#darla is mid ground

[unknownunseenunheard]

Angel and Darla when confronted with their past victims when ensouled: Oh god, what we did to you was awful

Spike when confronting a past victim when ensouled: Your mommy didn't love ya, I don't feel bad about killing her, and now I'm gonna beat you bloody and if you come near me again I'll rip your throat out <3

[phoenixmoonsong]

A Walk At Twilight

September 22, 2020, 5:46 pm

Damien raised his dark gaze to the sight before him. Darla dressed in a golden sundress with tiny buttons all down the back as she swayed slowly in place beside the dancing flicker of the fire as the sun began to quickly lower behind the tops of the trees around them. He tossed the whiskey bottle aside, hearing the shattering of glass of it hit the rocks to the right of the spot they'd chosen for the bonfire that night. It was a good spot. Far enough away from town that nobody worth their salt would wonder their way that deep into the forest. He ran a damn near sloppy hand through the mess of disheveled hair he'd bleached fresh just this afternoon. Why hadn't he married her yet? He just hadn't been ready for that yet. Darla was amazing. She was sweet, soft in all the right places, and warm as apple pie fresh from the oven. You didn't want for a damn thing when Darla was around. He raised from his seat on the rock to the right of the group, stumbling a step from the fourth of straight whiskey he'd downed in a couple hours. How was he supposed to do this again? Did he just approach the bundle of friends she'd brought for the fire and scoop her up like the bride on her wedding day? Nah, that couldn't be right. He kept his balance better by slowing his pace to a damn near crawl as he got to the fire, taking Darla's small hand in his bigger one as he simply led her away for some time to themselves. "Come for a walk with me, doll face?" He'd never seen a woman's face light up with joy every time he touched her before. Not the obvious places, those he could give her too, but the simplicity of putting his hand in hers could make her smile like the sun shining against fresh white snow. The world got a little quieter as they wandered into the twilit dark of the heavy woods behind the others. "You know, I love you, right, Darla?" He began slowly as the white noise around them became squirrels chittering, birds singing softly in the above them, and the scurry of rats and other creatures wandering around the woods. She leaned her face down to plant a kiss against the back of his hand, his voice still echoing against the sudden quiet of the dense woods as he pushed aside a half fallen branch with his free hand. "I know I'm not...the most articulate dude around, and as much as you deny it, you could do so much better than a fucking mechanic at an auto repair shop just south of Kentucky." He didn't need to meet her eyes to see the gentle chiding that was about to come from the woman to his left. She hated when he talked down to himself. He knew what the hell he was. He was a self taught mechanic with too many tattoos and a heavy propensity toward drinking too much whiskey and getting lost in the woods at 12:35 on a Wednesday night. She was a fucking school teacher who taught high schooler’s whose ass he wanted to kick more often than not. He turned as a soft gasp came from Darla's lips before he could even pull the ring out of the pocket of his dirty Levi's. "Come on, Darla. At least /act/ surprised...even though we both knew I was gonna do it." His words slurred just slightly at the word surprised. His usual southern drawl coming too long and drawn out to make a lot of sense. "Damien, no...it's…" He finally turned his dark brown eyes, not quite black eyes, to the space in front of them. "What the fuck…" He immediately shoved the woman he planned to slip that two thousand dollar ring on after this behind him, but the liquor in his system brought his strength out in waves like a damn tide every couple of seconds. It's why he'd been sitting away from Darla's friends. He didn't wanna shake the hand of a fellow school teacher buddy of hers and crush their bones instead. His eyes left the monstrosity of a rabid dog with blood oozing down it's misshapen snout to flick his gaze toward a quiet groan that sounded a half dozen feet behind him and to his left as he heard a crunch of bone breaking. He pulled a revolver from his pocket in a split second reaction as the gnarled and mange ridden thing sprang for Darla's prone position on a set of rocks the size of small boulders she'd been tossed against in his drunken effort to save her from the dog in front of them. He didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, bringing a calamity of concerned voices barreling toward them, and him no time to act to do a damn thing except tuck himself down to the ground beside her as her precious crimson blood spilled needlessly down the stone grey of the rocks. He shook his head as the thought occurred to him. He would /not/ could /not/ do that to Darla. He would not make her what he'd been cursed with his whole life. The beast was a nasty creature that help no remorse or moral compass. You got in it's way, and your ass was a fucking blood stain on concrete. He'd never been able to recognize a single human face in his wolf form….until Darla. The beast recognized her enough to give her safety in it's presence. "Fucking hurry! She hit her head. There was a rapid fucking dog! It tried to jump her. I don't know what happened." He attempted all at the same time as his eyes began to cloud over with that dirty grey film he always saw before he shifted. Fuck, no...no...not now. He could not shift in front of a group of school teachers this deep in the woods. They'd never make it out alive, and Damien had more than enough blood on his hands in his short 34 years at life. He would not slaughter a group of /school/ teachers. He shook his head, too hard too fast as the sharp agony of bloody claws sliding from his fingers hit suddenly. "No no no no no." His eyes panickedly flew between Darla and the crowd about to gather in the next 2 minutes that were running his way at a full sprint. He leaned down, laid his phone and the box with the ring in it from his jeans pocket on the leg of Darla's boot before taking off at a damn near leap into woods away from Darla and the group. For once the beast didn't want blood, it wanted out of there. He fought with the damn thing to at least make sure she was alright. At least give him that, you goddamn monster. The pain shot through him in waves, blood oozing and running along the leaf strewn ground in a trail as he shifted mid-run among the thick of the trees. He collapsed right before reaching his dull black jeep Cherokee to escape in, the beast's hold too strong from him to go on. The pain too excruciating to allow him to continue to get the fuck away from the obvious arrest that was pending if he did /not/ get /out/ of here...fucking now...as he collapsed to the ground with a deep shudder of pain so hard he couldn't breathe around it, his last thought was of Darla...then nothing.

To Be Continued...

[quadraphonictypewriter]

Rushing Whispers Part 3/?

Read from the beginning or Part 2

May 21 & 22, 1970 ((approx. 5350 words))

Lily was peculiar in the morning. She insisted on cooking breakfast for me and my sister, and wanted to know our schedules for the day so she could align the meals for us. A chorus of “I don’t know” came from us when asked about our plans for the day. The weather seemed okay, but it could turn at any moment in Scotland, so there was no guarantee for sun. 

“You could go to the coast and watch the ocean,” Lily suggested, but Liliane decided on a strong refusal of that offer. 

“I think I’m going to just walk around and look at the architecture. I can’t get enough of it,” I told them. “You can do whatever you want, Lil.” 

“Sure, no problem. Do you want to have lunch somewhere at two?” 

Before I could answer, there was a loud knock on the door. 

“Who could that be?” Lily asked rhetorically. She never answered the door between the milkman and the postman, the latter of whom we were not expecting for another hour.

My sister was the first to get up and go to the door. “We have to see who it is, auntie.” 

“So, who is it?” I asked. 

A snicker was all the answer I needed to go to the door and see for myself. Standing on the small raised porch was Cameron, a small gift box in hand. “Might I speak to Emily, please?” he asked softly. 

I emerged from behind the living room partition and smiled. “Hi, Cameron. What brings you here?” Then, with a foot nudge to my sister, “Thanks for getting the door.” 

She threw me a sidelong glance and left, but I didn’t trust the look on her face so I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. 

“I was hoping you’d be here,” Cameron said before I could say anything else. “I got this for you. From the north.” 

My smile grew wider as I accepted the gift. “Thank you, Cameron.” I gently opened the box and saw that inside was a small wooden carving of a highland cow. “This is very kind, thank you.” 

Cameron looked bashful as he glanced to the ground and then back to the carving in my hands. “I saw it in an apprentice shop and thought you’d like it. A nice little memory of Scotland.” 

“I have many memories of Scotland, now.” 

His smile widened and the bashful look dissipated. “Would you like to come to breakfast with me?” 

“Only if we can go to Donovan’s,” I replied. “I’ve heard they have delicious black pudding.” 

“They do,” he told me with excitement. 

“That’s settled, then. Let me go get my coat.” 

I turned around and headed inside to grab my shoes and a light windbreaker. “Lily, I’m going to breakfast with Cameron, I’ll see you guys later!” I closed the door behind me without waiting for a response and turned to see Cameron holding his arm out to me.

“Shall we?”

“Do you usually go round to women’s houses this early in the morning?” I asked him jokingly once we had ordered our breakfast. 

“No, only the ones I like.” Cameron winked at me and I felt myself redden. “The tour is quite nearly finished and I remembered you were leaving Scotland soon, so I wanted to come by and say hello.” 

“Well, hello,” I answered with a cheeky smile. 

Cameron laughed and asked when I would be leaving. 

“Our flight is mid morning on the twenty-seventh,” I informed him. Honestly, since meeting and getting to know Cameron, I didn’t want to leave Scotland at all. 

“A week from now.” 

“Yes.” 

The food arrived and we dug in, happily eating in silence for a few minutes. 

“Might we see each other again? Before you leave?” he asked, seemingly unsure of himself. 

I smiled reassuringly at him. “With your penchant for showing up at my doorstep, I’m sure we will.” 

He chuckled softly. “I know it was a bit unexpected, but.. We have a show tonight at Malmaison Hotel and I wanted to see if you would like to come. Free of charge, of course.” 

“That would be wonderful, I’d love to.” I could feel my cheeks burning for the second time this morning but tried not to let it bother me. 

“Excellent, I’m glad. Do you know where the hotel is?” 

“No, but I’m sure I could ask Lily..” I trailed off, not even sure if she would know of the Malmaison Hotel. 

“No bother. I’ll come by to pick you up before soundcheck.” 

“Sounds great,” I beamed.

Late Afternoon

All Cameron had told me of the band was that they played progressive rock, which suited me fine. I dressed up in clothes nicer than my usual jeans and respectable shirt; thankfully I had done some shopping while in Scotland and slipped on, a mini skirt and a semi-loose buttoned shirt with flaring sleeves. I glanced at myself in the mirror and decided that bare legs were a little too much. 

I went to my sister’s room and knocked on the door. 

“Hey, have you got any pantyhose?” 

She gave my outfit one look and snorted. “What’s in town tonight? The circus?”

“I’m a lady at a prog rock concert, I can’t show up in old denim.” 

“You usually do,” she persisted. “But I’ll see if I’ve got a pair.” 

I waited at the threshold until she tossed a bundle at me. 

“Tan would go best with that outfit,” Liliane suggested. 

I thanked her and went back to my room, slipping on the pantyhose and heading downstairs to have a cup of tea. 

By the time four o’clock rolled around, I was waiting anxiously for Cameron to show up. The curtains were open so I could see his car park and know when to step outside, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any more quips coming from my sister and Lily. 

I sipped my tea while sitting on the sofa, my family chatting to each other. I ignored the comments I could hear coming from them and tried to keep calm. I was beginning to get nervous despite myself. 

Before I could worry too much, a dark blue truck pulled up. I didn’t realize it was Cameron until he stepped out of the car and began to walk towards the door. 

I stood and almost spilled my tea. I went to the front window, motioning to Cameron that I would be out in a moment. Suddenly very self conscious, I pulled the only footwear I had with me, some All-Stars, and frowned at the way they looked with the rest of my outfit. ‘Nothing to do about it now,’ I told myself. 

I brought my cup into the kitchen and set it down on the counter. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but keep the back door unlocked and I’ll just pop in.” 

Lily scoffed and pointed to a small object on the table. “You think I’ll leave the door unlocked? The spare key. I’ll keep the front light on for you.” 

I grabbed the key and thanked her as she and Liliane wished me a good time. I stepped outside and saw Cameron’s eyes widen when he saw my outfit. 

“Is it too much?” I worried instantly. 

He shook his head. “Not at all. I like it,” he added with a smile. 

I smiled back, and we walked towards the truck. “What happened to your car?” 

“The van?” He opened the passenger door for me. “The crew are still unloading the equipment from it. This is Clyde’s truck.” 

“Clyde?” I asked when he walked around to the other side and sat in the driver's seat. 

“He’s the drummer. He was at the pub when we first met, but you were never introduced,” Cameron explained. 

“I guess there’s a first for everything.” 

Cameron turned the key in the ignition and chuckled. “Yes, there is.”

We got to the venue not long after, chatting all the way to the hotel. Cameron had told me the names of his band mates, and told me that the band was the brainchild of himself and Willie. 

We had seen the crew setting up the equipment on the short stage, surveyed over by some of the hotel staff. I suppose Cameron could feel my nerves because before opening the door to the backstage area, he took my hand in his and squeezed, giving me a reassuring smile. 

“Thanks,” I said quietly as he opened the door and let me walk through first. 

The change in atmosphere was not quite describable, but very palatable. One of the men huddled in the mass came up to us, cigarette in hand. 

"So, Cameron, this is the lass you've borrowed my truck to pick up?" 

"Clyde, this is Emily. Emily, Clyde." 

"Hello," I said with a polite smile. 

"Nice to meet you," Clyde said, before turning his attention to Cameron. "They need you on stage, something about your keyboards. I can't quite remember now, but I think they said a key fell off." 

"Shit, alright. I won't be long, Emily. Make yourself comfortable." Cameron shot me a quick smile and left towards the stage. 

"You look familiar," Clyde mentioned as he offered me a drink. I declined, but looked at all the bottles of alcohol and wondered, jokingly, where their personal distillery was located. 

"We met in Garlogie, a couple weeks ago. At the pub," I explained. 

"Ah yes, the raggedy girl. Well, nice to meet you officially." 

We were standing in front of the group of about a dozen people, who it seemed all turned to look at me at the same time. 

"Everyone, this is Emily. Cameron's girl." 

'Cameron's girl?' I wondered what exactly he'd been telling them about me, but pushed the thought aside when a long haired woman hopped off the table she'd been sitting on and extended her hand to me. 

I shook it and she introduced herself as Clyde's wife, Sylvia. This left Clyde to rejoin the group and light up another cigarette. 

Sylvia brought me to the refreshment table and motioned to the homemade sandwiches. "I don't know if you've eaten yet, but these were made this morning by me and Darla," she explained. "You're welcome to eat and drink whatever you like." 

"Thank you." 

"How many of us have you met?" she asked happily. 

"Not many," I admitted. "Cameron, obviously. You, Clyde, and Willie." 

"Cameron is a sweetheart," she whispered to me, even though we were far from everyone else. "He does like you. And he's coming this way," she added, bouncing off back to the lounge chairs. 

I looked to my left and saw that she was right. Cameron, wringing his hands, was walking towards me. 

"I see you've met Sylvia."

"Yes, she's quite nice," I noted. 

"It's almost time for soundcheck. Have you ever been this exposed to the makings of a concert?" 

His cheeky smile made me smile back. "No, actually. The last concert I went to was last year, even. I missed the opener and barely made it in time for the first song." 

"Shame," he noted. "At least tonight, this is another memory I can give you of Scotland." 

The look on his face was hard to decipher, which made me think that maybe Sylvia was right. Maybe Cameron did feel about me how I felt about him.  

"Did you get introduced to everyone?" 

"No, just Sylvia and Clyde." 

"Well, beside him is Willie, who you know, of course. He plays guitar. Our bassist Leroy is to his left. Then that's Dale, the-" 

"Alright everyone, soundcheck is now," Willie stated with authority, interrupting us. 

"Upright arse," Cameron said under his breath. Then, to me, "Come, let's go." 

I'd never seen a soundcheck before, let alone one where I was practically a VIP. I stood by the side of the stage and watched as they began to play. Cameron's keyboards started off quietly and then grew to be the driving force of the song. Only when Dale started to sing about three minutes into the song did I realize this wasn't an instrumental. 

They took less than fifteen seconds between each of the four songs they played. By the time they'd finished, nearly everyone on the stage was soaked with sweat. 

"Did you like it?" Cameron asked as he walked up to me, leading me to the backstage area once more. 

"It was great! I didn't know a keyboard could be played like that," I admitted. I snuck a glance at his collar, spotted with sweat. I felt a small shiver go through me but luckily, Cameron didn't notice. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Just wait until there's four hundred people here, we really rip it up," he added. 

Cameron excused himself for a moment and stepped behind the free-standing room divider. I wondered what he was doing until he stepped out in a different shirt, coming up beside me as I poured myself a tea. 

"Would you like one?" I asked.

"Yes, please." 

I poured another cup and set it down in front of him. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he added two drops of milk and took a sip. He was still clammy but the change of clothes had reduced my desire to rip off his shirt, though not satiated it entirely. 

"Come, let's sit." 

I followed Cameron past the row.of chairs and tables into another room. I hadn't noticed the door earlier but it was obvious now, painted a different colour and had the words 'storage' written on it. 

The 'storage' room was nothing like I expected. There were boxes, yes, but mostly just an empty room with a loveseat and a coffee table. 

"A little unorthodox for a storage closet, isn't it?" I joked. 

Cameron chuckled and smiled at me. "I asked to move this in here, I figured you might not want to have a dozen pairs of eyes looking at you all evening." 

"That's very thoughtful," I said, setting my tea cup down on the table. 

"Was I wrong?" he asked worriedly. 

"No, no. I just wasn't expecting you to be so.. accommodating." 

Cameron smiled once more. "Emily," he said, and when I looked at him, I could see the fire behind his eyes. He put a hand on my cheek and I hoped he could see behind my eyes as well. 

He kissed me then, softly but eagerly. He pulled back too soon and I put my hands on his chest and leaned forward. I kissed him harder, and before I knew what was happening, we were entangled. 

I pulled back after a moment and felt my cheeks a deep red. 

"Cameron, I.." 

"I'm sorry, Emily. I didn't mean to bring you here and force you into anything, I just-" 

'He's nervous.' 

"Cameron," I said with a smile. "I do like you." 

Though he tried to hide it, his face lit up. Cameron sat down and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Relieved?” I asked with a laugh. 

He looked at me with relief clear on his face. “Yes, actually.” 

I sat down beside him and put my hand on his. “Did you think I’d reject you?”

He huffed and nodded slightly. “I wasn’t sure.. I haven’t always had the best of luck,” he admitted. 

“Your honesty is endearing,” I whispered. “Can I kiss you again?”

“God, Emily,” Cameron said. “You don’t have to ask.” 

I smiled shyly and scooted closer to him. We were facing each other and I held his hand in mine. Without thinking about it too much, I leaned forward and closed my eyes as I reached his lips with mine. The intimacy sent shocks through my body, as if I had been waiting all my life to be kissed by him. That wasn’t too far from the truth, though I had only been waiting about a week for him to do so. 

Within minutes, we were entangled once again. My hands on the back of his neck, his hands on my waist. I prodded at his lower lip with the tip of my tongue and he responded by opening his mouth. I moaned quietly and I felt him chuckle against me. I’m sure he was fighting his desires as I was mine; all I wanted to do was pull him on top of me and take him. 

I pulled away to brush the hair out of my face and push the thought from my mind. Cameron gazed at me as I did so and smiled. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

He looked down bashfully and I saw he was looking at my breasts. 

“What, they’re peeking at you?” I giggled. 

Cameron laughed. “I suppose they are,” he admitted. 

I pondered for a moment but decided against taking my shirt off, in case anyone walked in and saw me straddling him in my bra. Instead, I placed his hand on my waist under my shirt and he began to thumb at the edge of my bra. My whole body was on fire. 

I kissed him again, harder, and he responded with just as much voracity. His hands moved to the small of my back and I pushed myself against him. ‘They’re more than peeking at him, now,’ I said to myself. 

Time seemed to stand still until we heard a knock at the door. 

“It’s filling up, Cameron,” someone whose voice I didn’t fully recognize said through the door. 

“Thanks, Geoff,” Cameron responded. 

“I guess you want me to get off?” I said quietly. 

“I don’t want that, no. But if I’m to play a show tonight, you’ll have to,” he answered cheekily. 

I laughed and smiled shyly. I slid off of him and sat against the arm of the couch. I could see what I had felt just moments earlier, pressing against me. I suddenly became shy beyond words, and got quiet while Cameron fastened the two buttons at the top of his shirt. 

“Are you alright, Emily?” 

I hadn’t noticed he was looking at me, so his words surprised me. I looked up at him and smiled as best I could. “Yes, I was just thinking.” 

“Did something I do upset you?” he asked worriedly. Cameron sat back down beside me and looked at me with concern. 

“No, not at all, Cameron.” I tried to be as reassuring as possible. “I just..” 

“You can tell me.” 

“I thought it would never end.” I looked at him and saw the concern was still there. “In a good way,” I added. 

He smiled and took my hand in his, squeezing. “Me too, Emily.” 

We calmed ourselves down for a few minutes, but when the second knock on the door came we had no choice but to venture out. Sylvia winked at me and I blushed, which made her laugh loudly. 

“Everyone else is behind the stage. You might want to join them, Cameron,” she told us. 

Cameron snuck me a quick kiss on the cheek before darting off to join the rest of his band, leaving me with Sylvia. 

“So?” she inquired when he was out of the room. “What happened?” 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I answered. 

“Oh, so you kissed! I knew it!” she squealed. 

“What, were there bets?” I asked jokingly. “When does the show start?” 

“Almost,” she quipped. “And, it’ll start momentarily. We should go to the side now, actually.” 

I followed her past the throngs of people to the best spot in the house. 

“Do you want to see his ass or his face?” she asked me with a cheeky grin. 

“Uh, I, um..” 

“Kidding! Let’s go.” 

We walked the last few steps to the designated viewing area for crew and entourage. ‘Face it is,’ I thought as I saw the set up. We were on the side with the guitar and bass, set to view the keyboardist from across the stage.

“I stand here, to see my husband better,” Sylvia told me as she settled into her viewing spot. 

“You can see the whole crowd from here,” I noted in amazement. 

“Never been side-stage before?” 

“No,” I answered. 

“It’ll be fun! I suggest you stand here,” she said, pointing to a spot about four feet from her. “You’ll be able to see better.” 

“Thanks.” 

Just as we finished speaking, the lights dimmed and the crowd roared. A solitary man came onto the stage and went to the microphone. 

“Let’s welcome to the stage... Amoeba!”

The crowd’s roar grew and the rush of adrenaline I felt must have been nothing compared to Cameron’s as they came onto the stage. Each of the members raised a hand in their wave to the crowd. I caught Cameron’s eye and he winked at me as he began to play.

The concert was amazing, I’d never seen a crowd going wild like that. There seemed to be something in the air that made them go wild, hollering and dancing to the music. I found myself dancing as well. The songs were well written and had beautiful music, hard to explain without having heard them before. 

The final note struck out and Dale’s “thank you! Good night!” echoed in the hall. Sylvia pulled me along with her to the backstage room, which the band entered at the same time. 

The first thing I noticed was Cameron’s shirt, it was drenched with sweat and his hair was wet. He beamed when he saw me, and a smile lit up my face. 

“That was incredible!” I exclaimed before he had the chance to say anything. He walked up to me and put a hand on my hip. The touch was electrifying. 

“Glad you enjoyed it!” Cameron was obviously happy to see my positive reaction to the band, and that made me happier than I thought it would. He went to change his shirt again behind the room divider and I was glad, because I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off him if I saw him sweaty and shirtless. 

Once he emerged, he caught the attention of Clyde and they both nodded at each other. Cameron came up to me and asked if I had everything I came with. 

“Yes. Why?” 

“We’re going to go somewhere,” he told me. 

When we got to Clyde’s truck, I realized the significance of what had happened inside. Cameron had asked to borrow the truck again. But where were we going? 

I refrained from asking and instead decided to compliment him once we got into the truck. “I didn’t think you could play keyboards like that.”

“Me in particular, or just any old anyone?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“Well, I have heard some great keyboards jams but nothing quite like yours.” 

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. 

“So, now that I’ve buttered you up,” I began, “where are we going?”

“I’ve something to show you. It’s an old building in Cairnie, maybe eight miles from here.” 

The drive was short, maybe twenty minutes from Malmaison Hotel to the building Cameron spoke of. 

“Is this a house?” I asked him incredulously as we got out of the truck. It looked like a miniature castle, built with stone and a large wooden door. 

“Yes.” 

“Whose is it?” I turned to look at him and he smiled.

“Mine.” 

“Yours?” I repeated. I was surprised. “You live here?” 

“Well,” he began as he unlocked the door. He pushed it open and beckoned me inside. “It’s my mother’s. But she’s given it to me unofficially. I haven’t spent much time here recently, what with the tour, but this is my home when we’re in the area.” 

The inside was so grand I had trouble putting words to it. Cameron gave me the tour and excused himself to take a shower. I wandered the house while he showered, noting the layout of the house. The main floor had a sitting room, kitchen, and a bathroom, along with a bedroom and what seemed to be a music room. 

I slowly walked up the stairs and saw two more bedrooms, each with an en suite bathroom. It was quite something to take in, especially when my home was a small one bedroom apartment. 

I went into the bedroom where Cameron was showering, resisting the urge to peek into the bathroom. I took my shoes off by the door and sat on the bed with my back against the headboard and my legs stretched out. I contemplated taking off my pantyhose, then I stood up and did so. I had just tossed them next to my shoes and sat back on the bed when Cameron emerged from the bathroom in a towel at his waist. 

“Hi,” he said, surprised by my presence. 

“Hello,” I giggled. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, nodding to the pantyhose on the floor. Suddenly I felt very bare. 

“Very,” I answered. 

“I’ll just..” he began, looking around the room. “Ah, my jeans. I’ll just go put them on.” 

Cameron grabbed what, at a quick glance, looked like boxers and a pair of jeans. He stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. 

I wiggled my toes and decided that shaving my legs yesterday was a stroke of good luck. 

“I didn’t bring you here to seduce you, or anything,” Cameron said. He was standing at the door of the bathroom and looking at me intently. “I suppose simply put, I wanted to spend time with you but not at the crummy hotel Geoff booked for the band.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Cameron. And, well, you’ve already seduced me.” I added in a quiet voice that was almost a whisper. 

His face changed and he smiled. “I’m happy. I didn’t think I could be, but I am.” Cameron came to sit beside me on the bed and I turned to meet his gaze. 

“Why didn’t you think you could be happy?” 

He shook his head as he walked towards me. “A story for another day,” he reassured me. “But I am happy.” 

“Me too.” 

Cameron took the opportunity to kiss me, hard. I answered him and he lowered himself onto the bed beside me.. My hands went to his bare chest and he put his hands on my waist, his touch feeling electric. I knew that this time, with no one around to interrupt, I wouldn’t be stopped by a voice in my head. 

I tried to make my intent clear with the ferocity of my kissing, but to make sure he got it I pulled away for a moment. He shifted to have his back against the headboard as I removed my bra and tossed it to the floor without removing my shirt. 

“Emily, you don’t have to-” 

“I want to,” I answered, moving to straddle him and grinding my hips into his. 

I heard him gasp a little as I kissed his neck and he suddenly rolled me onto my back and pinned me down. 

“Oh, you’re playing like that?” I asked rhetorically. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Cameron laughed and put his hands on my thighs. “You’re burning,” he noted. 

“You should feel the rest of me,” I teased. “I’m on fire.” 

He smiled at that and kissed me once more. I didn’t feel as though I was giving myself up to him, rather that we were both doing that for each other. I could tell he was as wanting as I was. 

Soon, my skirt was on the floor and my shirt unbuttoned. He stared at my chest for a moment too long and I asked him if everything was okay. 

“Everything is perfect. You’re perfect.” I blushed deeply and he put his hand on my cheek. “Don’t be shy, Emily.”

“Okay.”

Morning

Light was just coming in through the curtains when I woke. We had made love for hours, or so it seemed; there was no clock in the bedroom. Cameron woke when I shifted to my side and he spoke groggily. 

“Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” I answered. I gave him a kiss and he pulled me closer to him. 

When he let me go, I was nearly breathless. His sweet smile made me melt and all I wanted was for him to be with me, for much longer than the time we had. I hadn’t realized I was frowning until he spoke. 

“Everything alright?” 

“I should have been back at Lily’s after the show,..” I confessed. “She’ll be up soon, and so will my sister.” 

“I’d forgotten about them.” 

“Me too, actually,” I said with a light chuckle. “Time moves too fast sometimes.” 

“It does.” 

We stayed in silence for a few minutes. I could have stayed with Cameron all day, but I knew that just being out until morning was scandalous, let alone being out all of the next day as well. 

“You can shower when you’d like. I’ll make you some tea and bring you back to your aunt’s,” Cameron told me, as if reading my mind. 

“Thanks,” I said, and slipped out of bed. I could feel him looking at me as I walked to the bathroom, but I didn’t mind. 

The hot water felt so good, I barely wanted to get out and dry myself. Once I did, the thought of clean underwear crossed my mind and I heard Cameron call out from the bedroom. 

“You haven’t got any clean pants, but these jeans were my sister’s. You can wear them if you’d like.” 

I stepped out of the bathroom and thanked him, taking the jeans from his outstretched hand. I slipped into them and my shirt; Cameron was already dressed. I put my shoes on and gathered my underwear, pantyhose, and skirt, slipping them into my purse. 

“The tour is finished, now, so I’ll be staying here for a few weeks,” he let me know as we made our way to the truck. “I put the house phone number in the jeans pocket, so you can call me whenever.” 

“Thank you, Cameron. What will you do now that the tour is over?”

“We have about a month off before we head into the studio. I suppose I’ll mostly be writing music, and sleeping,” he said with a laugh. 

We were at Polmuir Road before long; Cameron parked in front of the house and parked the car. We both began to speak at the same time, but he urged me to speak first. 

“I had a really great time at the concert, Cameron. And with you.” 

“As did I.” He smiled and gave me a quick kiss. “Call me before you leave, okay?” 

“I will.” 

“I’ll bring you to the door.” 

We stepped out of the truck and Cameron took my hand in his as he walked me up the pathway to the front door. 

“Well, I’ll see you soon, Cameron.” I smiled at him and he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. 

“I look forward to it.” 

I smiled at Cameron once more as he let go of my hand; we didn’t need to say anything else. I reluctantly closed the door behind me as he walked back to the truck. 

The house was quiet for only a moment, before my sister bounded down the stairs.

“Where have you been? Lily was beyond herself!” My sister whispered angrily.

“Calm down, I’ll tell her I’m alright.” I was already fed up with my sister and it had only been ninety seconds. 

“Whose jeans are those?” she asked. 

“Well, they’re-” 

“What happened to your skirt?” she interrupted me. “And my pantyhose? Don’t tell me you ripped them!”

“Would you shut up for a second? Oh, hi Lily.” 

Our great-aunt had walked in from the kitchen. “Emily, you’re back? I thought you said it was-” 

“I’m fine, I’m here now. I was with Cameron,” I explained. 

“All night?” Lily was shocked.

My sister was beyond shock. “Do not tell me you were in a hotel room with him!”

“He’s got a house in Cairnie, it’s fine,” I added. 

“Girls nowadays,” Lily scoffed, heading back to the kitchen. “Breakfast will be ready in 30 minutes, girls.”

--

Part 4

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble Days - Drabble 1

Title: The Inside of a Tiffany Lamp Rating:  PG-13 Pairings: Gabriel/Nancy, Gabriel/Johnny Trigger Warnings: For the first part only -- Child abuse, homophobia, and homophobic slurs.

1979

Gabriel James sat at the kitchen table, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. His grandma had given him a set of fancy colored pencils for Christmas and he’d been putting them to use ever since. There had been some concern that he was too little for such a sharp gift, but it was like his hands were made for colored pencils. He knew how to hold them, how to move his hand so the lead wouldn’t snap in his hand. Some of it he had remembered from kindergarten, but most of it came naturally. He let his hand guide the way. They tended to know what his mind wanted to do.

He’d been working on this drawing for a couple of days. There was this cool lamp that was sitting in the stock room of the store, and Gabe knew it would make for an awesome drawing. So he spent two whole days at work with his dad so he could sit in the back and draw. He’d spent hours upon hours drawing the lamp so it looked perfect. Then he’d spent a whole day coloring his drawing in. It looked so cool. Even though the base of the lamp had looked better in his head than on paper, it still looked pretty good. It was loads better than anything Missy Hamilton drew (even though their teacher said she was so much better at coloring inside the lines than he was).

Once the drawing was done, he’d blown on it to get any extra color off, and gently smoothed it down on the backside. It needed to be absolutely perfect. He waited until after dinner to give his dad the drawing. “I made this for you.” He said, proudly presenting him with his days of hard work. Gabriel couldn’t help but to fidget nervously as he waited to see what his dad’s reaction was going to be.

Francis looked at the piece of paper. “What is this shit?” His lip curled up into an ugly sneer. He blinked a couple of times as he took in Gabe’s careful line work and coloring. “Why the fuck do I need this?” He held it a little further back before crumpling it into a ball. “It looks like a waste of time if you ask me. Can’t even tell what it is.”

He could feel his bottom lip shaking. All those hours and hours of work and for what? For his dad to just ball it up like it was trash? He couldn’t cry though. If he cried, his dad would just hit him. He really had thought that his dad was going to like it. He spent enough time at the store; he thought he’d like a picture of the coolest looking thing in there.

“Oh, Francis, look.” Maria unfurled the ball of paper, smoothing it out so Francis could get a better look at it. Gabe felt himself flinching as her fingers smoothed over the front of the drawing, smearing colors in places they weren’t supposed to go. “It’s the Tiffany lamp that we bought at that estate sale. Look! There’s the glass stones that make up the flowers, and there’s the base.” She smiled warmly at Gabe. “It looks just like the lamp, Gabriel.”

His father huffed and took the drawing again, blinking at it a few times. “Why do I need a picture of a lamp? It’s a lamp.” He crumpled the drawing up again and tossed it in the direction of the kitchen. “You shouldn’t spend so much time drawing anyway. Only sissies draw.”

And that was too much for Gabe to handle. He took off running to his room, tears streaming down his face as he ran. As soon as he was in the room he shared with his little sister, he crawled into the open closet. All he wanted to do was hide. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and looped his arms around them, burying his face into his knees and cried.

“My G?” A little voice asked, and his two year old sister crawled into the closet with him. Crap. He was pretty sure his mom had already put her down for the night. He must have been too loud. “You okay, my G?” And Georgiana poked and poked at his head until he looked up at her. “Why crying, my G?”

Gabe scrubbed at his face. Boys weren’t supposed to cry. He knew that much. His dad told him that all the time, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. He let his legs down, and Georgiana immediately scrambled onto his lap, her little head leaning against him. “Dad didn’t like my drawing. I worked so hard on it, and he crumpled it up like it was trash.” He knew his sister probably had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“You draw pretty.” Georgiana decided. “Better than books.” She pressed a hand against his cheek before yawning. “Draw me princesses.”

A watery smile slid onto his face. “I’ll draw you as a princess.” He decided. “You’d make the prettiest princess.”

Georgiana yawned again. “Us as princesses. I want us as princesses.” She decided firmly.

This time Gabe yawned. “Okay, but we can’t show Dad, okay?”

“Okay.” His little sister said as she drifted off to sleep. “Okay."

1990

Gabe sat on top of one of the lunch tables in the middle of the quad. He had an hour to kill before baseball practice, which meant he had plenty of time to draw. Usually he liked to sketch the other kids who had a free seventh period. And when there was no one else out there, he would draw the leftover trash from lunch and the birds picking at the leftovers. Today there was a group of girls sitting at the tables, laughing and pretending to do their homework. Of course, he knew who the girls were, but it wasn’t as though they were friends. Maureen, Nancy, Darla, and Louise: Roswell High School’s bitch squad.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was sketching out the four girls. It started out as just one of his basic sketches, but when the sun hit Nancy just right, he switched his focus to her. He flipped to a new page of his sketchbook and focused on Nancy. A part of him wished he had his colored pencils with him or even watercolor (even though he hated working with watercolors). He had always thought Nancy was beautiful, in an art sort of way, but the way the light hit her… For a moment he wondered if he thought she was beautiful in more than just an art sort of way. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in real life, and the lighting just made her look even more so.

He spent the entirety of the seventh period drawing Nancy. He focused on the way the sun made her skin look dewy, and the way her hair looked like spun gold before working on her eyes. In real life they always looked a little cold, but he added a little bit more warmth. He’d caught her mid-laugh and she just looked so happy.

“Is that me?”

He looked up in horror to find Nancy Conrad standing in front of him looking at his drawing. There was a look on her face he’d never seen before, and it made him blush. God, he couldn’t believe that he let himself get so caught up in his drawing that he didn’t even realize she’d walked over to him. “Uhm, yeah.” He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Before he could talk himself out of it, he urgently tore the page out of his sketchbook and handed it to her. “I made this for you. Figured you’d want a reminder of how hot you look today.”

Nancy took the page from him, and studied for a long while before looking back at him, a smile on her face. “It’s missing something though.” And there was something in her voice that Gabe thought was odd, but he didn’t realize what it was until it was too late. “Your number isn’t on it.”

Oh, fuck. Was she flirting with him? Fuck, she was. She definitely was. Against his better judgement, he took the sketch back from her and scrawled his number in the corner like it was his signature. “There. All fixed.”

The second he handed it back to her, Nancy took off running back to her girls and he could hear the other girls squealing. Girls… They were too much.

“Gabe…” His best friend Derrick was suddenly standing next to him. “Why is the Bitch Squad looking at you and giggling?” When Gabe didn’t respond, Derrick punched him in the arm. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Gabe lied as he packed up his bag. “Absolutely nothing.”

2018

So, what difference does it make? So, what difference does it make? It makes none. But now you have gone and you must be looking very old tonight. The devil will find work for idle hands to do I stole and I lied, and why? Because you asked me to! But now you make me feel so ashamed.

What Difference Does It Make?

The floor of Gabe’s studio at the Collective was covered in newspaper as Gabe sat on the ground in front of a low table. There was a canvas spread out across the table - a canvas that Gabe had spent the past day acid washing to get it just right. There was a vision in his head and he was going to make it look perfect. He’d been up all night experimenting with ash and soot and how they retained color. His idea wouldn’t work if he couldn’t get the ash to hold the color just right. And he needed his idea to work. It had to work; it just had to. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.

His Smith’s album was suddenly turned off, and he glanced up in surprise to find Kale in his studio with him. Frowning, he slid his glasses up into his hair and blinked wearily at his best friend, who he was now living with. How an eccentric millionaire had become his best friend was beyond him, but here they were. “Why’d you have to do that for?” He complained, yawning. God, how long had he been in his studio for?

Kale didn’t say anything at first. Instead he filled the electric kettle with water and took bread out of the breadbox and popped it into the microwave in Gabe’s kitchenette. “I got confirmation from my guy.” And that was one of the hundred quirks of Kaleidoscope Johnson - he had a guy for everything. “Jonathan was served the divorce papers yesterday morning.”

It was quiet. Gabe didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t lightly sketching out the lines for his painting either. Kale glanced over at him, but focused instead on making toast. In fact, he didn’t say anything until he had smeared jam on the toast and made two cups of herbal tea. He set everything down on the coffee table and beckoned Gabe to join him on the couch. When Gabe didn’t move, he rolled his eyes. “You didn’t come home last night.”

There was something about the way he said it that had Gabe pulling himself to his feet and stumbling over to the couch next to him. He picked up on his mugs and rolled it between the palms of his hand. It wasn’t his mug. It was one of Jay’s. He wasn’t going to tell Kale that though. Breathing in the scent of his tea, he stared into the pink water instead of looking at the other man.

“I’m not the poster child for healthy life choices, but when was the last time you slept?” Gabe rolled the cup between his hands. “You’re right. You’re not the person who should be asking me that.” He set his tea down, and picked up one of the slices of toast. After taking a bite, he sighed softly. “Shit, I don’t know.”

Kale took the other slice of toast, but didn’t take a bite. “What are you going to do, Gabey?” His gaze dropped over to Gabe’s work-in-progress. “What the point? You’re gonna paint your ex and what? Put it on display? Drop it off at the house with a note? I know I dumped you, but here, I made this for you?”

Rolling his eyes, Gabe viciously took a bite of his toast. “Fuck you.” He grumbled out, mid-bite.

“Maybe later, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around Gabe. “Can we go home now or are you going to keep up the artist recluse thing you have going on right now?”

Gabe picked up his tea. “Can we maybe just sit here for a while?” He murmured out softly. “Yeah, okay.”

2019

“Mr. James?” He was sitting in his office going over the budget when there was a knock at his office door. It was Kid. He said he was 18, but Gabe was pretty sure he was closer to 16. “You got a minute?”

Gabe couldn’t help but to smile at him. “Got more than a couple.” He closed his laptop and looked at him. There was something about him that reminded him so much of the life he could have had. “What’s up Kid?”

Instead of saying anything, he threw a small canvas down on Gabe’s desk. “I-made-this-for-you.” He mumbled out, suddenly looking down at his feet.

Gently picking it up, Gabe couldn’t help but to grin. It looked like his Narcissus, except it was spray-painted. “You made this for me?” He couldn’t help the teasing smile that slid onto his features.

Kid looked very very embarrassed all of a sudden. “I mean, I looked you up finally. Your work is okay and shit.” He shrugged out.

“You’ve been living here for two months, and you just now looked me up?” A wry smile slid onto his features.

The teenager side dramatically. “Ugh. I knew you were going to make a big deal about this.” He huffed out before throwing his hands up in the air and leaving Gabe’s office.

2020

They were laying on the floor of the Marchette Gallery. Gabe had gotten permission from Nik to stay in the gallery with Jay overnight. There was an air mattress on the floor and at one point there had been a bottle of wine and a picnic. It was long gone now, and now they were just laying on the air mattress, the lights of the blue room from his Reflections show licking at their skin.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been laying there, staring at his art in the dark. He felt like he was five again, giving his father his drawing of that Tiffany lamp he hated. The only difference was that he knew Johnny had liked his pieces. “Did I ever tell you about this Tiffany lamp we had at the antique shop when I was little?”

Johnny was still staring at the way the blue lights reflected off the walls. “A real one?” He asked as he linked their hands together.

“Yeah.” He turned his head to watch Jay’s face. “Did you know there’s more to a Tiffany lamp than just the mosaic shade? When people buy knock-offs, they only focus on the shade, but there’s more to it than that. The real beauty is in the base. It ties the theme together.” He watched Jay’s face as he processed the information.

It was like a light bulb went off and Johnny immediately glanced at the base of the walls. Among the lights that were casting the shades of blue across the wall, were intricate silver wire twisted up together in the shape of fish. They snaked up the base of the walls, catching the light and sending it back through the room.

“Briel?” And now Johnny was looking at him. “Did you create the inside of a Tiffany lamp for me?”

Grinning, Gabe shifted so he was straddling him. “This might be brand new information for you, but I made this for you. I made all this for you.”

The other man ran gentle fingers over his face. “I hadn’t noticed.” He murmured out softly. “I never would have guessed.”

[cortexifansquint]

                        matching pairings & annotations under the cut!

                                             Youtube (x) Spotify ( x)

Buffy / Cordelia / Willow

*  Cloud 69 // Lowell

I'm like dynamite / need a cheerleader / let me throw you down / while I look at her / I'm like "Oh my god / I think I need a girlfriend"

*  Crazy // Au Revoir Simone

you knew me, wanna love to lose and to lose again / seems we're either giving up or giving in / but, uh, you girls, you drive me crazy

Willow / Tara

* There’s a Girl // The Ditty Bops

there's a girl that you might know / she's a friend at least I tell you so / but it might surprise you to find / there's something going on behind the door

* Horizon // Luna Blake 

you tower over me / you are sky and I am sea 

* Truthfully // Lisa Loeb

truthfully, I really can't explain / I'm floating, I'm smiling again 

* Room // Palehound 

she comes over / growing like a clover / in my room / in my room

* Sugar in a Pie //  Erin McKeown

love me sweet like a sugar in a pie / kiss me deep with a dreamy little sigh

Faith / Buffy

* Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover // Sophie B. Hawkins 

that old dog has chained you up, alright / give you everything you need to live inside a twisted cage / sleep beside an empty rage / I had a dream I was your hero

* Hologram // Katie Herzig

I'm gonna let you down / gonna toss you around / gonna make you want everything you haven't found / I'm gonna hold your hand / then ask you to stand / ten feet away

* Buy her Candy

she's a famous / she's the best / I cannot lay / my heart to rest / she is selfish / she is kind / no one can say / she is mine

* Nights with you // MO

I'll take you out tonight / leave it all at home / don't care about your boyfriend waking up alone

* Portions for Foxes// Rilo Kiley

'cause you're just damage control, for a walking corpse like me, like you (S6 Fuffy edition)

* Last 2nd Chance // Vaughan Penn 

this is the last second chance I’ll ever need / this is the last time you’ll hear sorry from me

Buffy / Cordelia-

* More like you // Hazel English

I could waste all of my time / thinking up ways to catch your eye / and I tried but it just didn’t feel right / and besides I'm just trying to get by

* She // Dodie 

and I'll be okay admiring from afar / cause even when she's next to me / we could not be more far apart  (late S1 - mid S2 coffy, either pov)

* Can’t / Naaz 

in my mind / I can be what we choose / but in life / we can't stand in those shoes

* Midway // Bad Bad Hats 

the shadows you were casting nearly swallowed the night /  but god, I could have kissed you (I imagine this as the night Cordelia drops Buffy home in Helpless or sometime in mid-late S3)

* Touch //  Shura 

I wanna touch you but I'm too late / I wanna touch you but there's history / I can't believe that it's been three years / now when I see you, it's so bittersweet  (if either had showed up in L.A or Sunnydale after Buffy was resurrected)

Tara / Buffy

* If I Could // Sophie Zelmani 

If I could help you with /  this part of life you've got to live /  you could load your weight on me

* Our Eyes // Lucy Rose 

I'm alive / I feel it now / I never knew I'll find it on you / out of line we got ourselves / in a look, wait we are not fine / wait, you are not mine 

* Wire // Alessi Ark 

I'm tired of walking this wire / it keeps me awake for heaven sake / I was made for this girl / I feel lonely / my friends don't seem to know me / like i thought they did

Willow / Cordelia

* Upper West Side // King Princess

I can't stop judging every thing you do / but I can't get enough of you

* Then If I’m Weird I Want to Share // Tender Forever

people told me / that you're too sexy / you're too sexy for me / but actually I just don't care / I think it's bullshit everywhere

Buffy / Willow

* Loners // Maddie Ross

one night alone in the bookstacks / summer to make all the kids sad / next fall we're back in the corner / nice girls love kissing the loners

* Ray of Sunshine // Go Sailor 

yellow hair, fiery stare / nothing's right, 'cause she's not here tonight 

* Explosion // Zolita 

it's a mindless love affair / one hot mess of bleach blonde hair / I could kiss her but your lips taste better / you could kiss him but my words are sweeter

* Sweet Moon // Sundarta 

when the world is big and I’m alone / I call you and I am home

Faith / Tara

* Will You Be My Girlfriend // Alanis Morissette 

I guess I fall and you stay intact is that right? I guess you hear me and won't attack me, is that right? guess I reach out and you reach back, is that right?

* Not gonna Get Us // T.at.u 

soon there will be laughter and voices / beyond the clouds over the mountains / we'll run away on roads that are empty / lights from the airfield shining upon you (teenage runaway mehane)

* Love you Anyway // Jil Nisson & Marlene

I know what you've been getting / coz I sure got it too / don't, don't you forget it / the damage they do

* Walk The Line // Halsey

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine / I keep my eyes wide open all the time / I keep the ends out for the tie that binds / because you're mine, I walk the line

Willow / Amy

* Wherever We Are // Human Life

after the day we're chasing the sun / farther away the faster we run / feet on the ground our head in the stars / finding the sound wherever we are

* When We’re High // LP 

let’s swallow the moon and the stars / let’s wallow just right where we are

Amy / Faith

* Whiskey & Black Leather // Sapphic Lasers

some they want a girl next door / but that ain't what I'm looking for / I first saw your lips across the room / red like a blood moon

* Her Lover // Ally & Stevie 

she is like a cat in the dark / and then she is the darkness

* High Enough // K Flay 

don’t try to give me cold water / I don’t wanna sober up / all I see are tomorrows / oh, the stars were made for us

Cordelia / Anya

*  Only a Girl // Gia

soft touch, warm skin / nothing like my ex-man / slowly falling, I don't want my next man

* I Don’t Do Boys // Elektra 

I don't do boys, I just do girls / just do girls with style and class / I don't do boys, I just do girls / just do girls with kissable ass

Fuffy / Radison

* One More // Elliphant 

stay with me tonight / we can count the street lights / stay with me alright let's bring it all back to life (bad girls & smashed shennanigans)

Dark Willow / Anyanka + Darla / Drusilla + Lilah / Cordelia (Jasmine possessed version)

* Glory & Gore // Lorde

delicate in every way but one, / God knows we like archaic kinds of fun / chance is the only game I play with / baby, we let our battles choose us 

“ Your Lips are Red // St. Vincent

this city's red / this city's red from riding us into the ground / this city's black / this city's black from all the ashes in downtown

Willow / Anya

* Wishful Thinking // The Ditty Bops 

when the cold and lonely hours put your heart to the test / maybe I'll be the one that you like best (S7 Rosekins)

* The Happy Song // Kate Miccuci 

'cause isn't it nice to have the friends that you do? / and isn't it nice that the sky is so blue? / and isn't it nice to say "I love you"? (the cheery & matter -of-factly style of this song reminds me of anya)

Faith / Willow

* So-Called Str8 Grrrl // Gina Young

I think you want me / you know you want me / so why do you talk shit about me

* She’s so Lovely // The Butchies 

she's a rocker dressed like a killer / she's got lips like wine not sugar 

* Sum of your parts // Mary Lambert

I didn't know I was a phoenix till I learned how to speak / even with ashes in my mouth I was still born to breath / I wonder are you like me

* All I Want is To Be Your Girl // Holly Miranda

Well there's ghosts in the night and ghosts in my mind / and if we quit changing we'll be left behind / but I won't take another chance of screwing it up / so I stay where I am / but all I want is to be your girl

Buffy / Satsu

* Cliff’s Edge // Hayley Kiyoko

you turn me on / you lead me on / you got me on / a cliff's edge (satsu’s pov)

* One Night // Charlie XCX 

you are somethin’ special / twenty carats, solid gold / what we had was precious / but I had to let you go

Cordelia / Lilah

* Short Skirt, Long Jacket // Larkin Poe

I want a girl with a mind like a diamond / I want a girl who knows what's best I want a girl with shoes that cut / and eyes that burn like cigarettes

Fuffy + Willow / Kennedy

* We Might be Dead by Tomorrow // Soko

give me all your love / ‘cause for all we know / we might be dead by tomorrow

Kendra / Buffy

* Eleventeen // Kimya Dawson

you may feel strange, well, you are an angel / stuck in tight pants stuck at a high school dance / stuck doing people things not knowing you have wings

* Supergirl // Anna Naklab

you can see in her eyes / that no one is her chain / she's my girl / my supergirl

Cordelia / Faith

* Can I Say Baby // GIRLI 

can I say baby? / I don't wanna be soppy / but I like your style / think you're kinda cool / I'm sort of into you

* Rebel Girl // Bikini Kill 

rebel girl rebel girl / I think I want to take you home / I want to try on your clothes

* Flowers and Rope // Princess Nokia

voices in my head, monsters under my bed / I'm alone again, I lost all my friends / wanna play pretend? hope this never ends

Fred / Faith

* Whiskey // Nicole Reynolds

you accept that i talk too much / i accept that you talk too little / but it's fine / i like a good riddle

In the Margins // Ani Difranco

you are a rare bird / the kind i wouldn't even mind / writing in the margins of my books

Willow / Kennedy

* Pretty Girl // Hayley Kiyoko 

I can tell you’re real smart / world class piece of art / I can see you in the dark / all we have to do is start

* Let it Go // Allie Moss 

darlin' you see / the fear in me / and how I'd finally be / if I were willing to let it go

Buffy / Anne

* Annonymous Club //  Courtney Barnett 

let's start an anonymous club / I'll make us name badges with question marks

* Hideaway // IVY 

under stars and satellites / a thousand miles / from where we've been

Willow/Fred + Buffy/Tara

* I Was Made for Sunny Days // The Weepies

I was made for sunny days / and I was made for you

Faith / Kennedy

* Crimson and Clover //  Joan Jett & the Blackhearts 

ah, now I don't hardly know her / but I think I can love her

“ Honey // Kehlani

I like my girls just like I like my honey; sweet / a little selfish

Cordelia / Fred

* Genius // The Murmurs

she's kinda weird / she's kinda freaky / but I don't know / I think she's a genius

* There she goes // Sixpence None the Richer 

there she goes / there she goes again / racing through my brain / and I just can't contain / this feeling that remains

[amandajoyce118]

Shazam Easter Eggs And Comic Book References

Now that Shazam has been in theaters for over a week, I thought I’d share the list of Easter eggs I found. A tiny bit of background for those non comic book fans: Shazam was originally named Captain Marvel back in the day, but that name didn’t work out for many, many reasons that’ll pop up in the list below. Shazam stands for Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, and Mercury, the deities that the powers were supposed to provide nods to. The movie premiered on the 80th anniversary of the character debuting in comic books. In the movie, Billy Batson is gifted with the powers of Shazam in order to battle a great evil, but Billy’s more preoccupied with taking care of himself, avoiding his foster family, and finding his birth mother.

Now, there will be spoilers, so if you haven’t yet seen the movie, you’ve been warned.

Sivana’s Father

Recognize the actor playing the elder Sivana? That’s John Glover. As DC loves to do with its movies, they’ve given a small, but noteworthy, role to someone who has worked in other DC projects. In this case, Glover was Lionel Luthor on Smallville, a mad scientist in Batman and Robin, and provided voiceover work in animated series as the Riddler. (Also previously cast in DC projects? Adam Brody and DJ Cotrona. They appear as a adult versions of Freddy and Pedro, respectively. They were also both cast in Frank Miller’s Justice League: Mortal as Flash and Superman, again respectively. The movie never got off the ground. Likewise, Djimon Hounsou also appeared in Aquaman. He and Zachary Levi have also been in Marvel movies.)

The Caterpillar

We learn more about this caterpillar looking creature in the mid credit scene. He’s actually the classic Shazam villain Mr. Mind. Looks like he’s being set up as the villain for the sequel.

Annabelle

So you remember the doll from Annabelle getting a cameo in Aquaman? She also gets a cameo here. She’s on a shelf in the pawn shop when Billy traps the police. It’s a nod from director David S. Sandberg since he also directed Annabelle: Creation.

Billy Wants The Tiger

I think it’s cute that toddler Billy really wants that stuffed tiger. Why? Because the Shazam family actually has a tiger at one point in the comics. Or maybe it’s the Flashpoint version of the family, which is actually the Captain Thunder family in that universe. Either way, they have a tiger. It’s a nice way to show Billy letting go of his past later when he gives a stuffed tiger to the little girl hiding at the fair. There’s also a nod in the tiger on his backpack and the faces of tigers on the pins holding his cape in place (which I couldn’t see on film, but did in HD photos online).

The Smiley Face

There are a lot of smiley faces on the desk of Billy’s social worker. A coffee mug, stress ball, and a few other things have the yellow smiley faces on them. It’s a nod to the smiley face of the Watchmen comics.

The Crocodile

The same scene features a small toy crocodile, which might seem like an odd choice. That’s only if you don’t know that Shazam has a few villains in his Captain Marvel past with a crocodile theme. I’m not sure which one this is a nod to, but take I like Sobek AKA the Crocodile Man for the nod. Especially since the Crocodile Men get a nod later in the many magical doors.

Freddy, Mary, Darla, Pedro, and Eugene

These five feature in a lot of Shazam backstory. Freddy actually debuted in the original Captain Marvel comics as a disabled newsboy while Mary was Mary Batson, Billy’s long lost sister. Before Flashpoint and the New 52 relaunch of DC comics, there was a plan to launch a new Shazam AKA Captain Marvel title, rebranding the hero as Captain Thunder. The plan was to introduce Darla, Pedro, and Eugene then, but it never got off the ground. Instead, they were all introduced as Billy’s foster siblings in Flashpoint, officially becoming part of the DC Universe in the new 52. Together, all of the kids could unite to form Captain Thunder (with their tiger). In the original Captain Marvel series, Freddy was actually Kid Marvel and Mary was Mary Marvel when Billy shared his power with them. Different from the movie, they each didn’t have full power, but instead, a portion of the same finite amount of power, making each new addition progressively weaker than the one before.

DC Memorabilia

Making it clear that the DC superheroes have become household names, Freddy owns a lot of memorabilia. Not only does he have action figures of long time big names Batman and Superman, but he also has newspaper clippings of all the main events, even some from the Daily Planet. He also sports logo tee shirts for Wonder Woman and Aquaman, meaning they’re better known than they were before.

The Rock Of Eternity

The Rock of Eternity is the name of the place where Billy receive’s Shazam’s power. In that “lair” though, there are a few relics from the comics that come people might miss. There is, of course, Mr. Mind’s jar and the statues of the Sins. Beyond that though, there is also the magic mirror (named Francesca in the comics) and a scepter called the Ibistick (it belonged to the Egyptian prince Ibis the Invincible).

Black Adam

A lot of fans thought Black Adam would appear in some cameo form in the movie. He might be the most famous of Shazam villains, and there were talks of Dwayne Johnson taking on the role. The villain doesn’t appear in the movie, but his story does. He’s the subject of the story the wizard tells Billy. He’s the hero that decided he wanted all of the power of the council for himself.

Fawcett Central School

The school is named for Fawcett Comics. Fawcett Comics was the original publisher of Captain Marvel stories, the name given to the Billy Batson superhero. National Comics (AKA DC Comics) eventually sued Fawcett because they thought Captain Marvel was too similar to Superman. Fawcett Comics quit publishing his stories and eventually went under, the copyright for the character transferring to DC. DC started publishing Captain Marvel stories until Marvel Comics decided that a name like Captain Marvel fit more with their brand. These days, Carol Danvers is Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics) and Billy Batson is Shazam (DC Comics) instead of the way things started.

Moran

The security officer at the school’s name is inspired by another version of Captain Marvel. A British publisher rewrote the American Captain Marvel stories as Marvelman AKA Miracleman after the Captain Marvel lawsuits. The hero’s name was Michael Moran.

Ace Chemicals

Batman fans know this name because it’s the company that gave birth to the Joker. We got a glimpse of one of their factories during a Suicide Squad flashback sequence as the Joker took Harley Quinn to prove her love for him. That same location, and therefore the same factory, was used in Shazam. It’s the location where Freddy and Billy try to figure out his powers. You can even see a bit of the faded company logo on tanks in one shot.

Captain Sparkle Fingers

One of the many names Billy gets over the course of the film, this one is unique. Why? Because it’s a shout out to the Carol Danvers version of Captain Marvel. She actually gets called Princess Sparkle Fists a few times. When Freddy uploads videos of Billy’s powers online, he also calls him Zap-tain America in one as a nod to Captain America and Red Cyclone as a nod to a DC Comics character.

C.C. Batson

Billy’s father’s name is a nod to C.C. Beck, who helped create the original comics. Likewise, Billy’s mother is from Minnesota, which is where Beck was born.

The Floor Piano

During the climactic fight scene, Billy and Sivana go across a piano matt on the floor of a toy store, or the toy section of a department store. It’s a brief few steps, but it’s a nice, quick homage to the Tom Hank movie Big where a little boy becomes an adult overnight, not unlike how Billy’s super powers work.

Seven

If you pay attention, the number seven is all over this movie. There are, of course, Seven Deadly Sins, Billy’s mother is on the seventh floor of her building in room 707, and Freddy wants seven bedrooms for their family in a new lair. Seven is long thought to be a magical number (see the Harry Potter books for examples of the way it’s used), so it’s fitting that it gets used a lot for a superhero who gets his powers from a sorcerer. It’s also the number of realms the family explores in the modern comics.

A Little Foreshadowing

When Thaddeus first enters the Rock of Eternity and peers at the orb, the light of the orb reflects on the lens of the same eye where it will eventually embed.

Billy’s new foster siblings have their favorite colors. The jackets they wear in various scenes throughout the movie correspond to the colors of their super suits.

That’s all I’ve got, guys. But this isn’t a time I’ve watched the movie more than once, so I’ve likely missed some things. Let me know if you’ve spotted something I missed.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

(This is from before SUF aired; I’m just cleaning out my drafts)

More on the Gem AU:

Fusions:

In this ‘verse, a gem can fuse with anyone sentient enough to make that decision, regardless of whether they’re a gem, organic or robot.

Gem-gem fusions are the only ones that can last for longer stretches (on the order of centuries+), due to physical requirements.

Gem-robot fusions last longer than gem-organic fusions for this reason.

Gem-robot fusions can last decades, if said fusion is careful, but tend not to last as long as gem-gem fusions.

Fusions are way more fluid, for lack of a better term, than in SU. A fusion will always reflect the most current relationship between their components as of fusing.

How well the components are working together can be observed in a fusion’s number of limbs, eyes, etc. and changes from instance to instance. If the components have a stable relationship, their fusion’s appearance rarely changes very significantly.

That being said, a “perfect” fusion could still have four eyes, four arms and hands for feet, depending on what the gem’s preferred form is and what kind of being they fused with in the first place.

Misc-Gem-related:

Like the Zoni-- and for very similar reasons-- gems are extremely vulnerable to sonic attacks. The Hypersonic Brainwave Scrambler is an abomination.

I’m thinking Darla Gratch may be a gem just for the regeneration joke, and I like the idea that Max Apogee was a gem who was enchanted by the lombax race and spent centuries studying them.

Ace Hardlight may be a gem, because with that last name, how can I not.

Nefarious might be a gem who created a metal body for himself instead of using his light form. I’m not sure why that would be at this point, but it’s a possibility. Probably has to do with Qwark. He may be Raritanium.

IRIS is still a supercomputer, but with a gem as part of her inner workings.

I considered giving the Plumber this treatment, but it’s funnier when we don’t know what his deal is. You do you, The Plumber. You do you.

If he was a gem, though, he would 100% be Sewer Crystal.

I kind of want him to be a gem just for that.

Story related:

Obviously with such a massive shift in Ratchet’s origin, ToD is pretty screwed. I figure Tachyon still goes after him under the impression that he is a lombax and tries to play it off like he knew he missed one. Nobody corrects him until the last confrontation. He doesn’t take it well.

Because he’s not a lombax, Ratchet’s not nearly as desperate to use the Dimensionator. He’s viewing the situation with the lombaxes as a way to make up for not being able to save Kaden. He’s stubborn about it, but things don’t get nearly as heated as they do canonically.

Alister is pissed when he first meets Ratchet, because he still looks a lot like Kaden, and, in this universe, Kaden didn’t have any children, so it’s obvious something’s up. He eventually calms down when he realizes they have similar histories (if on massively different scales) and both want to atone by bringing the lombaxes back.

Because there isn’t any familial/emotional connection to his best friend, Alister sees Ratchet as more a means to an end than anything.

The rescue scene absolutely results in a mid-air fusion. He separates as soon as he reaches solid ground not because he has to, but so his components can see one another again.

Alister still attacks Ratchet, and all but shatters him. Clank reaches him before that can totally happen, and manages to fuse with him out of desperation, but Ratchet’s gone by that point. Physically, he may be a fusion, but he’s the only consciousness there. The choice to reverse time is entirely his, because I think that’s really important.

I like to call this scenario ‘A One-Sided Conversation’ because I love suffering.

They fight Alister as a fusion.

100% projecting Stronger Than You feelings onto this.

Specifically, I’m feeling, “I am even more than the two of them, everything they care about is what I am.”

Character specific notes:

Both Ratchet and Clank can store items. They tend to split it up so Ratchet handles the weaponry and Clank holds onto anything else they deem important. They have differing ideas as to what constitutes “important”, so both tend to hang onto things the other considers junk.

Fleeting thought, but it would be funny if Ratchet attempted to store the Zoni similarly.

Their fusion has access to anything either of them has put away. This isn’t always a good thing.

It took a solid chunk of time for Clank to realize that Ratchet was also a gem. He introduced himself with his adopted name and keeps his gem hidden most of the time, so it’s less that Clank didn’t notice and more that the measures Ratchet took to protect himself were working properly.

It would still happen over the course of the first ‘game’, to be clear.

In the public eye, nobody seems entirely sure which of them is a gem or if either of them is. This includes Qwark, who definitely knew at some point, but didn’t care enough to remember.

Ratchet’s older than Clank by a little under two decades. By gem standards, they’re more or less the same age-- and are both super young and inexperienced.

They first fuse at the end of the original storyline, the part where, under normal circumstances, Clank’s arm would break and they would fall from the Deplanetizer. In this version, he loses his form in the blast and Ratchet unintentionally draws him out via fusion while they’re falling. Neither has experienced fusing before-- and may not even be aware that it’s a thing-- so it’s just a whole lotta “?????”

The UYA-era fight against Nefarious might be one of the few fights they specifically fuse in anticipation for.

[unrivalled-trio-archived]

OK so Darla loves taking pictures so after every mission she takes a selfie with everyone. She doesn’t always give a warning beforehand however so some pics are just the top of her face with her brother passed out on in the ground and Kimmy mid sneeze or something so she’s making an ugly face. 

Other times she lets them know and their all doing weird poses. Like maybe Andrew holding the soul and Kimmy kissing Darla’s cheek. Or she waits till a little bit later and their all at a dinner and takes the pic when no ones paying attention. They're all just so used to it they ignore her. 

[bandcampsnoop]

7/21/17.

Milk Teddy released “Zingers” in 2012.  I bought it and listened it into the ground.  I waited, and then probably forgot about this band.  Mark Monnone’s Lost and Lonesome label are bringing “Time Catches Up With Milk Teddy” in mid-August.  I’m hoping that Darla Records will carry this...I’ve got a big order planned (Francis Plagne, BMX Bandits, Orwell).

As far as Milk Teddy (Melbourne, Australia) goes, it’s really difficult to find true comparisons.  I would say the only one that comes immediately to mind is The Shins or Band of Horses (due to vocals).  But this band takes a somewhat unconventional approach to pop music.

[youngerdrgrey]

if you don’t, it’s cool (untitled 04) // a queen sugar moment

.

written for day 15 of the 30 x 31 writing challenge; prompt: line from a song as the title ("untitled 04" by Kendrick Lamar)

+ on ao3

/

When Remy's frustrated, he licks his lips. He'd done it back in the storm, when she'd pushed for the workers to stay and he hadn't been able to convince her otherwise. He'd licked his lips like he was gearing to say something, then just stood there beside her. He does it whenever he holds himself back. So, when they're in his office after a long day of going over plans for the mill, she keeps an eye out for the tick. Just to keep track of his limits.

She checks off another farmer's name from her list. The goal for today is to finish drafting up paperwork for all of the farmers about to take a chance on her. She will hand deliver the paperwork to each of the farmers on Friday, along with a signed notice explaining the suggested next few steps in getting out of their contracts with the Landrys. The first one to get paperwork will be Ralph Angel, more as a courtesy than anything else. And even then, Charley rolls her eyes once she comes to his name on the list.

"I don't understand why he keeps fighting me on this."

She says it like they're mid-conversation, but Remy doesn't miss a beat. He tends to respond to her as if he's an extension of herself at this point. It should be unnerving, to have someone come into her life and so quickly integrate himself into her. And yet, at this point, it's mostly just comforting to have someone who hears not just what she's saying but what she can't quite put into words.

He shakes his head from his place at his desk. "Ralph Angel just wants to be consulted. He might be on pay roll, but he runs the farm."

"I thought the money ran the farm." She saves her template document under his name and starts filling in the blanks. "And it's not like I don't listen to him."

Remy snorts. She glares at him, and he does glance over then. He says, "When's the last time you heard that boy? And I mean, actually heard him. Not just let what he said go in one ear and out the other."

"Just about the farm or anything?" Because if it's anything, then she heard him just yesterday. He'd wanted to order in from the good barbecue place rather than cooking since Vi was taking some personal time. And even though Charley wanted spaghetti more than anything, she'd compromised. And announced that spaghetti would be dinner tonight. Which reminds her -- "We'll have to be going soon."

Remy turns in his chair. "Don't try to get out of answering me." Honestly, it shouldn't be fair for him to sound so sexy when he tells her no. His voice gets gruff around the edges. She pushes her laptop half closed to get a better look at him.

The office has one desk, then a long table that she's taken over for the night. The chair all the students sit in for office hours has been repurposed as her own. She's even got a box of old files acting as a foot rest. But she has to bring her feet back to level so he can know she's serious.

"I'm not trying anything. It's getting late. We haven't eaten--"

"And you haven't listened to your brother in weeks. Not since before we got the cane in the ground."

Even then, she mostly listened to him when delegating suited her interests. Why bother hearing anything when she was still dealing with Davis? But now, she can give her full attention to what's happening, and Ralph Angel has a tendency to hear what he wants. Which, Remy seems to be telling her, is a family trait.

"Fine." She puts her hands up in mock defense. "I don't listen."

"You don't. And I swear, if you didn't look so good, you wouldn't get away with half of what you do."

And there's the Remy she's coming to know. The one who finds a way to slide a compliment into everything he says. She finds herself smirking before she can help it. Notes the way her chest rises and her eyes latch onto his. "I thought we were talking about Ralph Angel."

He shrugs, wheels his seat over to the table so they're across from each other. "We were. But I think we could talk about the bigger problem."

"Which is?"

He closes her laptop the rest of the way. His voice comes out light, like it's a fact rather than an attack. "You don't know how to trust people."

Her husband cheated on her for years. "I'd think it's pretty understandable."

"But there are people who've proven themselves worthy of your trust. At least, I would think so. People who haven't steered you wrong, or taken more from you than you could give."

The people in this category are pretty limited. Vi can be there, Micah, Remy, of course, but Ralph Angel did a lot of asking without backing himself up. And Nova stole money, for which she still hasn't apologized. Though, in his defense, Ralph Angel shouldn't have to explain everything he does. But he has to because he makes such dumb mistakes. He'd pulled a gun on the men who tried to take the tractor. He'd brought Darla to Vi's house after everyone in the world knew how much Vi hated Darla. He'd -- well, he'd gone to prison.

That's what it came down to. All his life, Charley trusted him to make the right choice. He had the whole of the family looking out for him, not to mention how much their dad worshipped the ground Ralph Angel so much as glanced at. And he'd managed to do everything wrong. Got Darla pregnant, got into drugs, got locked up, and Charley had to find out through half a voicemail and a reporter from TMZ who wanted to watch her crumble in person.

She'd been picking up Micah from school when a reporter had rushed up to her and asked how she felt about her baby brother getting locked up. If she and Davis would be going to get him out. If she thought this bad behavior would affect Micah. And she'd laughed off the reporter saying that her family would never. Her brother would never. Then she'd listened to Nova's voicemail in the car. 

"Hey. Sis, listen, Rah's in some trouble, and we're trying to figure it out now. We'll call tonight, okay? Keep your phone up."

Hadn't told her a damn thing. Left her looking stupid and feeling even more lost in the world.

She doesn't want to think about this. She wants to flirty with Remy, finish her paperwork, and eat some spaghetti at Vi's house. Or maybe just the first one and the last one.

She slips her laptop off the table and places it in her bag. Grabs her notepad and papers too.

"Hey, where you going?"

She zips the bag up. "I'm starving, Remy, and--"

"And you're running away. See that's -- that's something right there."

Does she detect some judgment in his voice? "We can keep talking."

"On your terms," he adds. He leans back in his seat, and he turns his head to the side before licking his lips. Her eyes widen, and he comes back to face her. "What?"

Nothing. She swallows that word down. "You can finish your sentence."

He shakes his head. "I just want you to know that you can loosen the reigns a bit. Give him a longer leash. Give us all some room to make mistakes."

Oh she can? Every time she gives people some rope, they trip her with it and leave her with her ass in the air and her face to the pavement. But he's already frustrated, so snapping at him won't help. He's already wanting for something that she's apparently not giving him freely enough.

But she really does want to know what he thinks she'll get out of giving people space. Sure, they might surprise her, but they might also ruin her plans with that. Like, if Ralph Angel had made his plan and gone through with it, her mill wouldn't have the farm's support. Her mill wouldn't have her own family behind it. It wouldn't work. But, his plan did work with what they had for the most cost effective solution. Well researched and actually, honestly doable, which is more than what could've been said for the Ralph Angel of the past.

But Nova's still a mess. She never apologized for the money. But she had been right to say that Charley would've done anything for Micah. And Nova cared for Too Sweet so much in such a short period of time. Every instinct in Nova's body to protect and love and nurture came through ten fold and Too Sweet's all the better for it. Even Micah's a little better for it, since he saw it and got to meet Too Sweet, got to know that his aunt is more than just words and thoughts. Nova's a woman of action. Their whole family acts before thinking most of the time. It's stressful, but it gets results.

So long as no one gets locked up again, and no one steals ten thousand dollars, "I'll work on it. Now, can we go eat?"

Remy nods and slides back over to pack his own stuff up. "You know, when I first invited you to my office, I got this image. Of you, on the desk." He whistles low while rolling up some of his sketches and plans.

She could give in, but she really does need to eat, and if he'd wanted that particular image, he probably should've left the conversation alone.

"Maybe next time."

He glances her way, licks his lips with a different sort of meaning behind it. "I'll hold you to that."

.

.

.

[wanderingaunt]

Signs of Rocks and Bees, A Wild Story about Asking & Receiving

How often do you stop and pay attention to the environment around you? Or better yet, how often do you pay attention to signs or patterns in your life?

I don’t know about you, but for me, I am in my head a lot. I tend to overthink, over-analyze, and pretty much drive myself (and others) crazy when it comes to making decisions or large commitments, or when I’m feeling lost in an area of life. The more I am in my head, the more frustrated and irritated I get. Luckily, I’ve done enough work in this area so I don’t let it linger too long. I try to remember that there’s always a choice. I can continue to allow myself to go through the cycle/turmoil or I can choose to do something about it.

There is so much power in choosing to move through the frustration and allow awareness and insight to step in.

I’ve spent the past 6 months visioning what it is that I’m meant to create at this stage in my life. I’ve gone from idea to idea inspired and fearful of taking a chance on myself. I’ve felt scattered and worried that others see me and my ideas this way. It wasn’t until recently that I could see that everything I’ve been putting out there is actually coming together to create a beautiful brand and offering.

All of the dreaming and visioning was planting a seed that I wasn’t ready to see until recently.

A couple weeks ago I took a trip to Colorado to visit my coach and dear friend, Allison. For me, Allison is a constant rock in my life and beautiful example of what it is to ask, surrender, and receive what comes. About 2 years ago, Allison got a vision for opening a retreat center in Colorado. She happened to be in Grand Junction and fell in love with the area. Fast forward to Fall of 2018 and she got word that a condo was opening in the area so she and her husband packed up their house and moved from Texas to Colorado. They had planned on moving in April, but jumped on the move when the opportunity came available. When they arrived they immediately began scoping out land for their retreat center. They thought they might have to buy land and build it from the ground up. Well, as you can guess, signs continued to show up, and they were presented with a retreat center that was already built and ready to go, and on the most beautiful piece of land with the mountains in the distance.

I had plans to go on a trip in Mid-May with a couple friends of mine. We were planning on going to San Francisco until I saw a post from Allison inviting people to come to her new retreat center and help get it ready for opening. I immediately texted my friends and told them this is where we were meant to go. A week later we were in Colorado in the most serene place gathering rocks to place throughout a labyrinth. It was a lot of hard, manual labor, and one of the most therapeutic and spiritual experiences I’ve had. When I was gathering rocks, I selected each rock with intention and knew that each one had a special place within the labyrinth.

When I’m in nature, my awareness is heightened. It’s like I’m experiencing creation and all its beauty for the first time.

I try and pay attention to signs and messages when I’m in nature. I believe when you’re present and open to signs and miracles, there’s always something to be seen and learned. I picked up a rock and there was a bee’s nest attached to it, and out flew a pretty yellow bee. Later I was moving more rocks and picked up another and there was another bee. I was sharing this with Allison and she said they don’t see bees in that area much. So for me, I knew I it was meant for me to see. Bees symbolize productivity and hard work.

It was a sign that change is coming and that it’s time to put in the hard work to build what I’ve been envisioning.

After Colorado, I headed to California for a retreat focused on amplifying a retreat based business. As it goes with most retreats I attend, I was excited and fired up on day 1, and in a funk on day 2. As transformation begins to settle in and new awareness is exposed, lots of emotions will come into play. I found myself in a scattered space again—feeling hopeful at what I wanted to create while also in disbelief that it wouldn’t happen. I was also feeling anxious.

On the afternoon of day 2, our incredible retreat leader, Darla, told us of a year-long coaching program to support our businesses and personal growth. While she was sharing about the program, my stomach was in knots and I was feeling tense. I immediately got in my head about it and was telling myself that my body was signaling me not to do it. I didn’t need another program; I needed to take action and get started with all of the resources and information I already had within me. And while that is true, I do have everything I need within me, there was something unsettling about saying no. Just like clockwork, my indecisive ways came into play. I found myself in angst and not wanting to make a commitment. I skipped going to dinner with the other retreat attendees that night and spent all of my energy tuning into my head and listening to all of its noise.

Years ago, I was sitting in a meeting with my former coworkers. We were talking about my fears around commitment and how I was always waiting for something better to come along rather than seeing what was right in front of me. I remember my boss saying that if I was on a sinking boat and a rescue boat came to save me, I would let it pass. I’d say “No, I’m okay. A helicopter is coming to get me.” While that could be true (I do always look for the best in situations…), the point is that I often overlook what’s right in front of me. I spend so much energy trying to find the best solution rather than getting still, quiet, and asking for the best solution to be shown to me.

I ended up waking in the middle of the night and could not go back to sleep. My mind was racing and I kept feeling anxious. When the sun finally came up, I decided to get up and walk down to the beach to watch the sunrise. I had spent the night before talking to one of my best friends about this program and how I wasn’t going to do it. I thought that by going down to the beach, I’d be able to let go of my angst and be at peace with my decision. But I was still in my head and resisting quieting my mind. I called my other best friend and again talked through my indecision. I went back to the room to get ready for our last day of the retreat.

During the first part of the morning, Darla shared a story with us about one of the first times she was up against a big decision about investing in herself and her business. She had experienced a visceral reaction to signing up and knew it was fear standing in her way rather than her body signaling not to do it. That was what I needed to hear. It wasn’t that my body was telling me not to do this program, it was fear. I was up against something bigger than me; something that could support my ideas and turn them into action. And then I realized something even greater.

It wasn’t the program; it was me believing that I wasn’t worth investing in myself.

And just like that it was as if everything I had been building or dreaming was in front of me, and I didn’t believe that I was worthy of receiving any of it. And while I know logically that isn’t true, internally, it’s what I believed and carried with me in all areas of my life—building a business, dating, putting myself out there.

We did a short meditation to prep us for a releasing ceremony at the beach. The team had collected a handful of rocks and placed them on a table in the back. Darla invited us to tune into our awareness and become present to something that we were ready to release. After the meditation, I wrote down that I was “no longer available for not being able to make decisions” and that I was giving up making myself wrong about choices I’ve made. I smiled and thought, “This is great! I’ll gladly release these things.”

We walked to the back of the room and each selected a rock. I immediately saw my rock. It was white, round, and slightly larger than the other rocks. As I reached down to pick up my rock, a new thought came to me. “It’s time to give up the conversation that you’re not worth it.” It was crystal clear that in order for me to expand and own who I am, I must give up the story of not being worth it. I picked up my rock and headed out the door.

While walking down to the beach, I noticed that the group was way ahead of me. And I realized that I often do that in group situations without intentionally meaning to. I give myself space to be alone so I can focus on my energy and no one else’s. I prayed and asked for clarity on my walk down. I was ready to release this story and wanted to be open for something new to reveal itself. I held my rock and looked up and said, “Okay God. Give me a sign. If I’m meant to do this program, just give me a sign.”

One by one we each walked up to the water and released our rocks and what no longer served us into the ocean. When it was my turn, I walked up to the water with a readiness to release this lie. I threw my rock forward and yelled, “I’M F**ING WORTH IT!!” And in the ocean went my rock and 3 bracelets that I was wearing on my wrist. And they weren’t just any 3 bracelets—they were my bracelets that I wore everyday. One bracelet was from the first meditation retreat in Guatemala that showed me that it was time to stop playing safe and quit my decade long career; the second bracelet was from completing Yoga Teacher Training; and the third was from a retreat in Mexico that got me to commit to my dreams and book a one way ticket to Thailand to start my nomadic journey.

I stood there stunned by what had just happened.

Tears immediately began to fall down my face as I realized that my beloved bracelets were in the ocean. Everyone ran up and said “We’ll go get them for you!” I laughed and said they were gone. There was no way to retrieve them. They had dispersed in 3 separate areas far into the ocean. I looked back at my group and said, “No. They were meant to go.” And I knew in that instance what I was meant to do. I had asked for a sign and it could not have been any clearer. This was one time where I was not going to wait any longer for a helicopter to come rescue me.

One of the coaches gave me a hug and held my wrist and told me I was making space for something new. And I looked down and could see my tattoo that symbolized surrender.

It was time for me to give up control and trust what is to come.

After I signed up for the program, I immediately felt a wave of calm and peace come over me. I guess that’s what it feels like to surrender and let go of trying to control everything myself. I can’t make up any of what happened, and I will forever remember the experiences I had in Colorado and on the beach that day. I have no idea what the future holds or what my life will look like a month from now or even a year when this program is complete.

What I do know and believe, though, is that I am worth it. I am worth investing in myself and the people who are meant to work with me.

If you’re ready to step through the fear and invest in yourself, schedule an Empowerment Call with me. Let’s create magic together and step into a life of courage, confidence, and connection. Schedule your call here.

[victoriagloverstuff]

Rebecca Solnit: They Think They Can Bully the Truth

Cousin to the noun dictator is the verb dictate. There are among us people who assume their authority is so great they can dictate what happened, that their assertions will override witnesses, videotapes, evidence, the historical record, that theirs is the only voice that matters, and it matters so much it can stand tall atop the conquered facts. Lies are aggressions. They are attempts to dictate, to trample down the facts and those who hold them, and they lay the groundwork for the dictatorships, the little ones in families, the big ones in nations.

Black Lives Matter has shown us policemen who continued to insist on their version of events when there is videotaped evidence to the contrary, or when physical evidence and eyewitnesses contradicts their account of events. You realize that they had assumed they could dictate reality, because for decades they actually had, and they were having a hard time adjusting to reality dictating back. As one of the Marx Brothers quipped long ago, “Who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?” The police assumed it was neither our eyes nor the evidence.

In February of 2015, two San Francisco policemen shot a 20-year-old Guatemalan immigrant, Amilcar Perez-Lopez, to death. All the bullets entered him from behind—four went into his torso through his back—but they claim they shot in self-defense because he was rushing them. They did not face consequences, for lying, or for taking the life of a young man trying to get by in a strange land. Two months later, in North Charleston, South Carolina, Walter Scott was shot by a policeman while he too fled. He too died of bullets to the back, but his killer claimed self-defense in an account that differed dramatically from the videotape (which appears to show him planting a weapon on the victim after he had fallen) and eyewitness accounts. Scott’s killer got a 20-year sentence.

That victims will remain voiceless was the presumption behind much of the sexual abuse that’s been uncovered in the #MeToo era. Getting away with it is the same thing as assuming that no one will know, because your victim will be intimidated or shamed into silence, or that if he or she speaks up they can be discredited or menaced back into silence, or that even if they don’t shut up no one will believe them because your credibility crushes theirs. That yours is the only version that counts, even if you have to use savage means to make it so. Jane Mayer and Ronan Farrow reported of former New York attorney general Eric Schneiderman’s four victims, “All have been reluctant to speak out, fearing reprisal.” But it was he who faced reprisal in the end, because the rules changed, because a critical mass of women broke the silence and the system that perpetuated that silence, because the media that largely ignored or trivialized these stories began to take them seriously.

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Most of us think of truth as something that arises from facts that exist independently of our wills and whims; we have no choice in the matter, but we also believe in some sort of objective reality—either a thing did or did not happen, a sentence was or was not said, a substance is or is not poison. (And yes, I read lots of postmodern theory once upon a time and know all the counterarguments, but you know what I’m talking about.) What’s clear now is that most is not all, that a minority of us think that they can enforce a version that is divorced from factuality, and they always have. It corrupts everything round them and the corruption begins within them. Somewhere inside they know that they are liars and that they are imposing compliance to lies.

There are lies subordinates tell to avoid culpability, but they tend to be about specific things—I did not eat the cake, I did not show up late—while these fact-bullies can take charge of whole categories, as when a menacing father insists that his whole family pretend that everything is fine and they adore him. Gaslighting is a collective cultural phenomenon too, and it makes cultures feel crazy the way it does individual victims. That we are supposed to pretend that mass shootings and the epidemic gun death rate have nothing to do with the availability of guns is insane. That there is nothing to the Trump team’s dozens of covert contacts with Russian regime figures during the campaign and the Mueller investigation is a baseless witch hunt is a counterfactual agenda being pushed by sheer aggression from the Republicans and right-wing media and some supposedly left-wing darlings.

“The country is now in a sort of civil war, and part of what is at stake is truth and facts in the form of history, scientific fact, political accountability, and adherence to the law.”

This summer we are once again witnessing the indignation that arises in powerful men when it turns out other people have things to say and that they might be listened to and believed. Congressman Jim Jordan is outraged that nine former wrestlers report that when he was the assistant wrestling coach at Ohio State, he knew but did nothing about their sexual abuse by the team doctor. It’s not a wrestling match he’s likely to win, but he seems to be unable to conceive that he’s not the boss of this story. (He tweeted on July 11 that CNN is contacting former staff and interns and “getting desperate,” as though this thing called reporting was both outlandishly unfamiliar and transgressive—“How can you ever trust such #fakenews?” he concluded.) Defenders of Darla Shine, racist conspiracy-theory-pushing wife of former Fox honcho Bill Shine (now the new White House communications director), claim that she is being smeared by having her own words recirculated. How dare you repeat things that I said! How dare you not let me rewrite what did and did not transpire!

It’s kind of like the Bill Cosby case—in which a surprising number of people seemed to be willing to believe that ten or twenty or thirty or eventually more than fifty women, most of whom were strangers to each other, were lying rather than that their idol was. It seemed to be less about the facts in the case than their conviction that he should be able to outweigh them, the way the person with the mic can shout down the crowd. Feminism, like many other human-rights movements, has been a process of amplifying voices until they can hold their own and of solidarity so that small voices can be cumulatively loud enough to counter the dictators. Thus have so many recent cases—from Fox News CEO Roger Ailes to Harvey Weinstein—been built by many other women coming forward to support the testimony of the woman or women who broke the ice.

In 2014, singer Kesha sued to be released from her recording contract on the grounds that her producer, Dr. Luke, aka Luke Gottwald, had raped and otherwise abused her and that she had almost no creative control over her own music (a year earlier, her fans started a Free Kesha petition). Gottwald and the corporation refused to release her from the contracts she signed in her mid-teens, so there was a trial that brought more attention to the situation—when she lost, she remained stuck with him, hostage to a man she seems to dread and loathe. Now, four years later, he’s suing because “Gottwald’s music career will never recover from the damage she has caused.” By speaking up when his assumption seems to be that a superstar singer with a series of #1 hits would remain voiceless. But also, if you assume that Kesha is telling the truth (and I find her credible), Dr. Luke and his backers are blaming her for what he did, or rather for not keeping it secret. They assume he had a right to impunity, which is a right to do what you like and dictate the reality around it, a right to confront no competing versions, even from the other parties involved.

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Meanwhile, the radio host who groped Taylor Swift at a meet-and-greet and then sued her for saying so and getting him fired (he lost) complains he’s afraid to talk to women (perhaps because talking to a woman and grabbing a woman’s ass are apparently so hard for him to tell apart, a kind of confusion we’re hearing about from many men who are now “afraid to talk to” women). He says says he wants to tell her, “How can you live with yourself? You ruined my life.” That seems to be his way of saying that he was shocked to find that one of the most powerful figures in pop music had a voice and people believed her when she used it. During the trial that may be her greatest performance to date, Swift noted that contrary to accusations and long-established conventions, she had no responsibility to protect her assailant: “I’m not going to let you or your client make me feel in any way that this is my fault. Here we are years later, and I’m being blamed for the unfortunate events of his life that are the product of his decisions—not mine.” She was going after the assumption that no matter what he did, she has to keep life pleasant for him, by keeping her mouth shut.

“The [media] are among the most dishonest human beings on earth. Right? And they sort of made it sound like I have this feud with the intelligence community.” –Donald Trump

Politifact published a timeline of White House positions on Trump’s alleged one-off sexual encounter with Stormy Daniels, a rollercoaster of denials and admissions of things that were denied, and other contradictions. What’s noteworthy was that she signed, just before the election, a standard nondisclosure agreement: a contract to pay a woman to be silent so that a man’s version of reality might prevail. These things often happen when unequal status or menace alone don’t enforce the desired silence; Daniels also reports being threatened by a man who approached her and her child in a parking lot: “That’s a beautiful little girl. It’d be a shame if something happened to her mom.’”

Lies require enforcement. Harvey Weinstein used nondisclosure agreements and armies of lawyers, spies from Mossad, threats to people’s careers and reputations, and the aid of a lot of others at the Weinstein Company and beyond to keep his high-profile victims silent, but he also had help from a society that traditionally silenced and discredited women. Long ago I wrote in my essay “Men Explain Things to Me” that credibility is a basic survival skill; the police have assumed that they have more than the people they target; men have assumed they have more than women. Despite everything going on in electoral politics, we are in era of leveling out who has this precious asset—or perhaps what’s going on in Washington is the backlash. Credibility is not inherent; it’s present in our own priorities and assumptions about who to believe. And those who are silenced beforehand don’t even get a chance at credibility.

More and more I come to see the compulsive, frenetic pace of lies by the president as a manic version of that prerogative of dictating reality. It’s a way of saying, I determine what’s real and you suck it up even if you know it’s bullshit. He has abandoned credibility for dictatorial power. When you’re a star, they let you do it, and the size of your stardom can be measured in how much you can force people to accept—or pretend to accept—contrary to their own intelligence and orientation and ethics. This is, after all, the liar who at CIA headquarters on January 21, 2017, told hundreds of CIA employees—skeptics whose profession is the collection and verification of facts—easily disproved lies about the size of his inauguration and the state of the weather the day before.

He told them, “And the reason you’re my first stop is that as you know I have a running war with the media. They are among the most dishonest human beings on earth. Right? And they sort of made it sound like I have this feud with the intelligence community.” Which he did, since he’d compared them to Nazi Germany a few weeks before, but he tends to praise to their faces those he attacks behind their backs, as he’s just done with British Prime Minister Theresa May (and then denied the earlier statements; the Washington Post’s headline read “Trump denies he said something that he said on a tape that everyone has heard.”). One imagines that he has since childhood never been held accountable; it seems more than possible that after a lifetime of this he’s convinced that he actually dictates reality, or rather that it doesn’t exist, or only exists at his whim, that he is as freefloating in a void of unaccountability as the blimp in his image was in the air over London. That is, that he’s a nihilist.

His lying is sometimes regarded as a distraction or an annoyance, but it is a dangerous thing in itself, and he is himself a product of a system of producing and enforcing lies. This week we saw him lying, again, about the Russian role in making him president and corrupting our election; he surrendered to Putin in public with the latter as the victor in a cyberwar both men insist we pretend did not happen, a war they had perhaps just discussed in secret. Trump also insists that we take Putin’s word over that of US intelligence, the world’s news agencies, the Mueller investigation, and a lot of senators and congresspeople. The thing to remember here about an assault on truth is that it’s an assault.

His followers have had their minds weaponized by decades of Fox News and right-wing pundits promoting conspiracies and denying crucial phenomena, including the valuable role immigrants play in our economy and the urgent reality of human-caused climate change. The country is now in a sort of civil war, and part of what is at stake is truth and facts in the form of history, scientific fact, political accountability, and adherence to the law. In “The Prevention of Literature” George Orwell wrote that, “A totalitarian state is in effect a theocracy, and its ruling caste, in order to keep its position, has to be thought of as infallible. But since, in practice, no one is infallible, it is frequently necessary to rearrange past events in order to show that this or that mistake was not made, or that this or that imaginary triumph actually happened… Totalitarianism demands, in fact, the continuous alteration of the past, and in the long run probably demands a disbelief in the very existence of objective truth.”

The internet has produced its own form of informational relativism. Facebook is now taking heat for its refusal, amid what is supposed to be an informational clean-up, to ban InfoWars—which, among the other conspiracy theories it’s pushed, claimed the Sandy Hook massacre of children was a hoax and the teenage Parkland mass shooting survivors were “crisis actors.” Asked about the continued presence of InfoWars, Facebook News Feed head John Hegeman said, “I think part of the fundamental thing here is that we created Facebook to be a place where different people can have a voice. And different publishers have very different points of view.” That some of them are libelous and destructively false doesn’t seem to faze him (Sandy Hook parents, six of whom are suing InfoWars, have received threats from people who InfoWars directed to believe that the massacre was “a hoax to take away your guns”). This is a consequence of internet companies pretending they’re neutral platforms rather than information organizations with the responsibilities that have always come with that role. This is the result of their desire to serve any product to any customer, as long as it’s profitable.

Meanwhile Safiya Umoja Noble’s new book Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism proposes that one driving force behind Charleston church mass murderer Dylann Roof’s racism was Google. Pacific Standard’s James McWilliams reports in a piece on Noble’s book that Roof did a search on “black on white crime” and was directed to a website by the Council of Conservative Citizens, a white supremacist website promulgating lies. Google owns YouTube, which the Wall Street Journal reported last winter offers recommendations to viewers that “often present divisive, misleading or false content.” Tech critic Zeynep Tufekci noted, their “algorithm seems to have concluded that people are drawn to content that is more extreme than what they started with—or to incendiary content in general,” and it gives them what they want or think they want, whether or not it’s good for them or us or the record. The most powerful corporations on earth have, in other words, concluded that lies are profitable and pursued that profit.

As Hannah Arendt famously said, “The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction (i.e., the reality of experience) and the distinction between true and false (i.e., the standards of thought) no longer exist.” Making those distinctions, doing the work to be clear, is resistance. It consists in part of supporting and reading good news outlets (including the newspapers whose financial basis has been undermined by the internet), and being informed both about the news they report and the historical background to the current crises to be found in books (and in universities, which makes it worth noting that the value of a humanities education is also under attack; one of its values is making people thoughtful sifters of data who are well-grounded in history). It consists of maintaining your capacity to fact-check and sift and evaluate information and your independence of mind. Solidity and steadfastness are key to resistance, and clarity, about who you are and what you believe. Principles are contagious, and though we need direct and dramatic action, the catalytic power of myriad people standing on principle and living by facts matters too. It means holding yourself and those around you to high standards not only of truth but of accuracy.

Good read found on the Lithub