open this man’s eyes and see his full potential realized. And he also sees the opportunity for a friend, which is probably not what he’s had too many of. Even though Hannibal is the puppeteer, he really loves Will." https://screencrush.com/hannibal-lunch-preview/?utm_source=tsmclip&utm_medium=referral

Bryan: "The tricky thing with this show is that it is a story about two men and their relationship. But if it were just about male point of views, it wouldn’t be interesting. I feel like we haven’t done as good of a job, in Season 2, of representing the female characters and their point of view of the world. I think there’s a greater opportunity in Season 3 to do that, and do more of that. In Season 2, we knew the story was about these two guys, and everybody else around them were pawns. Jack Crawford was a pawn. Alana Bloom was a pawn. It was all about what was between Hannibal and Will Graham." https://collider.com/hannibal-season-3-details-filming-europe/

Bryan about S4: I'm still hoping for more Murder Husband adventures!

source: https://www.reddit.com/r/HannibalTV/comments/72bk89/the_story_of_how_hannigram_became_canon_to_those/

[the--highlanders]

Fireworks

The Doctor takes Jamie to a fireworks festival, and Jamie wonders exactly what his motivations are.

on ao3.

The night sky was bursting with colour, swirling with splashes of red and green and purple. They each hung suspended for a few moments, then fell to earth like so many raindrops, only to be renewed again. Jamie stared up at them, entranced, watching them rise and fall and rise again. It was as if the auroras he had sometimes seen over his home had been boiled down to their brightest essences and returned to the sky. He almost turned to say as much to the Doctor, but words did not seem enough to capture the beauty of it, and he closed his mouth almost as soon as he had opened it.

Besides, he told himself, it would not do to look away and miss out on whatever was going on above them. He knew that if he looked over at the Doctor, he would not be able to tear his eyes away. Risking a glance out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the Doctor’s face was full of rapture, almost as bright as the fireworks themselves. The colours were casting themselves over his face and reflecting in his eyes, and Jamie hurriedly dragged his attention away, not wanting to be caught staring. Instead, he shuffled away from the Doctor, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Are you cold?”

He looked over at the Doctor in surprise, and immediately cursed himself for it. Concern was written all over his face, and he was already tugging one arm out of his coat sleeve. Jamie hurriedly pushed it back over his shoulder, trying to smile in a way that was more reassuring than pained. His hand lingered for a little too long against the Doctor’s arm, and he drew it away sharply, his cheeks burning.

“I’m alright,” he said, a little too brusquely to sound entirely casual. “I’m no’ really feelin’ it. What about ye? It’s no’ like ye do well in the cold.”

“Oh, I’m alright,” the Doctor echoed cheerfully, seemingly clueless in the face of Jamie’s embarrassment. He glanced up towards the fireworks, pausing for a moment to watch a particularly bright explosion. “Quiet enough for you?”

Jamie nodded, leaning back against the bench. He tipped his head against the top of it to take in the smaller fireworks careening off the edges of the display. “Aye. I’m glad I didnae stay in the TARDIS.”

“Mm. I knew you were disappointed about missing those fireworks last week.” The Doctor stretched his arms out, draping them carelessly over the back of the bench. His fingers brushed against Jamie’s shoulder, and the ghost of the touch burned through his shirt for a long moment afterwards. “Quite a stroke of luck, you know. Finding a planet where the atmosphere allows for silent explosions.”

“Aye.” Jamie grinned at the Doctor, bumping their shoulders together. “Thanks.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, thank the TARDIS. She’s the one who got us here.”

Jamie’s grin turned to a knowing smirk. “Oh, did she?”

A hint of red crept onto the Doctor’s cheeks as he realised what he had said. “I mean – it was her turn to decide where to go.”

“Oh, aye. I’m sure it was.”

An enormous spray of light stretched across the sky, silencing the Doctor before he could try and argue. All across the plaza, people fell silent, turning to look up at the sky. The firework hung suspended amongst the stars for a long moment before plummeting back to earth. As it fell, the shape disintegrated into tiny sparks, and Jamie watched them fade away, leaving only the smell of smoke and a streak of grey across the already-clouded sky.

The plaza’s lights dimmed, and Jamie clutched at the Doctor’s arm, though he relaxed a little when he saw that the crowds around them had not reacted. A soft murmur of conversation was beginning to grow again, and people were pointing up towards the sky, although the fireworks had stopped. But when he looked again, Jamie saw that the clouds left behind by the fireworks were fusing into a great blanket that dimmed the stars. A lone snowflake tumbled down from them, watched keenly by every occupant of the plaza. Those who stood closest to it backed away, clearing its path towards the ground. It tumbled and twisted through the air painfully slowly, and eventually dipped out of sight behind the rows of people that surrounded it, Jamie pushed himself halfway off the bench, craning his neck to try and catch sight of it again – but before he could, a cheer rose up from the crowd, and he knew it had landed.

More snowflakes were following it now, pouring out of the clouds to settle over trees and food-stalls and people. Jamie relaxed back into his seat, beaming. The lights had flickered on again, a band had struck up a lively tune, and people were beginning to dance, spinning around in joyful circles as if they were falling snowflakes themselves. “What just happened?”

“Atmospheric disturbance.” The Doctor was smiling just as broadly as Jamie was. “On your Earth, fireworks tend to be followed by rain. Here, it snows – but the planet orbits its sun so slowly that the conditions are only right once every hundred of your Earth years. The native people of this planet worshipped the snowfall, after they figured out how to make it happen, and most of the people who’ve settled here took on the tradition.” He gestured out around them. “Even if you don’t believe in it, it’s an excuse for a party.”

“Aye, it is that.” Once again, Jamie made the mistake of glancing over at the Doctor. His eyes were gleaming with excitement, and he was twisting his hands eagerly, made restless by the beauty of what they had just witnessed.

The Doctor glanced over him, and Jamie blushed, filled with shame at having been caught staring. “I don’t suppose you’d like to dance with me, Jamie?”

The question pulled Jamie’s mind to a skidding halt, and very nearly stopped his heart, too. He had dared to wonder just how friendly this night out was, with Ben and Polly still asleep in the TARDIS, and the festival, and the fireworks – but he had wondered the same thing before, and nothing had ever come of it. The last thing he had expected tonight was an invitation to dance. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, he told himself sternly. He’s an alien, he probably doesn’t think anything of it. But there was still a hope growing in his chest, wrapping its vines around his heart. A hope that perhaps he was not imagining the intent behind the Doctor’s actions, that his feelings might be returned. He had cut away similar thoughts before, but this one was squeezing him particularly tightly, catching his breath in his throat. It would be the easiest thing in the world to take the Doctor’s outstretched hand and say yes, to pretend for a few minutes that the Doctor could love him too.

But there was always the chance that he was wrong, that the Doctor simply thought he was being friendly. And besides, he thought, is that really the place to test that? In front of hundreds of other people? Polly had explained to him that there was nothing wrong with loving the Doctor, that people in the future had no objection to two men being together, and when he examined the crowd before him, he could see the truth in her words. But an anxious self-consciousness still held him back, warning him against taking the Doctor’s hand where anyone could see them. For all Polly’s reassurances, a part of him could not help but feel that the ache of silence was a fair price to pay for having been foolish enough to fall in love with the Doctor. He raised his own hand a little way, but a hot wire of shame burned down his spine, and he lowered it again, clutching at the bench until his knuckles were white to hide his slight trembling.

The Doctor was watching him with a touch of concern, still waiting for his answer. “I’m no’ really one for dancing,” he lied. “Better not.”

A brief expression that could almost have been disappointment flashed over the Doctor’s face, but it was gone so quickly that Jamie was sure he must have imagined it. “If you’re sure.”

A tense silence fell over them, and Jamie shifted uncomfortably around on the bench, his mind silently tearing itself to pieces. He had believed that he had accepted the fact that he loved the Doctor, and the likelihood that the Doctor would never love him back. But one short question had taken that acceptance and spun it on its head, and now he felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump, with no idea of what might be below him. The rational part of his mind told him that his dilemma was hardly so dramatic. Simply accepting the Doctor’s offer would not give away his feelings, as long as he was sensible. And yet he still had a sense that he was stepping out over an empty void, ready to fall, with only the hope that the landing would be an easy one.

“Actually...” He half-choked on the dryness of his mouth, and he paused, struggling to collect himself. There was still a way out, he thought – he could divert the conversation, say something completely different – but then the Doctor turned to look at him expectantly, and there was a look in his eyes that made Jamie’s heart clench. Somehow, beyond certainty, he knew exactly why the Doctor had asked him to dance, though he hardly dared believe it. “I might take ye up on that dance after all.” The words tumbled out of him, and he was sure they must have been incomprehensible. “If ye still want to.”

Another look passed over the Doctor’s face, too quick for Jamie to properly take in, but this time it was something more like joy. “Of course.” He stood up, holding out both hands this time, and Jamie took them, letting himself be pulled up.

They stood frozen in place for a moment, equally startled by their sudden proximity. The Doctor was gripping his hands a little too tightly, and staring at him a little too intensely. Almost instinctively, Jamie raised the Doctor’s hands to his face, pressing his knuckles against his mouth softly. A wave of embarrassment washed over him when he realised what he had done, and he tried to pull his hands away, to turn and run and bury his feelings deep enough that he could forget them. But the Doctor held his hands too firmly for him to pull away, and another part of him was dying to let his feelings finally spill out, to tell the whole truth of it. Even as he opened his mouth, he was unsure which thought would quash the other, and what words would emerge.

Before he could speak, the Doctor untangled one unsteady hand to press his fingers against Jamie’s lips, quietening him, pressing the words back in before they could spring out half-formed and clumsy. Jamie almost expected him to say something himself, but when he looked up, he saw the same skittishness in the Doctor’s eyes, and the same disbelieving hope, too. And yet he knew that if either of them tried to find the words to explain themselves, the moment would be broken, just as he had almost shattered the spell of the fireworks.

Instead, he squeezed the Doctor’s hands and led him over to the dancing, still glancing around them nervously. But nobody seemed to be giving them a second glance, and for the first time he truly believed what Polly had told him, that he could let himself love the Doctor. His heart still pounded with the fear of the great emptiness below him, but now he knew what the landing would be like – and that the Doctor stood on the other side, balancing on the edge in a mirror image of himself.

He braced himself, and let himself fall.

[roguevaramiy]

“Imaginary Friend” - Krii7y

[niafrazier]

Making the Case for Beto O’Rourke

Full disclaimer: Beto is one of my top picks amongst the 2020 democratic field as of now. I’m a supporter but am in no way affiliated with his official campaign.

At a certain point, Beto O’Rourke was hailed by the media as basically the second coming of Obama, RFK, JFK, [insert any popular democratic figure from this past century… oh and Abe Lincoln]. After he unsuccessfully attempted to unseat Ted Cruz in the senate race, many people across the country were calling him to run for the presidency. He even surged in polling being just behind Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders, both who virtually have 100% name recognition. His senate race garnered national attention and even caught Oprah’s attention (she practically begged him to run on her show FFS). Many (including me) grew to admire his authentic, organic, and down-to-earth approach to politics, which is especially refreshing to see given the fact that everything seems so contrived nowadays. So, he wrestled with his decision thoughtfully and eventually came around to the idea, officially tossing his hat into the ring on March 14th, 2019. But now? Right out the gate, the narrative has shifted, and to the mainstream media pundits and Twittersphere, he is seen as an empty-suited, entitled, misogynistic, arrogant dude dripping with white male privilege. What changed?  How is it that the media, the very one that contributed to the rise of “Betomania,” subsequently went into a frenzy and poo-pooed all over his rollout? The faux outrage, double standards, and cynicism directed at Beto by opinion writers, pundits, etc. have basically motivated me to give my own takes on the most common criticisms I’ve seen thus far. So, here we go:

 “ ‘Man, I’m just born to be in it?’ ”

I’m not gonna lie, taking a look at the Vanity Fair cover and seeing that quote was a facepalm moment. As predicted, this quote sparked outrage fairly quickly… given the optics of a privileged straight white man joining a race of several qualified women and POC… Understandably so.  However, upon reading through the whole article, I was able to grasp the essence of Beto’s words. Here’s what he says leading up to his declaration, expressing urgency:

 “This is the fight of our lives…not the fight-of-my-political-life kind of crap. But, like, this is the fight of our lives as Americans, and as humans, I’d argue.”

And now here’s the full quote: “Man, I’m just born to be in it, and want to do everything I humanly can for this country at this moment.”

 He’s not so much saying that he was born to be in a position of power, rather, he’s expressing that during such dire times, especially in U.S. democracy, he could not in good conscience be complacent and not take action. Just as he was drawn to serve his district in El Paso as a 6 year city council member and a 3-term congressman, he believes that at this moment, he has a purpose to serve the whole nation by being as actively involved in the national discussion as possible—to stand up to bigotry and divisiveness displayed by the current administration of the White House. Beto basically confirmed what I had thought after further inspection when he clarified his statement later (Google it. I’m having trouble with my hyperlinks right now). Could he have worded it better? Sure. I just reject the notion that this one gaffe is supposed to sum him up as an egotistical maniac… please. 

“He adds absolutely no value to the race”

This is arbitrary depending on what your key issues are, but I’m gonna give my take on why I think he’s an excellent addition to the race. So, I’ve been intrigued about the possibility of an O’Rourke presidential run since he’s hinted at it back in November. I really didn’t know much about him until toward the end of Midterm season, but the more I learned, the more impressed I became. (Side note: it was this clip that first caught my full attention.) What really fueled my interest in Beto though, was his stance on immigration. As a first generation Nigerian American, this topic is pretty personal to me. My parents were fortunate enough to have the opportunity to immigrate to America and raise me and my three other siblings. However, I’ve also seen firsthand the difficulty of not only getting through with the ridiculous process but also assimilating into this country. For so long, the Democrats haven’t really made immigration a central issue, until the Trump administration hijacked it and pushed the Overton window all the way to the right. With heightened xenophobia running rampant in this country as a result of this abhorrent presidency, it is pertinent that the Democrats not merely pay lip service to this issue any longer and take serious action. Beto has an advantage here: He’s grown up in and served as a U.S House Rep. in the border district of El Paso, also home to the largest binational community in the Northern hemisphere. He can add a lot to the national discussion and debate on the matter. When Trump came to El Paso, the local community organized a counter rally where Beto gave an impassioned speech about the border wall and immigration. It’s pretty long, but I highly recommend the watch. Furthermore, Beto has outlined a 10 point proposal on how best to approach the immigration issue, along with some facts about the border’s history, which you can read here. Immigration hasn’t really been a winning issue, and I honestly don’t see it being one in 2020. With that being said, I respect the fact that despite this, Beto has shown that this is an issue that he deeply cares about. If I’m being honest, even though comprehensive immigration reform is universally called for amongst Democrats, I doubt that anyone in the field will truly make immigration a main priority in their prospective presidencies. To me, Beto has shown that he will. Even if he doesn’t clinch the nomination, it still means a ton to me that we can have the potential to change the narrative of immigration in this country with serious discussion. With the way Beto is able to convey his message, I am hopeful for what’s to come.  

So, let’s talk about Texas. With the way Beto was able to energize the Democratic base in Texas, Democrats have the opportunity to put the Republican bastion state into play. With 38 electoral votes at stake, Texas is extremely crucial for the GOP. To put things in perspective, if Texas turned blue in 2016, President Hillary Clinton would have been a thing.

*Bonus: “He Lost to Ted Cruz lol… already a nonstarter”

Yes. But you know who else lost to Ted in Texas? Donald Trump. Cruz obliterated him in the Texas Republican primaries. I’m not saying Texas is guaranteed to turn blue with Beto on the ballot, but if we learned anything in 2016, it’s not to underestimate the possibility of seemingly blue or red states to flip at any given moment. The GOP has taken note of this. We’ve seen that Beto has a ton of appeal in Texas amongst not only Democrats but Never-Trump-Republicans and independents as well! If Beto is on that ballot, the GOP will most likely exhaust a ton of resources and money into Texas to keep it from going blue. This will only make other states that Trump won with the slimmest of margins vulnerable. Also… I find it disingenuous to make comparisons between Beto and other senators that hail from deeply blue states regarding electability. If Beto lost to Ted in California, then yeah… we could have a conversation about that.

“A woman running mate is his preference? Who does he think he is?”

The backlash on this surprised me, to be honest… Even Whoopi Goldberg blasted his ass for the statement on The View.  If I had to go on a whim here, I feel like it was the Vanity Fair article that sort of set the mood for Beto’s campaign thus far… because otherwise, I believe that this really wouldn’t have been a story. In fact, Beto is not the only male candidate to call for a woman VP. Cory Booker and Bernie Sanders have strongly hinted at choosing a woman running mate. Interestingly enough, I didn’t recall there being any backlash. Here are Beto’s full remarks on choosing a woman as his running mate:

"It would be very difficult not to select a woman with so many extraordinary women who are running right now, but first I would have to win and there's-- you know, this is as open as it has ever been."

This is very much the response I expected from Beto. Time and time again, he has openly acknowledged his privilege, even before getting hammered about it on social media. In the Vanity Fair article, he states his stance on lack of representation in Washington:

“The government at all levels is overly represented by white men,” he says. “That’s part of the problem, and I’m a white man. So if I were to run, I think it’s just so important that those who would comprise my team looked like this country. If I were to run, if I were to win, that my administration looks like this country. It’s the only way I know to meet that challenge.”

Furthermore, he is understanding and considerate of the fact that people are craving for diversity.  Here’s what he says:

“But I totally understand people who will make a decision [cast a vote in the primaries] based on the fact that almost every single one of our presidents has been a white man, and they want something different for this country. And I think that’s a very legitimate basis upon which to make a decision. Especially in the fact that there are some really great candidates out there right now.”

I know I don’t speak for all POC or women, but as a WOC myself, I took no issue to his statements. In fact, I appreciate his sensitivity to the issue and the fact that he doesn’t shy away from addressing uncomfortable topics in politics, such as race and representation.

Let’s just be glad he didn’t pull a Hickenlooper…. Jesus.

“Light on policy… but he stands on counters amirite?”

To discuss this point, it’s important to understand Beto’s campaign style. Beto is more like a blank canvass. What he does is first listen to people and their concerns, and then from there, he shapes his policies around that. He feels that this is the best way to serve the people. The point of his road trips and tours was not to lecture people on full fleshed policy proposals. There is debate on whether or not this is an effective strategy, and I do understand that people do like to know exactly what they’re signing up for before casting a vote. That’s why some people will more likely gravitate toward candidates like Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren who have been consistent in their messaging. However, I also think people underestimate the power of simply listening. Take these comments that a potential voter made concerning Beto’s ability to listen during his stop in South Carolina for example:

"I think if he keeps talking to the people and being able to listen, and not talk at the African-American voters. Talk to us. Listen to what we have to say… As long as you listen and then actually put forward ideas that are legitimate ideas to do things, then he will be fine.”

 While policy specifics are important, this is still the early stages of Beto’s campaign. Specifics, of course, will have to come at some point, especially when debates come around. Another critique I hear is Beto not having any policy proposals on his website yet. He’s not alone though.  Several candidates who have been running longer than he has don’t either. It’s also important to note that while people in the race most likely have been mulling a presidential run for several months or years, this has been something that came around to Beto as recent as November 2018. Stuff like this takes time. I think he has potential, however, in this area. For instance, as I mentioned earlier, he has put out a 10-point proposal on immigration. He also has a brief 5-point plan regarding criminal justice reform and legalization of marijuana. (Fun fact, he even coauthored a book concerning the legalization of weed.)  And it’s not like he hasn’t taken stances on issues ever either… I mean, he has a whole congressional record, and his townhalls give you an idea of where he stands on key issues. 

Oh... and about the countertops. Ugh. The fact that this really sparked outrage is comical. I’ve seen all sorts of takes on this from asserting his male dominance to throwing his youth in Bernie and Biden’s faces (lmao). At a campaign stop, the owner of the coffee shop that he was at asked him to stand on the countertop because people complained that they weren’t able to see Beto amongst the crowds and camera equipment (despite him being 6’4’’, ha). So then it just became a thing since. And he’s respectful about it in case anyone was wondering, lol. But there’s one thing I think both the Beto detractors and I can agree on: why tf is this getting media coverage? I do agree that there should be more coverage for other candidates concerning the real issues. However, the response shouldn’t be to go after Beto or chastise him for doing harmless acts during his campaign stops… Talk that up with the media. The ironic thing about this is that some of the media pundits complain about giving Beto so much coverage… all while giving Beto more coverage about the coverage he’s receiving… 🙄

So if you made it to the end of this extremely long effortpost, thank you. I actually had tons more to discuss but I’m not trying to make this into a novel. Anyways, I’ll say one last thing: 

Before going along with groupthink or engaging in the toxic political echo chamber that is Twitter, I implore you all to take a step back and actually get to know these candidates. Seek after local news outlets when candidates visit to get a feel of the vibes from locals. Go to Beto’s Facebook page and watch a town hall or two. You may come home with a different impression than what is portrayed in mainstream media. I can tell you that when I did this, the difference was night and day.  We have such an amazing field of contenders to choose from, and I’d hate for misinformation or bad-faith arguments to warp perceptions.   

[bussanbaby]

With the sun setting over New York, Magnus and Alec stumble through the main door, letting it click shut behind them. With his arm around Magnus’ back, Alec leads him over to the couch, supporting a big part of the warlock’s tired weight. The loft is alight with golden rays of the sun, everything so seemingly peaceful compared to what they had gone through just a couple of hours earlier.

It’s almost like the stressful day had never happened, but the lines of exhaustion, both physical and mental, are obvious in the furrow of Magnus’ brow, in the way he slumps into the soft seat with a bone-deep sigh. With his elbows set on his knees, Magnus rubs at his face with his fingers, not even paying much attention to his eye makeup, with how distracted he is.

When they returned from the core maintenance room, a little bit ruffled and still coming off the high of adrenaline, the OPS centre had been a mess - Jace held Raj pinned down against the table and a couple of other lower-rank Shadowhunters were stood by the far wall, guarded by Izzy and Clary. Alec should’ve expected the opposition to his idea if he had to be honest, given what has been said about him in the recent weeks by some of the staff  - at least everything worked out despite Raj’s interference, they’re all alive, the plan worked, and the Institute is still standing where it should be.

At first, Magnus just seemed tired, out of breath and jittery with all the magic that had been running through his fingers just moments before, but as they made their way back home, the excitement wore off, swapped for heavy limbs and a sleepy smile.

Magnus leans against the couch, letting his head fall back against the cushions, looking up at Alec who’s standing in parade rest, hands clasped behind his back.

“I don’t think I’ve taken a cab since the New York Knicks won their first NBA championship back in the seventies,” Magnus muses, his lips quirked up and eyes twinkling with what has to be a mix between nostalgia and mirth.

Alec shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the blue armchair, rolling his shoulders. He can feel a headache coming on, a slight throbbing in his temples, probably as a result of Lorenzo going on and on about every portrait of him and all the various ways each artist has captured the essence of his smile; people bickering around him all day and questioning his authority perhaps had something to do with it as well.

“What about a martini, a hot bath, and a steak, medium rare?” Alec offers, coming up behind Magnus to set his palms on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles there.

A noise akin to a moan wrings itself out of Magnus as he pushes into Alec’s touch, eyes dipping closed with bliss.

“You read my mind, darling. But the bath comes first, I feel like I got hit by a bus.”

“Pure angelic power can do that to you,” Alec chuckles, pushing his thumb into a very tight knot of muscle in the junction of Magnus’ neck. “You sit tight, I’m gonna go and start the water.”

Alec kicks off his shoes and heads to the bathroom, turning the knobs until steam starts rising from the water and then adds in the bath soaks and essential oils. The scents mingle together, creating a lovely aroma of flowers and herbs. When he turns back, Magnus is standing at the entrance, shoulder pressed against the doorjamb, his eyes half-lidded and a soft smile on his face.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right back,” Alec says and Magnus nods at him as he starts to shrug out of his suit jacket with a grimace.

Socked feet padding across the floor, Alec beelines for the apothecary and towards the second-top shelf in the corner of the room. He’s looking for a small, jade-glass bottle with a dropper on top - he finds it way in the back, still half full.

Magnus is already halfway through unbuttoning his shirt which halts Alec’s steps as he decides to just enjoy the moment. Hearing a noise, Magnus looks up with the hint of a smirk playing on his mouth.

“Enjoying the view, are we?” he quips, making quick work of the rest of the buttons and slipping out of the shirt to hand it over to Alec.

“Don’t mind me, go on,” Alec chuckles, folding the shirt haphazardly to deposit it on top of the laundry hamper. Unsurprisingly, his gaze drifts back to the expanses of Magnus’ chest, tempting Alec to run his fingertips against Magnus’ sternum and down his stomach.

“How about you join me? The bath’s big enough for two,” Magnus proposes with feigned innocence, shrugging one shoulder as he works on undoing his pants - it’s a bit more difficult to do without magic (and when the belt buckle is in the back).

Alec holds his breath for a moment, tempted by the suggestion. He should catch up on reports for the day, consult Izzy about the demonic possession footage, but Magnus is right there to hold and the water looks so deliciously warm that he can’t help himself; he breathes out.

“I could use some down time,” Alec aims for an unaffected tone, but Magnus sees right through the facade, raising one questioning eyebrow. Alec rolls his eyes fondly. “Oh, shut it.”

Magnus breathes out a laugh as Alec steps closer to him, deft hands helping to set the buckle free and tug the belt out of the loops. This close, Alec allows himself to look, to take in every line and curve of Magnus’ body, the way the late afternoon light makes his skin glow better than any highlighter he has on his vanity.

This is not about the sexual kind of closeness, not this time - it’s about the feeling of safety, winding down in the presence of the person you trust with your life, letting the walls down, figuratively and literally at once. It’s about taking care of each other.

Magnus’ wide shoulders are slumped slightly and he seems ready to fall asleep across any horizontal surface when Alec grabs his hands gently where they hang at his sides, aware of the sore spots magic has left behind. “Take some of my strength.”

Magnus pulls his eyebrows together and tilts his head in a half-aborted headshake.

“Alexander…”

“Come on, even a little bit, just so you can get your mojo back quicker,” Alec insists, running his thumbs over the blue veins on the insides of Magnus’ wrists.

With the first touch of magic, Alec shivers as it tugs on his core - it’s not uncomfortable, per se, but it’s a strange feeling nonetheless, like an incorporeal arm reaching up along his spine, careful fingers searching his body for angelic power. By now, it has become somewhat familiar to him, the sensation of Magnus’ magic being something Alec’s soul leaps toward without a second thought.

Magnus takes a deep breath, already seeming more awake than just moments before as the energy continues to trickle between them through their linked hands. It slows to a stop and Magnus tilts his chin up to brush his lips against Alec’s. “Thank you.”

“This, as well,” Alec murmurs after they kiss, pulling the little potion bottle from his pocket and holding it up for Magnus to see.

Magnus opens his eyes, then purses his lips when he recognizes his own concoction, clearly labeled with curled handwriting.

“My rejuvenation serum? How did you know where it was?” he asks, seeming positively surprised and almost impressed, even with a task as simple as this.

“Well, I listen to you, believe it or not. Also, I spend a lot of time in the apothecary with you.”

Alec hands it over, watches Magnus uncork it and deposit two drops of it on the back of his hand before licking it off. He scrunches up as his nose at the supposedly bitter taste and Alec can’t help but smile with fondness.

“I don’t doubt that, you do tend to stare at my lips quite often.” Magnus sets the bottle aside after sealing it up and gets back to taking off his clothes without a hitch in their conversation.

So, he has noticed.

“I don’t stare, I appreciate,” Alec balks at Magnus’ words, huffing as he pulls his henley over his head, dropping it onto the floor. “And you can’t blame me, really, since they’re so lovely.”

Alec is just telling the truth as it is - he’d kiss Magnus constantly if he ever had that option. And it’s not that he doesn’t pay attention, since he always values what Magnus has to say; sometimes his eyes just drift down to simply watch his boyfriend talk, to follow the curve of his lower lip as he pouts, lost in his own thoughts, or learn over and over again how they stretch into a smile, so tantalizingly close.

Magnus pauses, fingers hooked into the hem of his boxer briefs. “But are they more exquisite than Lorenzo’s fabrics?” he teases, his voice tinted with laughter.

“Magnus, I was winging it! He didn’t exactly give me much to work with,” Alec explains as he tugs his legs free from the confines of his jeans, having to take a step to the side to prevent himself from toppling over. “Well, until he started talking about himself being used as a baby model by an artist.”

At that point, Alec was just guessing his answers - apparently he had luck on his side, since that baby looked nothing like Lorenzo himself.

“El Greco?” “Yeah, how did you know?”

Magnus stops the water before the bath fills up too much and dips his fingers in, testing the temperature. His back is turned to Alec, but he can hear the disdain in Magnus’ scoff loud and clear. “Because he tells that story to anyone who has the patience to listen.”

He does seem like the type, Alec thinks. It took them maybe twenty minutes just to go through one room and he’s not even sure how many more there were. In some sort of way, Magnus making noise saved Alec from further extensive Lorenzo Rey history lessons.

“I thought he was going to talk my ear off about all of his antiquities! Your loft isn’t modest by any chance, but Rey’s just showing off with that mansion chock full of expensive crap.”

Almost simultaneously, they both tug their underwear down and step into the water, holding onto each other for balance.

The water feels blissfully hot against Alec’s skin, washing against his calves in little waves as Magnus sits down by the more rounded edge. He motions for Alec to come closer and moves them around until Alec ends up with his back pressed against Magnus’ chest, and with curious fingers tracing paths through the dark hair on his chest.

“Oh, I know! He’s always been like that, loving any attention coming his way. He thinks he’s the Jay Gatsby of warlocks.” Magnus’ voice resonates straight through Alec’s torso and he can already feel his own stress draining away - the problems with the Institute, the Greater Demon case - nothing exists in that very moment, just Magnus as a solid weight behind him and the water around them, tinted a faint purple with lavender.

Alec imagines Lorenzo in a Gatsby get-up, having read the book back in the days when he had free time, but then another, better fitting character comes to mind. Alec smiles to himself, a laugh bubbling up in his chest at the vision of the new High Warlock in a sparkly 20s’ dress.

“In reality, he is more of a Daisy, who also needs to hang back on the hair pomade. That ponytail is slicker than his attitude.” Alec tips his head back onto Magnus’ collarbone, as Magnus laughs shamelessly at the jab, making the water ripple around them with each breath; it’s Alec’s favorite sound.

He closes his eyes for a moment, tangling his fingers with Magnus’ and pulling their hands to rest on his stomach. Then, he adds, “He is so full of himself, he didn’t even realize I was just buying you time with the compliments.”

“Such an ass. And you did so well, my dear. I’ve never heard you talk with such passion about ceilings!” Magnus nods exaggeratedly, poking fun at Alec’s ‘professional’ acting skills; for how long he’s been a Shadowhunter, anyone would think he’d get better at acting, but alas it’s never been Alec’s strong suit, leaving him slightly panicked and searching for topics to grab onto. Considering the sudden circumstances of their heist, Alec is still proud of keeping his cool long enough around that pompous buffoon.

“I had to improvise somehow, I couldn’t let him see you making faces from behind his fancy couch. But you would make an excellent spy.”

Magnus chuckles, dropping a kiss on top of Alec’s messy hair that probably still smells like sandalwood. “We should start our own detective agency - Bane & Lightwood, here at your service. For the right price, of course.”

It’s a nice thought - Alec and Magnus, working together, solving crimes and helping people in need; kind of like they do now. Maybe in the end, their lives wouldn’t turn out so differently.

“That’s our retirement plan, then.”

It’s both casual and monumental, hanging in the air between them. Magnus stills above Alec, his chin resting against Alec’s head, who can sense him tense up a bit, before relaxing back into the water.

“I’m already looking forward to it.” Magnus’ voice snags on one of the words, gaining confidence as he finishes his sentence, having made up his mind about whatever thoughts he chooses to keep private for now. “I appreciated your help today. I would rather have you safe and sound somewhere else, but you being there with me meant a lot.”

Alec is glad to see Magnus open up more about his thoughts and feelings, as it allows them to understand each other better. Sometimes it’s easier to leave certain things unspoken, but they’re trying to go against that, to keep themselves open instead, to allow themselves comfort, understanding, and honesty - the cornerstones of a relationship to outlast time itself.

“Of course. I told you, I go wherever you go and if it means into danger, then so be it. I’m not leaving your side, never again,” Alec confesses, squeezing Magnus’ fingers between his.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” Magnus chuckles, tightening his embrace around Alec and making something warm bloom in his chest. Alec laughs as well, closing his eyes.

“Once or twice.”

[seilune]

The Ascension

Seilune descended the spiral staircase, her fingertips trailing across the smooth golden railing. She elevated her head with poise, an air of regality wafting about her as she strode into the sitting room. Seated on the divan were her parents, Lord Ashtal and Lady Ysune Astrande. Their eyes were glued to the entryway, having awaited the arrival of their daughter. Moments prior, the heiress was sobbing, feeling emotionally exhausted after that evening’s mission with the Agents. They had seemingly defeated the Divine along with the Cradle, but it came at a price. Agents fell to their untimely deaths at the hand of the twisted being, only to be resurrected during the Director’s time of anguish. She paused before taking a seat on the divan seated across from her parents, using the moment to further compose herself. A heavy breath gushed through her nostrils, flooding her body with a still and steady calm.

“Mother, father,” the heiress addressed as she finally occupied the space, bowing her head to them in respect. “I apologize for the quick retreat to my bedroom, I am feeling rather fati—“

Lord Astrande lifted a hand, stopping her. “No, no. It is quite all right, Seilune. Your mother and I are aware that the work you do with the Agents can be tedious and tiring.”

Lady Astrande glanced to her husband, nodding in agreement. “And we find your work and you quite admirable,” she chimed in, smiling warmly to Seilune.

“Certainly,” Ashtal added. “What you have done and what you continue to do has been towards ensuring the betterment of Suramar, the Shal’dorei, and...House Astrande.”

The heiress found the exchange rather cryptic. What has brought on such a conversation? She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly on a pointed knee.

“My Starflower,” Ashtal continued, his violet eyes peering into Seilune’s. “During your time as an Agent, you have endured so much. Abduction, injuries, ruined gowns…” He chuckled softly, shooting her a sly grin as he teased. “You have walked through fire and have only become more tempered.”

With the wave of his hand, Ashtal commanded a sword to materialize at his side. It was a sword Seilune rarely saw, a sword of legends. Kal’Serrar. He gripped his fingers tightly around the hilt, extending the blade horizontally to Seilune.

“You know the story of my father’s blade. It’s one you have heard all of your life,” he spoke as he tilted the weapon. “Please, tell it to me.”

A story she had heard all of her life—that was accurate. Seilune lost count millennia ago of the number of people who would told her of her grandfather’s immense sense of honor, and of the sacrifice he made for Suramar. She was always referred to as the “granddaughter of High Lord Astrande,” never allowed the privilege of having an identity of her own. No matter how diligently she worked to create her own legacy, she was always cheapened by her association with others. The heiress looked to her mother, who gave her a reassuring smile and nod. “Your father—my grandfather, Raveis Astrande, he was the first wielder of Kal’Serrar,” she began. “The blade was crafted from the finest of steels and enchanted with the waters of the Well of Eternity. It allowed him to unleash devastating attacks, serving him well as he fought against the Troll tribes who tried to hinder the expansion of the Night Elf empire. Kal’Serrar was at his side when he helped found Suramar City and when he built Aubade, and it remained at this side from then on. That is...until the Legion invaded during the War of the Ancients.”

She paused, searching her father’s visage. This part of the tale had always troubled him. Ashtal bore a somber expression, his gaze now trickled to the floor. He spoke no words, simply waving a hand to tell her to continue.

“He fought nobly in the war, cutting down demons left and right until he came face-to-face with a Felguard commander, Xarzinar. He managed to overpower grandfather, shattering his body and Kal’Serrar along with him. But you, father—you slayed the demon and retrieved the broken pieces of the blade. After the war and the erection of the barrier, you had it repaired and infused with the essence of the newly-formed Nightwell. Since then it has been kept safe, never allowed to leave the walls of our manor.”

“Until now,” the Lord added, trailing his gaze up to his daughter’s visage.

Seilune canted her head to the side in confusion. “Until now?” She questioned, repeating his words.

Ashtal reached across the coffee table that separated him and his daughter, taking her hand in his own. “Seilune, your mother and I are fully aware of what has transpired in Darkshore, as well as the burning of Teldrassil. We know that it is only a matter of time before the Alliance come looking for blood. In these dire times, our House needs to be led by someone who can persevere. Like Kal’Serrar, you have been broken. But you have come out more resilient because of it. With each trial you have faced—with each victory and loss, you have been retempered, your faith and focus never wavering. Which is why…”

He glanced to Ysune, who nodded curtly. “...I am passing the mantle on to you, Starflower,” he declared, squeezing Seilune’s hand gently.

Suddenly, it felt as though the entire weight of the world fell upon Seilune’s shoulders. She already bore immense responsibility as an Agent, weaving alliances and working to maintain peaceful relations. As an Arcanist, she thwarted the enemies of the Shal’dorei, either incapacitating them with her charm or breaking them beneath the might of her power. But lately, she questioned her own prowess. She was unable to prevent the outbreak of the War of the Thorns, and she was unable to protect her fellow Agents, whose lives had been snuffed out within the Divine’s grasp. Could she truly lead her House?

Seilune’s throat tightened as the anxiety took hold. In desperation, she reached to her hyoid bone, clawing at the invisible force that tried to strangle her. “F-Father...,” she managed to stammer. “Are you sure? You have lead our House for over 10,000 years. The distillery was founded by you, and it was you who made our wine so enjoyed by our people. This...this is all so sudden. I...I don’t think I am ready or even worthy to be.”

Sympathy was etched into Ashtal’s features as he listened to Seilune’s meanderings. Looking at his daughter was like looking at his own reflection, but not because she looked so much like him. Rather, because he was once in that very position. “I felt the same way when I became Lord,” he replied softly. “I was much younger than you, my father had just died, and your mother and I had been married only a short while—I didn’t think it was my time. But what you must learn to understand, my Starflower, is that things don’t always go according to plan. You can plan out your entire life and in an instant, it can be shattered. It is during times of immense pressure when one either bends or breaks and you, my dear, will adjust.”

“The…” He paused briefly, sighing heavily as he mustered the bravery to speak the words. “The shame I brought upon our House—I simply cannot be expected to lead it admirably no longer. My father did not found this House and build this estate for them to scatter like ashes in the wind. No, no. He wished for it to stand the test of time. But you, Seilune. You can. Your quick thinking is what saved us all. Your position as a diplomat and an ambassador, it has allowed us to bask in the limelight once more. We are prosperous again because of you and, because of you, we will continue to be.”

He lifted her hand to Kal’Serrar, gently wrapping her fingers around the hilt. “The days of Lord Raveis and Lord Ashtal Astrande are over. Now begins the era of Lady Seilune Astrande. With this blade, it is time for you to carve out your legacy.”

Seilune swallowed hard, apprehension riddling her to the bones. But she wasn’t about to abandon her responsibilities. The future of her House depended on her, and she knew what she must do to ensure its longevity. Her fingers settled into the grooves of the hilt and she gripped it tightly. With a touch of flair, she lifted the blade towards the heavens, the chandelier bathing the heirloom in a golden light. “Mother, father. I will make you both proud. I will lead our House to newer and better heights. We will stand upon the precipice of greatness, looking across the expanse from the loftiest of heights. The world will know our name and admire it, and our line will continue to flourish. Ru-shanna Astrande!”

[valkyrieofvalhalla]

The Burden of Perceived Motherhood

What is a woman’s life worth, outside of her ability to have children or conceive? Seemingly nothing. Who is a woman, if not a mother or a potential mother? Seemingly no one. This is, by and large, the average belief held by the average person. It may not be so blatant with some, but the fact of the matter is that the majority of people – whether they be religious or not, feminist or not, progressives or conservatives – refuse to detach motherhood from womanhood. How can you be a woman if you are not a mother, and do not want to be one? This insidious attitude rests within the societal collective mind, popping up in various forms and demanding that we as women must adhere to our “biological destiny”. This malignant and pervasive perspective tells a woman she must have children – it’s expected of her to want them, to seek out a future of births and diapers and raising babies – and if this woman does not want this for herself, this perception tells her that she is too stupid to understand her own wants and needs. Silly woman,you don’t know yourself that well. Stupid woman, you don’t understand the kind of decision you’re making.

It is, frankly, insulting.

I very recently experienced something rather troubling; a reminder of the adamant belief held by most that a woman’s fate rests in her uterus. I call this belief perceived motherhood – where people expect you to have a child even when you don’t want one. They belittle you by insisting that you don’t know what you actually want out of life. This happened to me not from strangers, or religious fanatics, but my own self-proclaimed and otherwise liberal ‘friends’. These two friends – one a woman (W) and one a man (M) – are people who have known me for nearly a decade. I have been adamantly childfree for longer than that. This is something about my own life that I’ve been incredibly vocal and steadfast about. I have never wavered in my decision to refrain from procreating, nor will I. They know this. Yet what they said to me was a supremely hurtful reminder that to many I’m not a person – just an incubator.

It started with the both of them saying that they could see me having children, but only boys. Something about me, my personality, screamed baby boys. At this early point in the conversation, I was fine and playing along, even if I did disagree. It was all in good spirit anyways – just playful ribbing. Except that it wasn’t. What I thought were silly jokes was actually a deeply rooted belief that they both held that I would be a mother one day, no matter what. When they said to me, “Yeah, A, you’re totally gonna have boys.” I replied, “No, not this womb. Closed for business!”

They pushed. W: “You say that, but you’re wrong! People always have ironic stuff happen to them, like my aunt. She made fun of my mom for having an ugly baby, and then BAM – she was the one with the ugly baby.”

M: “Yeah, you’re gonna find a man who dicks you so good that you’ll keep the baby.”

At this point, although I was getting agitated, I continued to play along because I still thought they were teasing me. I never would’ve guessed that my own longtime friends thought so little of me, or of my values and wants. I said to them, “Maybe you guys don’t understand English as well as I thought ya’ll did. NO –” I pointed to my lower stomach “– salida!”

M: “No, A, you’re gonna find a man and he’s gonna get you pregnant. You’re gonna have kids.”

A: “I’ll abort them. They ain’t surviving the wasteland of my vagina.”

R: “No, see, they’re gonna be like Charlie [Kelly; a character from ‘It’s Always Sunny’]. The abortion won’t take. You’ll try and try and he’ll live. You won’t abort him because you can’t.”

A: “Nope, not happening. There isn’t a sperm strong enough out there to survive my kind of abortion – it’s not gonna happen.”

This, unbelievably, went on for some time. There even came a point where R said to me verbatim, “Look at your boobs, those were made for milking.” and Z agreed, saying, “Yeah, you can feed, like, six kids with those.”

Milking. Because I’m an animal. Not a person. Because my large breasts make me unfit for anything but childrearing. To them, I’m a pair of tits and ass (or rather, tits and vag).

I wanted the conversation to end. I was uncomfortable, flabbergasted by the ‘milking’ comment and frankly so done with the topic of children. I just wanted to go home. But they continued, bringing up with delight scenarios in which I would be forced to have children against my will.

Yes, you read that right. My own friends excitedly told me about a variety of futures in which I was forced to carry a child to term – and bear the burden of all the consequences associated with pregnancy and birth. To any rational person, that should be considered utterly heinous. Oftentimes, many abusers will sabotage forms birth control and force their wives or girlfriends to carry a child to term in order to further entangle them in the relationship. The unfortunate woman is more reluctant, or even outright unable to leave the volatile, unhealthy relationship when a child is involved. In some ways, forced birth can even be considered rape. At it’s core, it’s a violation of a person’s basic human rights: the right to choose what happens to their own body.

R said to me, “Ohh, what if you’re in a coma and you’re pregnant and you have kids like that! Or like ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ [a show we’d both been watching, about a religious society which takes away women’s rights and forces them to be sex slaves with the ultimate goal of birth] where you have sex with three different men before you get pregnant [referencing how, in the show, if the slaves don’t give birth after 3 “assignments” they get shuttled off to a radioactive wasteland to die] –”

At this point I cut her off. I’d had enough; I was blind with rage at the references to The Handmaid’s Tale. Fury flowed through me at the thought that my ‘friends’ were so desperate to see me have children that my forced pregnancy was a happy and likely scenario to them (remember, they were talking about how everyone has ‘ironic’ lives). This wasn’t joking anymore; it wasn’t even joking to begin with, really. Because they have said before that they just can’t see me as anything but a mother. And that night, they were saying it again – but with a fervor and insistency that both angered and frightened me.

I told them off. I told them that I was not getting pregnant because I hate the idea of being a mother. I see pregnant women and I get angry (this is an issue due to my own upbringing; I’ll get to it soon). I think of pregnancy and I want to vomit. I absolutely 100% abhor the idea of a parasite growing inside of me, feeding on my body, my nutrients, crushing my organs and generally fucking with me.

I’ve been forced to care for my younger sibling as though I was her mother from a very young age; when I was older, I was forced to care for my ailing parents alongside my sibling. I’ve never been allowed to be a child. I’ve never been given the opportunity to have fun and live life carefree, without any worry. Many of my peers were able to be young and enjoy it. I had to sacrifice all that so my family wouldn’t suffer. I couldn’t go to college, I couldn’t seek out a career that I enjoyed. Ultimately, I couldn’t even enjoy my own earnings because they went to caring for my brat sister and my parents who, in their senility, were reverting to child-like thinking and mannerisms. In essence, I was a mother of three.

Let me tell you now, with full conviction and in all sincerity and seriousness: I despise having dependents. I never, EVER want to be in a situation where someone needs me or they’ll die/suffer again. The stress of doing what I had to do gave me moderate depression. I was hospitalized, constantly felt despair and anguish, and felt like there was no hope for me. I could not live the life I wanted, or be the person that I truly was, because of my dependents.

I hate it, and I will do anything to avoid it happening again.

I also grew up in a Muslim household, with a fanatical family who frequently told me (among other disgusting things) that I am destined to be a mother, and that if I won’t bear children no man will want me; I will die alone and unhappy. I both reject and detest the sentiment – I am a person outside of my ability or willingness to conceive.

Furthermore, I have experienced some of the things the women in The Handmaid’s Tale do. I was almost a teen bride, the only thing standing in the way was my father miraculously saying no, he wouldn’t sell me to a stranger just yet. I have visited my parent’s country of origin and was forced to wear hijab. In that country, I was subjected to a number of demeaning things, such as a curfew, not being allowed entrance to places, being hit, being threatened with violence, being told not to entice men by crossing my legs – you get the idea.

I remember encountering so many women who were my age at the time (15) and even younger being married off. I remember meeting a woman who was married to a man three times her age when she was twelve years old; at the time she was in her early thirties, and had continued the tradition with her own daughters. She became a great-grandmother in my time there. Above all, I experienced people from every side hounding on me that I was a woman, therefore I would also be a mother. No matter what. Womanhood = motherhood. I, apparently, could not be one without the other. These are things about my past my friends know, which is why their comments hurt me so much.

I know what I want for myself. I don’t want children. I won’t have them. I sincerely believe in the phrase “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”. I am a human being, with certain inalienable rights. One of these rights is to choose what happens to my body. I can be an organ donor. I can get buried instead of cremated. I can have tattoos and cut my hair. And, ultimately, I can choose to never have my womb put to use. I knew, from the ripe old age of eleven, that I didn’t want to be a mother. Just about everything else in my life that I’ve experienced has reinforced this.

I shouldn’t even have to say why I don’t want children. It should be as simple as “I don’t want them” and that’s that. But instead, people hound and badger and question – and in doing so, belittle those they are speaking to. As I said earlier, it is evident that women, though we may have our rights in the western world, are still thought of primarily as mothers.

I am a person god fucking damn it! I am a person, first and foremost, and my life has value and meaning outside of children. I can impact society for the better without being a mother. I can accomplish great feats without being a mother. I can learn and create and help society and people progress – all without ever having given birth. And even if I don’t do these things, my life holds meaning. I’m important, not because I’m a potential mother, but because I am a human being.

I am intelligent, I am caring and creative and enjoy history and want to work for the CDC or the WHO one day. I want to be a part of the trips to Mars. I like writing fiction. Noir is one of my favorite genres. I like fashion and minimalism and want to better myself physically and mentally. I see many futures and possibilities for myself. I hope I can become a scientist, like I want. I hope I can help eradicate disease.

I am a person, simple as that. Kids don’t make me who I am. I have worth, by virtue of being me. No one can take that from me. No one will.

I stand strong in the face of this burden of perceived motherhood because I know who I am, I know what I want out of life, and no one is going to take my liberty from me.

“I am the master of my fate

 I am the captain of my soul”

 -         ‘Invictus’, William Ernest Henley

[a-l-y-s-s-a-w]

on choices & doubt: scattered thoughts

We're day 40-something into shelter in place, as a result of COVID-19. This is such a unique time and while the days feel long, the weeks still manage to fly by.

This situation has given me an exceptional amount of time to process, reflect, and unpack. Sometimes my thoughts just get stuck, so I need to write them out... after all that's what this blog is for, right?

___

A couple of months ago I was sitting at a coffee shop in Berkeley. We were in a corner spot on two opposing bucket chairs, worn enough that you could sink into them but firm enough that you didn't become swallowed whole. With windows nearby, we were left with a perfect view of the pouring rain outside. Isn't rain mesmerizing?

And I can't remember when.. maybe born of small talk or maybe born of trying to lighten the mood but at some point in the conversation my friend Ava asked me, "do you like the rain?".

And in that moment even with my guard down, I froze. I repeated the question to myself, "do I like the rain?" I wasn't sure. I do. But do I? I don't really. But don't I?

I remember those floral rain boots outlined in pink I had in college (ha!) – seemingly made for a child but perfectly fitting for my childish spirit. I remember looking at the rain clinging so delicately to each blade of grass after a spell of rain. I remember sitting in the back of that Lyft ride in Nashville realizing I was half-way across the country, just me. I remember the slowness, the careless freedom that rain brings.

I remember all the moments driving, where my wiper blades were severely outmatched. I remember standing by the park under the freeway, figuring out how to call an audible for SYTE Senior Sendoff. I remember the feeling of wet jeans, suctioned to your then shivering legs. I remember the inconvenient, uncomfortable disruptions that rain brings.

Racking my brain, I couldn't find an answer – how could I possibly express the summation of my experiences with the rain in a simple word? And saying "sometimes"... now that just wouldn't do it justice.

I've thought a lot about that moment. It was a simple question. And frankly, Ava could probably care less what I generally think about the rain let alone in that moment. But I'm still thinking about it.

Do I like the rain?

Now, I realized that if you conversely asked me, "do you like the sun?" I wouldn't hesitate to say yes. But I give no thought to all the moments I have felt fatigued from it beating down, or the times when all I could focus on was where the next place with air conditioning would be. It's easy to say yes to something because it's just celebrating what is, but saying no feels like rejecting the very essence of it.

Saying a simple "no" meant rejecting the very essence of a part of creation that brings life and nourishment. It meant rejecting the defining weather that my Seattle-self was raised on. It meant trading in all of the good moments to ally myself with the despair found in the bad ones.

[author's note: gosh do I sound crazy yet? sometimes I wonder how I get through the day]

In tandem with these thoughts, I've also been thinking a lot about expectation. The freedom I've found during shelter-in-place is no doubt correlated to the seemingly lessening expectation I feel from myself or others. There's a lot to unpack here but for this purpose it's simply a combination of it all – the expectation I know has been placed on me, the expectation I have unfairly told myself is on me from other people, and in turn the expectations I have for myself. To this I ask, for what?

Now by no means is this comprehensive of all types of expectation but in this case I've realized that in placing so much weight onto myself I have left no wiggle room. While some people lessen their expectation to avoid disappointment, I do so by ensuring I meet each one. Does that make sense?

These expectations have become evident in so many areas of my life. In a recent lament prayer, one line I wrote was "I am frustrated that sweet moments with You feel discounted by moments of questioning You."

And in piecing these all together, I have drawn a connection. Questioning God feels like denying Him in sum, just as questioning the rain feels like rejecting the very essence of it. That's because the expectation I have bestowed upon myself is to not doubt, to never waver. I tell myself that "I should know better". It's a simple mantra of my own shame – born of the past and reinforced by the present. But this expectation didn't start that way, it was only brought first from a simple choice to say yes to God, or from being a rain-enjoying Seattlite.

Somewhere along the way, choices become my obligation. Somewhere along the way, what begins casual twists into what has to be.

What now? The expectation I have for myself is to take this knowledge, do something about it, and just use it to "be better". I can try to execute on that, but that's what I have been doing. I'm simply choosing to sit with this, of which writing about it was a solid start. Knowing that I'm not content as is, but not so quickly dismissing the heart in favor of the head either.

Today's divinely timed message happened to touch on the intersection of doubt and faith. I'm reminded of the delicate dance of these two things, that they don't live at opposite ends but instead remembering how each one is often brought out by the other. I know that doubt or turning away from something doesn't erase everything that was. I know that saying no to something doesn't mean rejecting it in full. I know that choices are not always life-binding, never-wavering obligations.

So for now, I lift up these burdens & thoughts. I acknowledge the inherent doubts found in my heart, as they relate to all things. I choose to not be driven by shame but instead look squarely at it. And I choose hope in the reality of a world that brings disappointment.

[lati-will]

The Full Moon & Lunar Eclipse In Leo – Shining Light On A Darkened World

The first Lunar Eclipse of 2017 will take place overnight this Friday and Saturday, Feb. 10 and 11, as the Full Moon in Leo passes through the shadow of the Earth. This powerful alignment marks our entry into a new pattern of awareness that will heavily influence humanity’s new direction through 2017 and beyond. Reflected by several key astrological alignments, we are entering a new stage of personal and collective development — a time in which we will truly begin to know ourselves, learning to free ourselves of past conditioning and patterns, and bringing new light to a dark and seemingly broken world.

Let’s look at the energy patterns that will shape and reflect our evolution of consciousness during this lunar cycle.

Saturn in Sagittarius Trine Uranus in Aries Trine the Full Moon in Leo.

When we look into the outside world today, we see reflections of devastating and disturbing things, with so much confusion and heavy-heartedness being felt in so many lives. Although it may be painful, we are in a vital process of deep ego deconstruction — a process of breaking down illusions and awakening to the truth of our co-created reality.

The current evolutionary path for us right now, and indeed since 2012, has been directing us toward finding more space and freedom, and to liberate ourselves from the illusions that bind us to this needless cycle of human suffering. Marked by the onset of the powerful vibration that Pluto and Uranus have reflected since 2012, we have progressively witnessed and experienced the breakdown of social conditioning and outdated systems. Now, the trine alignments Saturn and Uranus are forming with the Full Moon and Lunar Eclipse reflect a new energy signature — one that breathes fire and life into the expression that is our own personal destiny.

These theme will continue throughout 2017, as global crises reflect the collective shadow for all to see, forcing each of us to decondition ourselves of the ‘old ways’ of being and create new ways that align with our own personal version of reality. As a smaller cycle within the bigger cycles, this is the point where we begin tipping the scales into our own hands. Illusions will continue to collapse and the truth keep finding its way to the surface, and so, as lightwarriors, we must each stand in our personal power and sovereignty. The collective heart has broken, and now, the healing process can begin. This is a time when we will truly begin to bring new light to this broken world.

Jupiter in Libra and the Full Moon in Leo quincunx Chiron in Pisces

Combined with the energy of tonight’s Lunar Eclipse, this alignment promotes a very profound shift in our attention; for the first time, we are collectively beginning to recognize the necessary process of integrating and healing the shadow, if we are to reclaim the future direction of humanity and the planet we call home. The very nature of our times is offering a deep healing opportunity. Recent events are making the shadow increasingly more visible, and we are realizing that, on the path toward wholeness, we must first recognize, acknowledge and confront the collective shadow, in order that we may heal it.

However, as the chaos and collapse of the outside world becomes increasing more apparent, our times can feel very dis-heartening. The awakening of the spiritual heart is a profound opportunity we get to experience but we find ourselves having to always guard against the outer world and all its distortions. As we choose to find uplifting, self-validating experiences we are met in equal measure with resistance of old patterns of conditions that do not (and never did) support the healthy, happy and harmonious ways we are now choosing for ourselves. That is the paradox of this awakening process: our enlightenment at all levels is intrinsically linked to the deep pain we carry, and one cannot exist without the other; the light and dark, co-existing in duality, inevitably revealing themselves (and each other) by their escalating interplay.

Now, the alignment of Chiron in Pisces is offering us an energetic opportunity to recognize and let go of any and all illusions and falsehoods we still accept in our lives; of the patterns and beliefs that leave us feeling empty, while the alignment of Jupiter and the Full Moon encourages us to see that our destiny lies in our own knowing of who we really are; that our shadow is our path to wholeness, and that, if we reject it, we cannot know empathy for others on their path to wholeness, nor work toward healing the world from a truly integrated space.

In synchronicity, the energy of this alignment offers us an holistic reflection of ourselves, creating heart-opening experiences and helping us to break-down the amour and defenses we have developed against both conscious and unconscious trauma.

Jupiter in Libra square Pluto in Capricorn oppose Uranus in Aries

Finding the right rhythm; that’s a perfect description for how we will continue to experience the energy of these outer planets as they continue to play out their year-long alignment with each other. In particular, Jupiter in Libra will help with questions; about which relationships offer us true reflections of who and what we are, and which trigger our unconscious conditioning, and therefore, influence our life and our choices. While Pluto’s movement in Capricorn will promote the development of our new individual and collective roles and identities, Jupiter will also help us to find our next individual step within the changing whole, and answer questions such as: Which social context do we want to align to? What will be my contribution toward creating the future? What role will help us be more in the rhythm that we hear and feel? Through this interplay, Jupiter will also promote more focus on social equality and uplift, and show us ways in which sharing and inclusion can actually be ways of supporting ourselves, and each other, and resolving some of the big challenges humanity faces today. Meanwhile, Uranus continue to add fuel to the fire, drawing focus on our sense of freedom and helping us to break-down the expectations and limitations that have for so long constrained us from transforming those challenges into change.

The manifestation of these energies can express themselves in different layers, and in the outer world (and most particularly in the mainstream media) it may appear far more extreme and totally lost in the trauma of anger, hate, persecution and pain. But remember: This is all part of a collective awakening. Mass shifts in awareness are causing the collective body to break down, and while the new energies are clearly manifesting, this process is simultaneously as destructive as it is constructive/creative. This is a phase that we all must experience if we are to re-adjust our selves and our society in alignment with our truest nature. Individually, our calling now is to align to our own unique rhythmic nature, to act from that place of truth, and to inspire and guide others who awaken.

The Full Moon Message: A Total Eclipse of the Heart

In the spectrum of our consciousness, it is in the shadow that we see the light, and in our light, we are reminded of the shadow. So let’s take a torch and shine it on our pain. Let’s highlight the areas both within us and without us that are void of love. Let’s visit the places that we have closed off to others, and ourselves, because they hurt too much to be present with. We cannot go any further now without acknowledging and integrating those parts of ourselves and our journey, both individual and collective, and taking steps to heal the trauma and lack they present.

Go inside and find that place: observe and reflect on where you seek to compensate, where you feel uncomfortable, or constrained, and where you put on a brave face while inwardly feeling pain.  Maybe you experience these wounds through your interactions with others, where other people seem insensitive and unkind. Most often our pain is expressed through anger. So, what makes you angry? Maybe you can’t connect to the pain, or you don’t even notice it anymore, as you have built such strong walls around it. Go deeper…

When we seek to embody our true potential and live a life that is fulfilling to our soul, our wounds are experienced as the things that stand in our way. Our lack of confidence, our sense of limitation, our lack of support from others; it is all a reflection of our inability to prioritise our own happiness and integrity. But we are here to experience consciousness through the self: by learning who and what we are, and walking the path of our own heartfelt destiny.

The heart is breaking open. We are transforming our dynamic with each moment, giving ourselves the chance for deep self-love and acceptance of who we are. Until now, we have searched for happiness outside of ourselves because we were (and are) shown that in the outer world, the answers to life’s questions lie without. But in truth, what we seek shines from inside the essence within, the beingness we cultivate when we patiently pursue our heart’s deepest wishes. When we open our perceptions to what life brings us instead of chasing the life we are supposed, we begin to see opportunities for experience growth in every moment, and only then do we find the beauty and depth of our spirit, own unique expression of inspiration and love for life. Going inside, we find the right rhythm to groove to.

Ascension is an organic experience, and following our bliss instinct is our truest way to navigate through these times. So, during today’s Full Moon and Lunar Eclipse, and the rest of the lunar cycle, shift your attention and awareness inward. Do the things that awaken your heart. Go deep inside and learn who you are, as an individual, and find acceptance and balance in that knowing. Heal the dark and follow your light. And, when you find what makes you happy, fulfilled, empowered and purposeful, bring it out into the world. Build it. Share it. Create it. Make it real — and shine your light into the dark.

By: Simon & Jennifer

[anotherlifefic]

Chapter 47: Magic Lessons

Zelda took her place on the throne, and we gathered around her, with Ganondorf, Cassandra, Lana and Cia standing in front of us. Though Lana took that position mostly to keep Cia quiet.

Link was squirming uncomfortably next to me, and I could imagine why; Cia was leering at him like she was undressing him with her eyes. I moved to stand in front of him, and to my surprise, Ruto did the same. That way, everything but his face was out of sight for her.

„So, Ganondorf, former King of the Gerudo. Would you please repeat what you told me upon your arrival in the castle.“

„Of course, Your Majesty.“ His tone was patronising, and I clenched my fists. How dare he talk to Zelda like that?! He looked around. „Though first I must ask exactly how familiar the people in the room are with Hyrule‘s early history. Specifically about how the kingdom was established and what came before that.“

Empty stares. Zelda leaned back on the throne. „I fear that a lot of knowledge about this land prior to the founding of the kingdom of Hyrule has been lost to time.“

„Indeed. So let me give you a little lesson in history. Long before the kingdom of Hyrule was founded, this world was ravaged by a fierce war between two powerful deities. One of them was a goddess named Hylia, who served the three Golden Goddesses and protected the Triforce they had left behind. The other was an entity so fearsome and cruel that nobody ever spoke his name, and he was only ever called Demise, for demise is what he brought wherever he wandered. Demise sought to conquer the world and gain power of the Golden Goddesses for himself, while Hylia wished to protect the people of the world. Hylia was aided by a young warrior who, unlike the other humans, showed great courage in the face of the seemingly unbeatable Demise.“ At this point, Ganondorf paused, before commenting:„It sounds familiar, does it not, Your Majesty?“

„Indeed it does. But history has the tendency to repeat itself. What exactly are you trying to say with all of this?“, Zelda asked cooly.

Ganondorf smirked a little. „I was about to get to that point. So with the aid of the young hero, Hylia managed to defeat Demise. Defeat, but not destroy him. All she could do was seal him away, and she had to give up her own divinity to do so and being reborn as a human woman was the consequence of that. A woman with divine powers, but mortal nonetheless. Many centuries passed, and as the seal grew weaker, a new hero was chosen, and together with the incarnation of Hylia at the time, he destroyed Demise‘s physical form. But Demise could not be entirely destroyed. However, unlike Hylia, he did not reincarnate as a mortal. Instead, his evil infected a certain bloodline and manifested itself in all of its male descendants, which were… quite rare.“

„So you are the reincarnation of Demise?“, I blurted out.

His yellow eyes darted over to me. „Did you not listen, Glaces? No, I am not his reincarnation, but I am, or rather was, indeed the latest heir of his hatred. And when the Hero of Time pierced my heart with the Master Sword, Demise‘s essence was separated from me. So now I am free of its influence, but that also unfortunately means that Demise will possibly be able to manifest again.“

„And how does the Sorceress fit into all of this?“, Link asked, pushing his way past me and Ruto to stand in the front again and nodded in Cia‘s general direction. „We have been told that she was the guardian of the Triforce before she went mad.“

Ganondorf raised one eyebrow. „Can‘t you guess? The Sorceress was supposed to be Hylia‘s successor. The Goddesses did not allow her to interact with the world she was guarding, so she wouldn‘t make the same mistake as Hylia.“

„Well that backfired horribly“, Naboru commented.

Cia stomped her foot. „These wretched Goddesses! They must have reveled in my torment, my eternal solitude! And then they let the only soul capable of comprehending my torment dance to the tunes of their flutes right in front of my face, with no way of reaching him!“

„Cia! Quiet!“, Lana shushed her.

„Why should I?“, Cia snapped and strained against the crackling magical rope. „I am the guardian of the Triforce! For all intents and purposes, the Triforce, the Hero, this WORLD should belong to ME!“

„Good Goddesses, and I thought Rebecca was a spoiled brat“, I heard Ruto mumble.

„Excuse me?“, I asked dryly.

„You heard me.“

„Are you quite done?“, Ganondorf inquired.

Zelda sighed. „Yes. Please continue.“

He slightly tilted his head in acknowledgement and then continued:„As of right now, he hasn‘t recovered his physical form yet, which makes him exceedingly difficult to fight. It would be prudent to try and predict where he could manifest again, by placing guardians at every spiritually significant place in Hyrule.“

„So you mean the temples“, Naboru said.

„Indeed. However, Demise seems to have taken a certain interest in a certain Glaces. Or so I‘ve been told.“ Now Ganondorf‘s piercing gaze wandered over to me. „Why do you think that is?“

I shuffled my feet. Goddesses, how I hated feeling so vulnerable under his eyes. „...because I‘m the weakest link in the chain. Uh… no pun intended.“

He lifted his chin approvingly. „That is true. Of the people gathered here, you are the one who is most easily manipulated, and has the least actual combat experience. Even the Sage of the Forest managed to get quite strong with the help of the nature-based magic she is capable of using thanks to her status. You however are clumsy at best with your weapon and your magic is about as dangerous as a snowball.“

„Gee, thanks.“

„So“, Ganondorf continued, completely ignoring my sarcastic remark. „Her Majesty and I discussed the best course of action, and decided that it would be prudent for you to get some actual practice both with your naginata and your magic. I do not use a naginata, but I‘ve been told that you have already found an instructor who is more than capable. And I will be the one to instruct you in the art of magic.“

My jaw dropped, and I turned to Zelda. „Please tell me that this is a joke.“

„I don‘t really like it, either. But he is right; it is vital that you learn to control your powers, and to properly defend yourself.“

I bit my lip, and then glared at Ganondorf. „...Fine.“ After all, lover or not, Zelda was still my Queen, and her word was law. I could hardly just tell her „no“.

Zelda settled back into her throne. „Now that that‘s settled, we should probably get to questioning the sorceress.“

Ganondorf and Cassandra retreated to the sidelines, and Lana brought Cia a few steps closer to us.

„Cia, former guardian of the Triforce, sorceress of the Temple of Souls, you stand accused of attempted regicide, among other offenses. This could mean your doom, unless you choose to cooperate now and tell us what we want to know. Do you understand that?“

Cia glared at Zelda, until Lana nudged her. „Cia. Answer.“

„I understand“, she hissed in between gritted teeth.

We spent the next few hours questioning Cia, but she couldn‘t really tell us anything new, except that a mysterious voice had told her that she could easily bend or break the rules of fate if she so desired, and thus had slowly but surely corrupted her.

Once she had been brought back to the dungeon, the Sages bid their goodbyes as well.

Ganondorf turned to me again. „Your training will begin tomorrow morning. I will waiting on the training grounds usually used by the knights of Hyrule. At sunrise, and not a moment later.“

I cast Zelda a pleading gaze, which she returned sternly. Then I sighed. „Very well.“

Back at home I fed Gareth and put him in his playpen. My hands were shaking from the stress, so Link guided me to the sitting area in front of the fireplace and made me sit down on the couch.

„I‘ll come to the training grounds with you tomorrow“, he promised. „There‘s no way I will leave you alone with Ganondorf.“

„Thank you, dear“, I mumbled and leaned into his embrace. „I love you.“

„I love you too.“

The next morning, Link and I woke up while it was still dark outside, to get ourselves ready. We fed the horses and let them out of the stable for the day, then took a very sleepy and slightly fussy Gareth out of his grib. I stroked my little boy‘s cheek in an attempt to calm him down while we walked the winding path up to the castle.

Ganondorf was already waiting when we arrived. He raised his eyebrow when he saw Link and Gareth.

„Too cowardly to come here on your own, Glaces? Do you intend to use your husband and child as meatshields in case I have some nefarious plan?“

I grit my teeth. „I believe that using small children as meatshields is your shtick.“

Ganondorf chuckled darkly. „You‘ve got quite the sharp tongue, Glaces. Pity Demise can‘t be defeated by snide remarks, otherwise we‘d have already won. Can we start, then?“

„Fine.“

Link sat down on a crate standing near the entrance to the castle, while I approached Ganondorf.

The Gerudo began:„I suppose I do not need to go over the basics of channeling your magic again. You seem to already know how to do that. However, you have to learn to concentrate on the image you use to conjure up your spell much harder if you want it to be stronger.“

And so, for the next few hours, Ganondorf made repeat the same spell over and over again, always telling me to concentrate harder. Until I felt completely drained and Link had to get up and rush to me to keep me from falling over in exhaustion.

„Hm...“ Ganondorf rubbed his chin. „You haven‘t made quite as much progess as I would have liked you to, but I wouldn‘t say that today was entirely unproductive.“

I leaned on Link, trying to regain my balance. I had a headache and felt like I had just done two days worth of farmwork on LonLon Ranch within half a day.

But then Gareth began to cry and my motherly instincts kicked in. „He must be hungry.“ I had Link walk me over to the barrel where he had been sitting and was about to pull the collar of my shirt open to let Gareth drink when I remembered that Ganondorf was still there. „Do you mind?“

Ganondorf crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his eyes, but did turn around. „You do realize that I have children of my own, do you? Seeing a woman breastfeed is nothing new or interesting to me.“

I was quiet for a moment while feeding Gareth. Maybe it was the calming presence of my son, or the mention of Ganondorf being a parent as well, but I felt a lot less contempt for him at that moment. „I met some of your daughters during that other future.“

„I know. They helped in the siege on my castle.“

„Do you hold that against them?“

He shook his head. „How could I? I forced their hand. They did what they had to do, and they did so with all of the strength and determination I tried to impart on them. And that shows me that despite Demise‘s influence on our lives and my behaviour, Cassandra and I raised them well.“

I looked up. Ganondorf still had his back turned to me, but his posture showed that he still payed close attention to how I reacted. „You really did raise them well.“

„Thank you.“ He sounded sincere, almost gentle.

„Now what is that?“, called Cassandra‘s voice from the entrace to the castle. „I can‘t believe you two are actually getting along!“ Her voice was light and cheerful. „I half expected to arrive here and find the place in ruins!“

„Do you really think I have so little self-control, Cassandra?“, Ganondorf asked dryly.

„I have complete faith in your self-control“, Cassandra replied, the golden beads of her elaborate headdress jingling like tiny bells when she came bouncing down the stairs from to entrance up to Ganondorf and wrapped her arms around his mid-section. Next to him, she was comically small. „But you know, things happen, situations escalate, and with all of the hostility shown to you thus far...“

„You speak without thinking again, Cassandra“, Ganondorf told her sternly. „Princess… pardon. Queen Zelda has already shown us a tremendous amount of clemency by not immediately arresting and executing us.“

„Sorry“, Cassandra replied. „I‘m just happy that we can be here now. And I often get anxious that something could go wrong.“

Ganondorf bent down, picked her up into his arms and kissed her. „Nothing will happen. Don‘t worry.“

I smiled to myself. In a way, they reminded me of Link and me when he tried to calm my fears.

A man like that… a man who was proud of his daugthers for fighting for a good cause and clearly loved his wife couldn‘t be a truly bad person. That much I was sure of.

[schielohwolfe]

Porcelain Cicatrix

By: Schieloh Wolfe

1999; revised (2nd Draft-2019)

(Duration: 30 minutes)

  Once I stepped into the room, I sensed it was a looming chasm filled with dismal unrest. I could smell the dry, stale air uncirculated and musky with age. An eerie feeling of miasma filled my chest nearing to capacity; it choked me calmingly almost to the point of asphyxiation. As the faint began to seep in and my vision blurred, I could see a silhouetted figure in the corner. It was the only presence in the alcove other than me, quietly void of enthusiasm, but intensely interested. It stared bemused with black aphotic hyaline eyes as I fell to my knees with an uncontrolled yowl. It was an involuntarily surrender, an instant paralysis of mind and body as if disconnected from myself. I was left to watch from blank lifeless eyes, never blinking as my face slammed painstakingly against the splintered wooden floor. My sanity came under attack, and I was defenseless to stop it, trapped in a purlieu of which there was no entrance or exit. I saw blood fill the tiny crevasses between the wooden planks. A rusted screw attracted a small puddle at its base. I could hear myself breathe shallow faint breathes as the sensation of claustrophobia began to close in around me. I could not escape, nor scream, or panic. I just was… completely susceptible, along with this... figure.

   It was only an apercu at first. I could make out, it, no her, ever so slightly. She seemed a sylph, dressed in old Victorian fashion faded now, but once lavished in embroidery lost in the dust that rested thickly in the depressions of the ruffles. Spider webs were attached to all things personal, binding her with the surrounding elements. She appeared to have on a petticoat, slightly visible, consistent with the time, and she seemed uncomfortably affixed in her seat. Her posture was pristine, yet slightly leaning, attempting to fight ever so slightly gravity and time. She sat still and rigid, yet completely resolute with a perfect pose. She seemed to be overcompensated by the high bodice that accentuated her upper half, exquisitely so. Her hair was a dark brown curly menagerie of random chaos carefully covered by an indigo hat veiled but slightly flipped so the face could be seen without obstruction. Her feet were nearly covered but for a small bit of black, greying as the slipper's leather dried out with the years. Her face was a pale white with a hint of ruse and faint lipstick, which revealed a very living entity behind the fictitious appearance.

 Her very presence in the room made it feel avoirdupois. Her look was a splenetic trivial thing. She had this disheveled essence about her, rueful, knowingly antiquated, and out of touch. Her peering gaze created a vertiginous effect, even now motionless and staring... I felt dizzy in my own mind, unable to gain footing within my own reality. Still, she sat watching waiting. Time soon becomes a pleasant fiction, obscure, and irrelevant. My mind began to divagate into the unknown; into life, not my own. I watched people moving about seemingly to dance in their strides gracefully and appropriately eloquent for the time.

The place was a formal affair. Tapestries enriched with deep gold, light blues, and purples. Curtains rose thirty feet tied to reveal a panorama of stained glass, then beyond the windows… gardens, perfectly trimmed never-ending, overshadowed by a fountain that seemed to give life to everything around it. The people laughed relaxed but accented by a formal awareness. By the entrance, I watched a tall woman with dark curly brown hair stand with her back to me. I stood in this strange place, no longer in the room, strewn about on the floor bleeding. I approached clumsily at first, gaining balance, the feeling of walking for the first time kept things slow. As I got closer, she began to walk. I followed slowly but improved with every step. The woman had a dithyrambic bounce to her, a similar hue almost uplifting as she moved. It was breathtaking to watch as she took in the beauty around her.  She would slow to take in the picturesque sights. We made our way outside past the central garden, and the pace picked up. I continued to follow her in haste. We cornered a small fountain, and there stood a man of which I could not make out a description.

Immediately she was transfixed, and her enthusiasm could be felt everywhere around her. Her love was a pure, innocent thing. It was plain to see that she saw nothing or no one but this man, although almost liminal, you could feel she had given him everything. Something was wrong, however. He had a plaint look about him. Sorrowful, but stern he began to speak in hushed whispers, and singular words would sputter uncertainly into earshot. The falling water from the fountain drowned out context. One phrase could be made with certainty, though. "I'm sorry." He walked away and, as he did, never once looked back. She stood still, dumbfounded. He headed in the direction of a woman standing afar. She appeared obviously impatient and hurried. As he met up with her, she embraced him. The hurried woman glared back and with content and indifferent look… I simply watching the tragedy of it.

   What happened next was not predictable. I had seen broken hearts, known the tears, and felt the dismay, but this wasn't just a broken heart. I felt a shift in this place. This was more sinister, savage, this was raw, unchecked rage; it was her rapture.  She stood unflinching, completely motionless. Suddenly the fall of water could not be heard from the fountain, for it had stopped flowing. The flowers that reached for the sun, burst into flames and bled from their thorny stems. The greenery wilted and browned seemingly to die instantly, then went ablaze. The ash soon covered everything. The heat was so intense it made breathing nearly impossible.  The screams were harrowing. The people found their resting place where they once stood gracefully talking and dancing,  now ash and charred bone was all that remained. This place had become an abattoir trapped in her mind. The cracking and breaking of the stained glass caught my attention, and I turned to watch the home become engulfed in a brilliant inferno, blinding as it was beautiful. It had a morbidly enticing attraction. Somehow I felt complete empathy for the woman, then fear.

   She began to walk into the fire, which was all too accommodating to embellish her within its warm caress, but this was her pain, and the flames did not scorch her. Her clothes began to char slightly as the cool blue flames danced seductively on her skin, teasingly undressing her to know every part of her completely. She began to turn slowly to face me. My eyes never left hers. Her body started to solidify and became dull Pearl color. White fire chimed in and waltzed with the blue flames making her a brilliant glossy white-hued in a red light then cooling her slowly. Then, I have no engram of what happened next.

I stared at the wooden planks where I laid, but there was no longer any blood, just a powdery residue. I couldn't move but could hear a humming. The woman was no longer was sitting in the corner of the room. I was then picked up and ensconced in the same seat that she had sat. Like a simple tchotchke.  I faced her. She had a toothsome alacrity, yet she was gorgeous in every way. I realized this was the first time I had really seen her. It was as if she had experienced a palingenesis of sorts. She smiled. "This, my love will be a sojourn stay, but it will pass. They say time cures all things, but there is no surcease for this leitmotif. The pain and scars are always constant reminders to never error on the side of innocence, are they not? ”They never quite leave us."  She whispered to herself. "It will always be as such, won't it?"

She stepped back, and I could see her ultimately. She wore a short skirt ending well before the knees that did not suggest modesty. She wore what seemed to be a leather sleeveless top that revealed hints of tribal ink behind her arm and shoulders. The cloth of her top had been ruggedly to be blatantly suggestive; the bust was its own visually vast panoramic of awe and wonder. It would have consumed all attention if she hadn't been so captivating herself, wholely. She looked at me, then kissed my forehead, then turned to leave. I could hear the clicking of her knee-high boots as she went earshot.

I sat quietly, then noticed a small table mirror in front of me. I was wearing a garment in fashion around the Renaissance period. I think. The deep reds and browns were crisp and new. My shoes were shined, and the buckle polished. My hat tilted slightly to cover one side of my face concealing a crack that ran down my cheek below the eye and passed the neck. The other eye peered out, staring, and my head slightly cocked with curiosity.  The lights turned out, and darkness came in an instant. The only thought I could remember was… "How long?" I asked myself aloud... "until the madness comes?" At that moment, a spider began to creep down from the hat, touching my face and finding my shoulder. It had attached a single strand of silk that started affix me to this place. I shuttered then grinned. I sat for a moment in the darkness then let out a scream, which became an uncontrolled laugh…  all of which would fall on deaf ears, then complete silence.  

(Assignment 30 mins: Define some phases of heartbreak and reconciliation- Soul Gazing Segment #9)

(Author's Note: This piece is about broken hearts, innocence, cruel acts, the time it takes to heal, the imbalance of the human psyche emotionally, and the choices we make when we are ready to love again. Sometimes though, we can't get past the pain; and unfortunately, want others to join us. Other times we wouldn't want anyone to experience what we went through.)