#its ok i hold to the belief that i always end up grateful for the characters i pull

[mintjeru]

still on hiatus but update on xiao rolls bc everyone knows i'm always ready to dish out primos for him

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 8

Word Count: 1879

Warning: trigger - hunting, and demeaning verbal abuse.

A/N thanks again to my beautiful @sillyrabbit81 for your editing and @amberangel112 for your encouragement.

Chapter 8

Henry could not understand why Jessie was still considering going out with this jerk. He huffed at Joe’s words and was pleasantly surprised at Tom’s reaction. Pleased to have someone in his corner, he nuzzled into the young man’s arms. It felt nice, an odd feeling of loss and regret pulled at his soul. He hadn’t seen his nephew in five years, he would be fifteen years old now four years younger than Tom. Memories of their last time together flooded his mind, the feel of his hands running through his fur. Even then he had refused to change, sadly his nephew had never known him in Human form.

The packhouse was large, made of local stone it would be considered menacing to outsiders. But for those invited in, it was a house filled with love. They had found Henry and his nephew Adam just outside their forest line, half-starved, dehydrated and desperate for care. The pack doctor had tended to Henry whilst one of the pack's mothers had shared her milk with the little pup. Adam had captured the mother’s heart and at Henry’s approval had adopted him into the pack. Henry had grieved the loss of his only kin but been so grateful to them. He knew he could not look after the little one, not with his heartbroken in pieces.

Over the next ten years, he had come and gone from the house checking up on Adam, watched as he grew strong, not only physically, but emotionally he had developed into a beautiful soul. Their last time together they had sat just like he was now with Tom. He had curled up next to Adam, his head in his lap, Adams fingers running through his fur. “I wish you could change for me Uncle, I see all the other dads and sons playing together and I love the idea that when I change next year we can run together. Then I can finally talk to you and hear your voice back. But I want to know what you look like, to be able to hug you like I see that others hug their dads.” His face had added to Henry’s grief looking so heartbroken and longingly at him. He had tried at that moment, had attempted to honour his request but his human side was so lost, hidden in pain. He had left the house that day, knowing even if it broke his heart, he needed to let his nephew grow with his new pack and not be held back by him.

Now nestled against Tom he regretted that decision. He heard a chuckle soft and happy. “Well look at you two. I would never have guessed Wolfy could be so comfortable with another human. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone except with me. What’s your secret Tom?” Her bright eyes landed on Tom who had continued to scratch behind Henry’s ears.

“I don’t know Miss Jessie, but I have always loved wolves, well any kind of animal really but especially wolves.”

She seemed thoughtful as she eyed them both making Henry wonder what she had planned. “Tom, are you free tonight? I have a date and I really don’t want to leave Wolfy alone again.” Henry felt Tom stiffen. Wondering what was wrong with the request, he moved his head to look up at the boy.

A brief look of disapproval flashed in his eyes before they softened as he looked down and saw Henry watching him. “Yes, Miss Jessie. I would love to spend more time with this beautiful boy.” Internally he chuckled at Tom’s words, if only he knew he was twelve years older than him.

That afternoon Henry, Jessie and Tom spent out in the garden. Tom seemed to fit beautifully into their friendship group kneeling beside Jessie as they planted new flowers and shrubs where they had pulled up the weeds. Together, Henry dug the holes, Tom placed the plants and held them in place whilst Jessie filled the soil around them. Henry enjoyed hearing the light conversation between his Mate and his new friend until it became heavier. “So, Tom, when did you begin to love wolves? I know your father traps them, so I’m interested as to why you don’t follow his belief.”

Tom continued to work, as a gentle hum was heard working up from his throat. “I know why Dad does it, although I don’t think he is correct. He blames the wolves for his loss of cattle, but I haven’t seen that many around. The wild dogs are more to blame but he won't listen. They have a group that meet purely to discuss the wolf problem, but in my whole life, the only large group I have seen was back when I was four. It’s the first and last time Dad allowed me to come to a hunting party. Mom was horrified that he was taking me, but I wanted so much to be with Dad, and he wanted me to be just like him.”

Henry shuddered as the boy spoke as if by some force of nature, he knew that he was about to hear what had happened that day. He also sensed the grief radiating off the boy, wanting to calm him he pushed his body into Tom’s side. Nuzzling his head as if to say, “It's ok, I’m here for you.” Tom let out a heavy chuckle as if he had heard Henry’s voice.

He sat back looking down at Henry as he spoke, “Thanks Wolfy, you would think that I would not remember something that happened that long ago, but it's imprinted in my mind. They had been tracking a pack that had only just entered the area, convinced the rest of the ranchers that they were a risk to our lively hood, that we couldn’t let them nest here. So, the best of their marksman left, when we found them all, sitting around a tree, curled up sleeping, all I wanted to do was go play with the cuddly animals. Dad kept pulling me back holding me still and quiet. I didn’t understand until the loud bangs began.”

Tom’s voice wobbled at this point and Jessie who had been silent up till this time also came closer. She pulled him into her side, her arm encasing his thin body as his shoulders began to shake. “I started screaming as I saw a single wolf with a baby on its back running away, Dad aimed for it but I managed to push the barrel up making him miss. I got the thrashing of my life that night. I couldn’t sit for a week, but it was worth it. I was never allowed to come again after that, not that I wanted to. It took a while, but Dad eventually began to trust me enough to check the traps. I am glad too because it meant I could help this fella.”

Jessie held the boy as his sobs subsided. Henry was trying to hold his anger in, these were the people who had destroyed his family. And yet this one boy had not only saved him once but twice, his gratitude was the only thing stopping him from wanting to go rip the throats out of the group. Ignorance and fear were the driving forces that ended his family, if only they knew the wolves would only ever take a sick animal, and sometimes the young, never the strength of the herd. They would never kill without need. But the wild dogs he had seen were giving us a bad name.

Jessie's voice interrupted his thoughts, the softness not hiding the grief in her own. “Was that near here Tom?” How did Jessie know?

“Yes, Miss Jessie, by the tall tree in the middle of the forest.”

She silently picked up the tools, both animal and human watching her, wondering what she was thinking. Sighing she stood up, “Come, it’s getting dark and I need to get ready for this date.” She walked silently back into the house. The boy and the wolf looked at each other before both followed.

Jessie fixed dinner for Tom and Henry then left to dress, leaving the pair to their own devices. Tom seemed quiet after revealing his early childhood trauma and Henry was eager to help calm the boy. After eating, he plodded into the living room, jumped up on the couch and yipped in Tom’s direction. Chuckling, Tom responded, “You want to watch some TV boy?” Nuzzling the remote, he yipped eagerly hoping to distract the boy from his thoughts.

Tom settled next to him and picked up the remote, they settled on watching a rerun of M.A.S.H before they both heard the clicking of heels and the rapping of knuckles on the front door. Open-mouthed both Henry and Tom sat dumbstruck as Jessie walked down the stairs in a light yellow sundress her dark hair flowing softly twisted into waves. “Wow Miss Jessie, you look amazing” got in first before Henry followed with his eager Yip. Giggling Jessie smiled softly at them both, “Ok I won't be out late, but even so, don’t get up to any mischief”

This caused both Henry and Tom to laugh, one sounding more like a series of yips. The door opened and closed and Jessie was gone. Together the two sat, watched movies and shared some popcorn that Tom had found in the pantry. Just as the end of a Witcher episode finished they heard yelling coming from outside. “I don’t give a dam Boyd, you had no right to hit that poor man, It was an accident.” The front door opened as Jessie stormed inside, the front of her dress had a brown stain down the side of her skirt.

Next Boyd came crashing into the room his face red as he reached out to grab Jessie's arm, this caused Henry to jump into action his snarl reaching the ears of the big man before he saw the wolf racing towards him. Jumping back almost stumbling over the kitchen chair Boyd’s face grew hotter, “Keep that mutt controlled Jessie otherwise I’ll control him for you with my shot Gun.”

The air went still as Henry felt Jessies and Tom's hands on him, “That is enough Boyd Hatfield, you are no longer welcome in this home. Get. Out!” Surprise filled Boyd’s face as he not only recognised Tom but registered his marching orders. Menace replaced the look of surprise, “Listen here little girl, you better watch that attitude of yours. I’ll allow you to cool off but we are not finished talking, and if you value the life of that mutt you will do as your told.” Punctuating the statement with a nod of his head he turned and strolled out the door.

Heart pounding he turned looking up at Jessie who seemed to have lost her speech, her face pale and her hands shaking. Tom moved swiftly pulling her into his arms as she began to cry, frustrated that it wasn’t his arms holding her, Henry pushed his body against her to show he was there, but inside he was furious. That man had threatened not just himself but Jessie, but he had to focus on her right now, she was more important no matter how much he wanted to go after him.

Chapter 9

[runephoenix6769]

“What is with the Blake / Yang hate this week? Folks seem particularly fired up.” I asked this question on a forum because of something I’ve noticed the last few days on discussions about Blake and Yang/Bumbleby/shipping in general. I keep seeing the same answers.  “It ruins the team’s dynamic.”

Welp, I’m pretty certain none of those people would say that Raven/Tai and Tai/Summer ruined the team’s dynamic. Or that Ren and Nora are currently  ruining the team’s dynamic.  What is this holy than thou crusading to protect the sanctity of the team dynamic? Rwby has always been first and foremost about interpersonal relationships. It’s what drives the actual plot. Character growth, failing relationships/friendships. How they change over time, either to grow or crumble. 

“It’s being shoehorned in, for fanwank.” How? How is it being shoehorned in? Give me a narrative breakdown as to where/how/when this occurs? Compare it to the Sun/Blake narrative and show me the glaring differences between the Yang/Blake narrative to prove that bumbleby was never planned yet blacksun was?  (Sidenote. Anyone that has been asked to do this on the forum has yet to do it.)

“Yang showed interest in boys.”“ Yes, yes she passed comment once. In vol 1 episode 1. 8 VOLUMES AGO. She has shown not a lick of interest in guys since. Its almost as if she’s like any normal 17 year old girl who is growing into adulthood and figuring herself out, who might be realising her interest in Blake isn’t strictly platonic and is trying to navigate that whilst also grappling with what that means with regards to their friendship. And dealing with an over arching situation that is, ya know, potentially the end of the world as they know it.  It’s about two years in universe, right? Which is about right of an amount of time for what its happening between them to play out. It only feels like longer to the audience because, well, its taken 8/9 years to tell the story up until that point. 

“The Fans are too loud/vocal/come on too strong.” Ok, this one I agree with, we are loud and vocal and that might come across as coming on strong  (here’s a huge) BUT, there is actually a genuine explanation for why it seems that way.   If you really think about it, objectively. 

Hear me out.  Fans are excited about the potential representation we don't otherwise usually get in media. I mean, if you have 10,000 pieces of media and only ONE of them represents lgbtq people, of course we’re gonna be excited and talk about the ONE quite a bit with others who are like us. This might also be the first time we’ve seen anything like this, or seen ourselves represented in a somewhat positive light. It stands to reason that the other 9999 pieces aren't going to hold our attention as much, esp if its the same hetero romance played out a bajillion times before, right? I mean, if you have a group of people who are constantly represented in the 9999 other shows, their voices are going to spread thinner, right? They aren’t going to be gathered all on one place, talking about the same thing because there are 9999 other choices to connect them to other people. They aren’t going to care as much if their straight ship happens/doesnt happen 

“Hey, I can move onto another piece of media that is churned out by the status quo. No big deal.”

Hetero romances are ten a penny. Flick through netflix, hulu, crunchy roll etc.  Where as if you have a group of people who are only represented in ONE show out of the 10,000 those people are going to gather in one place to connect with others and its only going to seem like they are louder due to the densely packed space.  These same people have been majority silent about the other 9999 pieces of media as their voice isn't usually represented in a positive light - being queer characters are usually brutally murdered or sidelined. (Thankyou Hays Code.)- or not even represented at all. (Bury Your Gays is a trope for a reason, folks.) And we are NEVER the titular characters. We’ve been living on crumbs and subtext for decades! Not to mention showrunners who actively queerbait the hell out of us for ratings and viewership. The almighty Pink Pound as its often referred to in business. “But why do they have to make them gay?” You’re not made gay, you’re born gay. It just takes longer for some people to realise than others. It can be a gradual realisation. And this is quite possibly the case with Yang/Blake, slowly coming to realise their own burgeoning sexualities and attraction to each other.

”Why do they have to be gay?” They don't need a reason to be queer! They just are! Queerness is only a part of a person, not their everything. It’s actually quite refreshing to see Yang/Blake being portrayed as much more than their potential sexuality.  Ask yourself, ‘Why does a character have to be straight? And why doesn’t a straight character have to constantly reaffirm their sexuality? Why is ‘straightness’ assumed by default?’ Heteronormativity, is something that has been perpetuated by decades of media. (helped by the Hays Code with its out of date moral code. To be other is to be punished within the narrative.) That straight is the default setting. It’s not! We exist! Everywhere! We always have and we are going to talk to each other about it when we see a glimpse of ourselves represented in what has been a relative Sahara Desert when it comes to queer content were we are not villainised.   “The romance is detracting from the plot.” Two seconds ago, people were claiming that the romance was none existent. Which is it? But Nora and Ren’s romance that is being held up as a mirror to bumbleby is fine? That Jaune relentlessly pursuing Weiss was perfectly ok. Neptune openly hitting on female characters is fine. 

“I don’t have a problem with LGBT. I just don’t want it forced down my throat.” Again, out of 10,000 pieces of media, this is just ONE show. Nobody is forcing anyone to watch it or participate.  Queer people have had to stomach literal 100′s of years of straight media forced upon them. Since the very conception of the written word and narrative storytelling. In plays, theatre, art, music, tv, film, on billboards, advertising, in places of education and learning etc etc. Queer people are bombarded with it whilst also being surrounded by negativity towards queerness. 

“They are shoving it down my throat!” part two Is hand holding, compassion and expressing concern for another person and comforting them somehow offensive? Renora kissed, not a problem. Arkos kissed, not a problem. Show me in the sand where the line is drawn. What is the difference? Please explain this to me? Why is the expression of queerness somehow offensive? Is this because decades of media have perpetuated the false idea that all queer people are sex crazed perverts? That you’ve been groomed into thinking that queer sexuality is only based in the act of sex itself? That queer sexuality couldn’t possibly be similar to heterosexuality in its expression?

That it couldn’t possibly be about attraction, emotional, mental and maybe one day blossom into physical between two consenting adults, a pure expression of love the exact same as heterosexuality. 

That some how queer love stems from some sort of deviancy or mental health issue. That queer people are some how bad or evil, and therefore their expression of affection is wrong? Oh, I wonder where those beliefs have possibly stemmed from?  “Why are they in my face?” part three.  50% of of the titular cast are potentially queer. Blake and Yang. But if you look at the overall cast ensemble that runs at minimum 16 any given volume, that’s a measly 12.5% (prolly a lot smaller if you actually counted the whole cast that appears in rotation each volume) Also, someone did the math. Blake - a titular character- actually has less spoken lines that Jaune. ffs. B&Y spent neatly a whole two volumes of 8 apart. 25% of the narrative as it stands on entirely different continents. 

I fail to see how it being in someone’s face could be the case.

  “I just don't see it!”

That’s ok and perfectly valid But listen when people who have lived this experience are telling you that their experience is being portrayed on the screen. That they see themselves being represented.  OK, This completely got away from me. In conclusion. They are more straight people than queer people and media often reflects that.   We are usually the silent minority, we are sick of it but we are used to it and we are very excited that things seem to be finally changing.

It’s two characters in an large cast in ONE show out of 10,000. Its a piece of media that, for a change, hasn’t been 100% curated for straight people.  We are often not allowed to play in the sand box and if we are, we’re told to play with the broken toys, be grateful and quiet. So when we are given a sandbox to play in with new unbroken toys, we are gonna dog pile in there and make a ruckas, calling our friends over. What I’m trying to say is, it’s gonna get rowdy.  and here’s something to think about.  “When you are used to privilege, equality feels like deprivation.”  

[canmom]

i can relate so much to your art struggles, you are really not alone in this 😭

i think ultimately it comes down to the eye/visual library becoming much more advanced and much quicker compared to what youre actually capable of replicating from your imagination, so almost all of the time your skills have to catch up to the high standard your eye sets, which is soo frustrating!!

(and im a mid-tier artist at BEST lol, so not sure if its just a thing you grow out of after you learn all of the anatomy/light/perscpective/color theory/etc.?? be free to update me on that if you make it past fundamentals hell :P)

so youre kinda always setting yourself up for falling short of your own expectations.... in the end i suppose one way of dealing with this is just to remind yourself that youre learning, and being ok with making "bad" things but also tell yourself that not everyone sees the same flaws in something that you see so the thing you consider "bad" is not necessarily in the eyes of another person!

yeah it's tough. i feel like i have no real idea how to assess what's good about my work, i can usually only see the flaws in it, so i'm grateful when people tell me it's good but i also feel like... they probably wouldn't feel that way if it weren't for our existing personal connection ig. i felt kinda good seeing all those decent pieces in pixiv thumbnails but then i clicked onto the front page and saw a lot of considerably more confident and accomplished pieces... which of course, they're only gonna put the best stuff on the front page!

my main barrier is simply not making enough stuff i think. i don't think i'm fundamentally off in my approach, i have a decent and gradually improving ability to eyeball perspective and create good shapes and keep good proportions and anatomy and so on, my lines are gradually getting cleaner, but there's a sort of indescribable element of confidence that comes with just cranking out enough pictures and brings all the elements together. and that only comes from muscle memory and practice.

some part of me has this naive belief that as soon as i get on stimulant medication (hopefully before the end of this year) i'll be able to start practising art like it's a fulltime job (while also holding down a fulltime job?)... but right now i know for certain i'm not drawing enough and i just can't figure out how to get myself to "draw, antonio, draw and do not waste time", like i always love it when i'm doing it but it's just such a barrier to start each day, gahh.

like i need to do more of everything: more fun pieces to develop my feeling what i enjoy and want to create in the long run, more drawing from life/photos, more studies of artists i admire...

anyway i'll stop going on. good luck anon, may we both reach the place we desire...

[oflgtfol]

very strange how people see din losing literally everything as like a necessary step for him to like. “progress” or whatever. ok hold on this isnt making sense when i try to keep it vague and general

like season 2 ended with him literally losing everything. he lost his kid first and foremost but he also lost his home, his religion, his identity, his everyday possessions, like literally everything

and people like. cheer this on? they say thats a good thing that happened to him so that he can like. ~open up~ and like. i dont even know. be a “normal person” which is just so. idk. it doesnt sit right with me

like the helmet is the most grating thing here. the way he took his helmet off at the end of s2 was only ever tied with tragedy and an immense sense of loss. both of his personal identity, culture, religion, and also his son. but people look at that and say “yay! now he should take his helmet off more often! hes finally making progress!” and its like. for what???? how is that progress when both scenes were totally fucking devastating for him. and then people act like once he becomes mand’alor he’s gonna take his helmet off willy nilly just to smile for politics and they act like that’s a GOOD thing which is just so. annoying. like how is compromising your culture and religion for the sake of appeasing others’ sense of ~politeness~ a good thing lmfao??? especially when it isnt even something offensive to others like its literally just something he wears on his own body. if he does politics with non-mandos and they have the gall to find his manner of dress offensive just because he cant give fake polite smiles, like if they cant respect that one most neutral thing about your culture, then why would they ever be somebody you would want to conduct business with lmfao???

just. in general, this weird way people see din’s losses at the end of s2, particularly the things culturally important to him, as some sort of progress towards “adopting new beliefs” is just so. irritating to me. especially bc as i have always said, it’s not like he had ever expressed that he’s dissatisfied by his culture. so the loss of those things would not be liberating to him, only traumatic. to cheer that on as some sort of character development is so fucking strange

[randomingoftherandomness]

So I just realized we share another fandom!! Anyway, I have a rather angsts Booker prompt that I think only you can do justice and it’s long, so I’m so sorry: (1) so the team are still on the splits, maybe a couple years into Booker’s exile, and Nike asks Copley to keep an eye on Booker. Being ex-CIA, he has a camera out in Booker’s apartment but Booker only glances at it, salutes with his bottle, proceeds to get drunk. Then he lays out an envelope then spends the night in the bathroom.

Hello! First up, are you OK? 👀 Coz like. If you wanna talk it out, my messages are always open to friends, yeah?

Also, a big super thank you for the prompt and for your belief that I can do it justice. Am very touched and very grateful. Gonna keep the other parts and the fill under the cut coz there’s four parts to this prompt and I am living for the specificity 😍 Hope you like this!

Please do note that I am not of the medical profession. If you have feelings of harming yourself or of suicidal thoughts, please reach out and talk to someone. I know it gets repeated a lot, but, You are not alone. You are so loved. You are precious. And I send you nothing but love. If anyone ever needs an ear, please know that you can always drop me a line x

[[ TW: Suicide ]]

(2) This continues for a while until Copley tells Nike about it, and she mentions it and the gang watch the footage. Every night, Booker gets drunk, lays out a large envelope on the kitchen table then spends the night in the bathroom. He looks like absolute hell when he comes out every morning. After a couple watches joe suddenly starts cursing and rushes out the door, Nicky right behind him. Much travel later, they get to Booker’s apartment and Joe immediately goes to the bath.

(3) He barges in and there’s Booker in the tub, in his underwear, some kind of metal tube gauged in his arm as he bleeds out over and over every night, but the worst part is how *organized* he is: all the blood is is carefully in the tub, his clothes folded neatly, the apartment is spotless, money for a cremation and a will to have him buried at the family plot on the table and letters to be mailed to Copley to get to the others. He does this Every. Night. As Penance.

(4, long prompt is long, sorry) but the worst part is how *organized* he is: all the blood is is carefully in the tub, his clothes folded neatly, the apartment is spotless, money for a cremation and a will to have him buried at the family plot on the table and letters to be mailed to Copley to get to the others. Just, all the broken and depressed Booker and Joe still being angry as hell but mourning for his friend and what he’s going thru? Do your worst, you beautiful, wondrous person, you.

---

There was a too smooth hesitation in the way Copley asks for her attention and it immediately sparks suspicion in Nile when he casually directs her to the console on the far end of the office.

Far enough from the rest of her family that they would not be able to overhear, or at least will have to work to listen in, on whatever he was about to tell her.

She waits him out. Calmly holding her ground as he casts her a calculating gaze, unfolding the tablet and powering it on. “You know that thing you asked me to do? The one about Paris?” He looks down onto the screen before turning it to her. “I think you should see this.”

Suspicion bleeds into curiosity now because the last update Copley had given her about Booker was that the man was doing his best to drink himself to death. Was he successful? Wouldn’t his liver just heal itself if it was damaged?

The video plays without any audio. Booker crosses the screen, pausing at the kitchen sink for a moment, hands braced and head bowed like a man broken. He stays like that for a good minute before he pushes off, rummaging through the topmost drawer and pulls out an unmarked envelope. Placing it on the dining table, he picks up a fresh bottle of whiskey from its crate, looking up directly into the camera, saluting with two fingers before moving into the bathroom and closing the door.

“He has been doing this for months now and it seems like it’s something he has been doing even before we started our surveillance,” Copley says. Nile checks through the folder of recordings. “Every night it’s the same thing. He places that envelope on the table and goes into the bathroom until morning comes. He comes out, gets drunk and repeats. I’ve put in inquiries to the landlord if there are any disturbances and so far nothing. We don’t have a camera in the bathroom so we don’t know what he’s doing in there every night.”

Nile taps on a random one and watches the practised way Booker braces himself as if trying to gather courage for something big that he has to do.

“I’ll talk to the rest about it.”

She waits until they’re all settled with debriefing to broach the subject. Andy reacts with a tinge of worry in her brow that Nile has learnt to pick up on. “I’m sorry. I know you guys said he can’t contact us. But I just kept thinking about it and...”

“And you thought you wanted to check in on our brother,” Nicky finishes for her. Reaching out to pat her hand, she smiles weakly when he nods sagely. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Nile. You care.”

Andy picks up the tablet, watching the recording before passing it off to Joe. “Booker’s been doing this for months?”

“Longer, if Copley’s right about it.”

“Shit!” Joe curses in a rapid stream of languages that Nile could barely keep up with. Nicky, however, can.

“Are you sure?” He stands, the chair scraping on the floor as it is pushed back, eyes gone a pale steely grey. “Yusuf-”

“I’m sure,” Joe says, meeting their eyes in turn. “I hope I’m wrong.”

“What? What are you hoping to be wrong about?” Nile asks, dread slowly creeping up her spine. Andy stands too still next to her when Joe’s eyes flicker back onto where the video footage of Booker is saluting the camera.

“I hope I’m wrong,” Joe says slowly. “But I think he’s dying every night in his bathroom.”

They catch the next flight out to Charles de Gaulle, wasting no time in between the horrible realisation and packing up their most bare essentials. Copley seems to know their intentions because he arranges for a car to be ready for them with preprogrammed directions to Booker’s flat. The drive into Paris in the summer twilight is quiet. No one daring to speak more than the necessary need to point out exits, turnings and road signs.

God, she prays they’re all wrong. Nile keeps praying even as they steal past the front door under the shadows of night. Keeps on clinging to that hope of divine intervention even when they prepare to pick the lock of Booker’s flat, only to find it open.

Andy leads them in, cutting through the space with strong strides until she pushes through into the bathroom and something stops her in her tracks.

Joe and Nicky sweep past her, causing her to stumble back a little. Nile catches her, still not processing what she is seeing. Booker’s clothes were placed in a neatly folded pile on the stool by the door. The man himself is out cold. Looking for all the world to be content to spend the night naked in an unheated bathroom. A metal tube sticks out amongst the blood in the tub and it takes a second for her to realise that the tube is protruding from Booker’s limp arm.

“Oh,” She says.

Andy moves then, going to help pull Booker out of the tub and lay him out on the floor. He stirs, eyes blinking up at the ceiling before rolling back. Nicky has pulled out the tube, letting it clatter on the tiles, placing his hand over the gaping hole. “It’s not closing.”

“Find out if he has any clean towels. Something,” Joe instructs, keeping his fingers on Booker’s pulse point. Ever since Andy’s newly regained mortality, they’ve all been brushing up on the latest first aid measures to the point that Nicky has been talking about going to medical school.

Spilling back into the kitchen, she digs through the drawers for fresh tea towels when her eyes spy the unmarked envelope sitting innocently amongst the worn wood of the tabletop. Unable to resist, Nile tears it open. Instructions first greet her written in French. She has enough time to learn now that she can understand that Booker was instructing whoever found him to take the money enclosed and use it for a simple funeral and that the letters inside must be mailed to Copley. He ends it with an apology for inconveniences caused.

Inconveniences caused. As if this were a simple grievance. As if to whoever found his self-exsanguinated corpse, the trauma could be dealt with by an apology for inconveniences caused.

“He planned this,” Nile says in sick horror when she walks back into the bathroom. In the dim yellow light from the lone bulb, the blood in the tub and all over the tiles look almost black. “He has been doing this every night for God knows how long.”

Joe meets her gaze. “I had hoped I was wrong.”

They wait until the gaping hole begins to heal. All of them breathing a sigh of relief they did not know they were holding. Only then does Andy come close to cradle his head on her lap. Between the three of them, they get Booker cleaned up as best as they could, dressed and into his own bed.

“I’ll stay here with him,” Andy says, already undoing the laces of her boots. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

“We’re all staying here with him,” Nicky chimes in before she can say anything else. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The bed was far too small for three full grown men and two women to pile onto, but they make it work with Booker safely ensconced in the middle. Andy covers his right, the lovers take either side of his hips, leaving Nile to tuck herself on a shared pillow with Booker's head. There is an unspoken need to anchor themselves on their wayward brethren. Joe and Nicky murmur to each other in soft streams of reassurance, but she catches Andy's gaze and there is a deep sadness that was heavy with regret. How they all fall asleep, she does not know, but when she opens her eyes, it's in the liminal silvery-blue of night turning into day.

"It's not a century." She hears.

"I know," Andy answers in barely a whisper. "I know."

"It was meant to be penance," Booker's tired voice fills the small space between them. "I--"

"Are a coward," Joe interrupts. Nile gives up feigning sleep. Instantly moving to be at the ready if there would be an altercation. Joe's eyes are a firebrand of heated emotions. Crawling up until he cradles Booker's cheeks between his hands. "A coward and a selfish fool."

"I know," Booker whispers, breath hitching around a sob. "I know."

Joe presses their brows together, blinking rapidly at the tears that stream down his face. "But you're my brother and I love you. This is not a world I want to be in without you. Not like this."

Booker whimpers, hand not holding on to Andy's goes to touch Joe by the nape. Nile leans in then, pressing her cheek against strong arms that move to wrap her in a hug. She feels the bed move and the shifting of the air when Andy and Nicky come to join in on their embrace. There is still so much healing to be done and Booker obviously needs more than just their forgiveness now. She doesn't know how they'll come out of this or what shape their family will take. But she has faith that whatever that will be, they'll face it together.

[dandivinity]

Madokannon: Religious Symbolism in Madoka Magica

If there’s one word I’d use to describe the show, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica, it would be deceptive. If you’re wondering how a cute Sailor Moon rip-off with even brighter colors and a moe art-style is deceptive, congrats, you fell for the deception. As the series continues, it becomes clear that the show is not a cut-and-dry monster of the week where good always triumphs. Rather it is a pastel-colored Faustian bargain where even the best intentions can lead to dire consequences. In the end it is only through the titular characters unshakeable hope and faith and no small amount of divine intervention that the series reaches it’s bitter sweet conclusion. This is obvious upon a first viewing. What is less obvious is the nature that this divine intervention takes. While the show occasionally makes direct connections to Christianity, It seems to me that the theology implemented is Buddhist through and through complete with Four noble truths, samsara, vile rebirth, and an allegory of the bodhisattva Kannon. 

Let’s start with the basis of the show, the wishes. This is one of Madoka’s most prominent aspects and the largest concern from the beginning of the series before the villain’s true underpinnings are revealed. For those of you not familiar, 1). Why are you reading this? And 2). The set-up of the Madoka,  like most magical girl anime, involves a cute animal mascot offering the girls magical powers in order to fight monsters. What makes this set up unique however is that the oh so cute cat-bunny-thing known as Kyubey also offers the girls one wish as an incentive so that they would accept it’s “contract”. Now the use of the word “contract” is an obvious red flag meant to alert us to the Faustian nature of the deal. And yes, the agreement comes with several hidden clauses that Kyubey conveniently leaves out such as the fact that becoming a magical girl involves having your soul removed from your body and placed into a gem because it’s “easier to protect”. But Kyubey’s not exactly stealing it like a Christian devil would. More importantly than the hidden clauses though, is the wishes themselves.

Now stories of the devil tempting people with promises of wealth or power are quite common in Western literature, as are tales of djinn or monkey paws providing wishes that always go wrong in Near Eastern lit. But what’s extraordinary about Madoka is that for the most part the wishes the girls grant are simple in nature and rather generous. Our main focus point, and the only wish we see pursued from beginning to end in chronological order is that of Sayaka Miki. Sayaka is established to be crushing on a boy who was a former violin prodigy before a car accident left him paralyzed with no hope of playing ever again. Sayaka wishes for him to be healed, and just like that, it’s done. 

The boy does not relapse, nor does he lead into another accident. He simply starts a miraculous yet slow path to recovery, until the series finale where he is shown without crutches and playing beautifully for a wide audience. The problem? Well as pointed out before Sayaka even makes the wish, she’s wasn’t actually doing it for him: she was on an unconscious level hoping that he’d be forever grateful to her. Does she hold this over him? No. Does he reject her? No. She simply doesn’t ask. Sayaka is too busy with her new responsibilities and ashamed of what she has become to ask. 

And frankly the importance of Kyosuke in Sayaka’s fall is largely overstated by the fanbase. Yes, he’s a large factor but even more so than wanting to heal him or his gratitude, Sayaka wants to be a hero. This is heightened when their magical mentor dies within the first three episodes. Sayaka now feels like it’s her responsibility to protect her city as no one else will. Unfortunately, she’s simply not as strong as her former mentor or the new morally unsound magical girls that seeks to dispose of her (both Kyoko and Homura). This is really what leads to Sayaka’s downward spiral as she comments, “The world doesn’t need a magical girl who can’t even kill a witch”. Sayaka wants to be a hero, and she wants to get the guy and she gets neither. Her desires, both fulfilled and unfulfilled, all lead to her suffering. This is the First Noble Truth of Buddhism. 

I realize this isn’t the most convincing argument on its own but let’s zoom out a bit here. What is desire if not earthly attachments? Attachment and inability to let go of attachment is a concept found in nearly all the wishes in the show. It doesn’t matter if it’s Sayaka’s wishing for her friend’s health, Mami literally trying to cling to life, or Kyoko (in the most directly religious moment in the show) wishing that people would come to her father’s sermons so that her family could have enough to eat. All of these desires are moral in some way and yet they are still desires. More importantly, they all involve a longing for what once was, and are attempts to return things to how they were rather than moving on. This inability to let go is characterized not just in the wishes but in the reason they’re implemented in the first place. 

When Kyubey finally explains why they knowingly cause suffering to countless adolescent girls throughout time, they explain it’s to harvest enough renewable energy from the emotions of magical girls to stave off the entropy of the universe. The whole process is rather convoluted and -let’s face it- an excuse to deconstruct magical girl tropes, but that doesn’t change the fact that preventing the heat death of the universe is still Kyubey’s number one goal. That combined with their inability to truly understand the suffering they’re causing has caused some of the community to question their villain status or at least say they’re a villain with a just cause. And while postponing the heat death of the universe may be noble in the long run, it is a literal fight against the impermanence of the universe. A fight that we know from Buddhism is doomed to only lead to personal trauma in the face of inevitability of a changing world. But it is this fight against impermanence that kyubey embodies so well, and one that is baked into the wish-based magical girl system they run. 

Ok, enough beating around the bush. It’s time to talk about Homura. After spending most of the show as a mysterious red-herring villain that knows far too much, Homura finally gets an episode dedicated to her near the end of the show where it’s revealed she’s a time traveller who restarted the timeline over and over again in order to make her wish come true; to be able to save Madoka. Specifically  Homura has to replay the same month over and over again until she can succeed in saving Madoka’s life and cannot escape until this goal is reached.  This obsession leads to a very literal samsara, by repeating the timeline again and again Homura is actively choosing to trap herself in endless cycles of suffering, death, and rebirth all because of her attachment to the mortal world. Through this process we can see Homura fall apart becoming more and more monstrous in her single-minded focus to save Madoka at the expense of everything else. By the time she arrives at our main timeline that the rest of the show takes place in, Homura is comparable to a hungry ghost. She’s directly accused of walking through the world as if dead, unable to feel anything except for the desire that damned her in the first place, her obsession with Madoka. When even this too seems lost, she nearly becomes a witch. 

In Mahayana Buddhism, rebirth on earth is not the worst thing that can happen after one’s death. If one leads a sufficiently desperate life they can be reborn as an animal, hungry ghost, or in hell. This is where Madoka’s witches come from. Perhaps the most tragic twist in Madoka Magica is that if a magical girl falls into despair (usually due to her wish’s inability to make her happy), her soul gem will transform into a grief seed which then becomes one of the monsters they fight. These nightmare collage monsters have new names separate from their old identities and live in pocket dimensions where they lure people in. These pocket dimensions often in someway manifests the desires of their old lives being filled with sweets, TVs, or (in Sayaka’s case) violinists. Interestingly, when Sayaka first dies and is reborn as the witch Octavia in a train station, her labyrinth is also full of railroad tracks. She relocates to a concert hall and the labyrinth follows suit, but train wheels remain despite having no apparent bearing on her previous life. This could be a reference to Buddhist beliefs about your final thoughts and which direction you look when you die having bearing on which realm you’ll be reborn into. 

Homura’s obsession in contrasted by Madoka’s ability to let go. Madoka’s final wish and subsequent ascension has often been compared to Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross, and rightfully so. Madoka’s wish to become a cosmic force that can take on all the despair of magical girls before they become witches at the cost of her own mortal life has many strong parallels to Jesus suffering on the cross to redeem humanity. However that idea only works if Jesus is suffering. Madoka is stated to be taking the grief of every magical girl who ever became a witch onto herself and we even see a far future version of her becoming a witch large enough to destroy the world. But before it does it is shot down by another version of a truly ascended Madoka in a white dress. This version states paradoxically that since her wish applies to all magical girls that would become witches, that includes herself. The fluidity of time and direct denial of the necessity of suffering or sacrifice are at odds with Orthodox Chriastianity, or at least its perception of Jesus. Rather I argue that the way Madoka saves all the magical girls, her subsequent erasure from existence, and even such mundane symbols such as the white dress all link her closer to the Bodhisattva, Kannon. 

Let’s take a closer look at the scene where we see Madoka actually ascends and manifests to relieve the potential witches of their grief. We see Madoka split herself into thousands shafts of light, all of which appear above different suffering magical girls in different places and time periods. And above all of them Madoka appears, she touches their corrupted soul gems which are then purified before shattering, allowing the magical girls to die in peace. A rather sad ending, but one that’s better than rebirth as a witch, which we already identified as equivalent to the hell realm. So while it is unclear where the magical girls are going to go after they die (or even if they go anywhere at all as we just saw the gems holding their souls shatter, possibly destroying them), we can know that Madoka is saving them from a worse rebirth. This directly parallels miracle tales that surround the Bodhisattva Kannon, especially in her Chinese incarnation as the white-robed Guanyin. 

Kannon is the primary example of Bodhisattva or one who has put off Budhahood to aid those still on earth. Kannon in particular swears to never ascend until all living things have been freed of samsara. She’s often depicted as having 11 heads and a thousand arms to better reach all those suffering in the world at once, like how Madoka splits herself into a myriad of forms. Many of these tales have devotees of Guanyin spared from tragic fates such as beheadings or shipwrecks. However a few, adapt these stories to instead refer to a more metaphorical salvation, especially in the pure land tradition popular in Japan which then says that anyone who calls out to Kannon on the verge of their death will be still die and be reborn to the pure land rather than wherever else they were supposed to reincarnate. Madoka’s god form even highly resembles the Chinese incarnation, Guanyin. Wikipedia states, “Guanyin is generally portrayed as a young woman wearing a flowing white robe, and usually also necklaces symbolic of Indian or Chinese royalty. In her left hand is a jar containing pure water, and the right holds a willow branch.” While we never see Madoka with any water; the flowing white dress, red gems along her collar bone, and branch-like bow (though on that seems to be more of a sakura branch) all bring to mind Guanyin.

Finally Madoka’s ascension ends with her body dissolving into glimmers of light as she explains how no one will remember her, but she’ll still be there. This dissolution of the her spiritual body is a visual symbol of ego-death. Madoka recreates a word where she does not exist, and had never existed, yet still manifests as a concept and virtuous force that leads others to salvation rather than as a sentient entity. This is the Nirvana. Madoka hadn’t just ascended to godhood, she had surpassed it and achieved nothingness, as her buddha nature radiates throughout the world, ultimately changing it into something better. This is the paradox of Buddhism and the goal of any buddhist practitioner, to achieve an inner peace so strong you become a part of the universe like madoka had. And the new world she created was better for it. 

That is at least until the show decided to  make a movie sequel and trick madoka into descending. At that point she stops acting as a Buddha and instead as Pistis Sophia in line with the obscure belief system of 2nd century Gnostics. But that will be a conversation for another time. 

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 24: Forever

University Student / Vampire!Reader x Teacher / Priest!Namjoon

Warnings: Blaphemy kink, sex in a classroom, sex in a church, questioning faith, biting, blood play, Vampirism, angst, smut, multiple partners, voyerism, no condom (all gifts are better wrapped), male masturbation, stepping on genitalia, wet dreams, death mention (let me know if I should add others)

Citrus Scale: Buddha’s Hand

When one's will is stripped away, oftentimes the outcome will be rebellion. A direct or passive fight against their oppressor(s) in one way or another in order to regain their sense of freedom. In this specific case, it was the denial of a dream college to follow their parent's ideal of being a servant of their Lord that one was not exactly loyal to. More like questioning instead of lack of belief. However complicated one's relationship with His Holiness may have been, the rebellion of not being able to go to the school of their choice led to late parties with non stop drinking and laughter that sometimes turned into tears. Such parties and celebrations of indulgence were against the rules, of course.

As it was a Friday, one snuck out of a white marble dormitory in clothing fit for Mary Magdalene as it was skimpy and sheer and perfectly fit for a party bound Harlot. All of this under a casual black coat due to recent rain and to get under the radar of any of the nuns and priests who asked where a young being was going so late. If spoken response was needed, the reply would be something forgotten in the library or a quick prayer session in the on campus cathedral which was always open for troubled minds.

Yet the escape went smoothly. Coats were taken at the door and libations were spread all around in joyous celebration of the weekend. A sense of concern had washed over the shy companion one had decided to come out with.

“More for me then.” was the intoxicated response as another red solo cup of mystery spirits was downed.

As the night went on, the shy one wandered off, no longer in the mood for loud music and drunken partiers bumping into them. Out onto the back porch where something rather large hid behind a tree.

“Hello?” they called out into the night. “It's ok. I won't hurt you. I just needed some fresh air. Inside just smells like vape juice.”

A hand touched the side of the bannister and felt something wet and sticky. In the amber lighting, it was a reddish color.

“Are you bleeding?”

No response and so the compassionate stranger approached too happy to have a quiet place and someone to talk to. Their scream at the realization that what they had stumbled upon was not human and it was not their blood that came from its body was not heard over the loud pop music inside.

Although the original partier as well as the whole campus was being told to stay in dorms and on campus even more than normal, they were not told the reason why. But they knew. One had seen the corpse of their quiet and reserved friend in the back yard when the bathroom was full and they needed to piss and ran back inside to call for help. Police were called soon after. People gave their condolences not just for their lost friend and fellow student, but more for the punishment those in attendance would be receiving.

That punishment being cleaning the cafeteria at the end of the day for the rest of the year. As this was the first day of doing so in this righteous university based on religion, morale was low. Several students were dressed in the school uniform of navy plaid bottoms, white socks, black shoes (with black laces), a button up dress shirt with a collar, and a navy blue Thom Browne blazer which had been approved through one of the CEO’s children going to the school but hating the previous uniforms. They all moaned and groaned at the prospect of actually having to work for forgiveness.

“You should have thought about that before you snuck out to a dangerous party.” Father Namjoon said. “You will stay here until the place is spotless. I will be back within an hour to check on you. I have confessions from the Faithful to listen to.”

And so the young man who was constantly praised for this love of his God and the passion of his sermons went to the booth and waited to listen in on the sins and guilt the Lord's followers had been holding in. Most were the usual things, they had lied or said something wrong. They lusted over the unattainable or felt as though they weren't faithful enough. Some just had burdens too heavy to deal with alone and so Namjoon would pray with them.

That is until the unmistakable sound of Y/N's voice came in and shook the young man's own piety. She had teased him ever since she arrived only a few months ago, but he never gave into her antics. However, they still stayed in his mind so much that he prayed for her. Because of silence on that front, he knew she was just a person in his path to test his faith. Namjoon would never admit that she was doing a rather splendid job at doing so.

“Sorry, Daddy, I've been a bad girl.” Her saccharine voice said.

“Now you know that is not how we do this, Y/N.” Father Namjoon replied.

She giggled, “Yet I know you are listening to me more closely than anyone who has ever said such things properly, aren't you, Father Joonie?”

Every word that came from her mouth taunted the young man and pulled at the Father's heart and other parts inside of him. He stammered out that he needed to get back to his other duties and this needed to be quick.

“I do have a real concern.” The young lady spoke with an irresistible pout in her voice. “It would be irresponsible for you to ignore it, Father~”

“Speak your heart's worry to me, my Child.” Namjoon sighed.

The woman spoke of wanting to claim not only the heart, but also the mind, body, and soul of a man. She claimed to have done this before but not in a very long time and it had never been so difficult for her to approach him in a one on one situation.

“It is not within the right of man to claim another as his property.” Father Namjoon replied with such conviction it surprised him and the woman on the other side of the wooden partition, his body turned to face her.

His hand set on the space in the partition and her hand set on top of it.

Y/N smiled, “What if I am not a man? Nor am I human.”

Brown eyes met ones as bright as rubies. In the darkness of the confessional, the coloring was clear as day. Namjoon felt his hand move but was not sure if he wanted to stop it until his own flesh touched the soft fabric covering her own skin... which body part was this? A quick squeeze and he jerked back his hand. It had been her breast he had grabbed and so he bolted from the booth due to the shock of the action. He felt the need to hide away from everything she was. God knew he had not meant to touch her body like that. It was what she had wanted but the feeling wasn't mutual. Namjoon had taken to a tree in the middle of the courtyard to catch his breath.

“Good afternoon, Father Namjoon. Are you alright?” Father Yoongi asked.

His long time friend and Namjoon's adopted sister who had followed his God given plan into becoming a nun. Both were dressed in their own black and white robes with looks of concern upon their faces for the man they cared so much about. He gave the two a smile and laughed.

“I... I am fine. I simply got frightened by a bee that got too close for comfort.” He would ask the Lord's forgiveness later for lying to his dear friends.

His sister laughed, “They must have mistaken your aura for a physical flower.”

Yoongi chuckled and then asked, “Would you like to join us in getting some craft supplies from in town? We could always use an extra pair of hands.”

“Perhaps another time, Father Yoongi. I have been given the duty to watch over those who attended that party, their punishment that is.” He pushed his hair back. “I was just on my way to check in on their progress.”

“Best of luck to you, dear brother.” Said the little sister.

After polite bows and words of farewell, Namjoon finished the evening quite quickly after the cafeteria was cleaned and decided to work on his sermon for the week.

~~~~

There had not been another incident for a few days. Nothing as big, that is. Instead it was Namjoon's own mind that he was fighting against for the past evenings. He knew she would be back today after the sermon. The man with hair like honey was sure of it, like a well kept promise. He'd keep himself under control and not get caught up in her teasing, he would do his best not to take her bait. Wanting to claim a man for herself. All of him.

He almost wanted her to come back so he could learn more.

And so she did. Within the grated separation, crimson eyes glowed. She smiled, her giggle sounding more like a threat than actual joy.

“So, Father. It seems you have been expecting me.” Y/N announced as the door creaked shut and she sat on the aged red cushion where thousands of students and guests had sat before for years on end.

“Of course,” the blonde man swallowed deeply and ignored the cotton on his tongue in order to speak correctly. “You are a student at this university and so--”

A cute laugh that sounded like the sweetest doom poured from her lips, “Don't play dumb with me, Joonie~ I see how you force yourself not to look at me in class. Why don't you?”

Namjoon replied honestly--as he always did, “You don't wear your uniform properly. It's immodest.”

“But I keep that part unbuttoned just for you. No one else, I swear.” Y/N spoke what appeared upon first listen to be candied false promises.

He scoffed quietly, “Forgive me for not believing that coming from someone like you.”

She pouted, “You should. I don't want anyone else but you, and I intend to make you mine sooner than later.”

“You should repent your lustful and commandeering ways and try to walk in the Lord's light. It is not too late for someone so young like you.” Candid were the words which came from the man who promised himself to the Most High

“But you have the choice to be in MY light, Father. Make the right one before it is no longer a choice you can make.” Her tone alone put the sin in sincere.

“What are you?” Namjoon asked quietly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Y/N made a sighing hum, “Me and my kind have been called many things and depicted millions of times in your media in half as many years. However, I think the common term is Vampire.”

Namjoon gasped and his blood went cold as he knew this was the only truth. That it would explain her eyes and her enchanting ways. Why the men of the school followed her and adored her in the most carnal of ways and fooled themselves thinking it was pure intentions they had with her. Wasn’t that how they were? He saw it in their eyes. Yoongi would sometimes smack them in the back of their heads when he read the thoughts that dripped from their hungering eyes such as the drool from their gaping mouths.

“V-V-Vam-Vam-” The priest stuttered out. The word gripped him like an iron maiden.

Her teeth glinted in the little bit of amber that snuck through the cracks of the ancient confessional, “Yes. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned for nearly a thousand years. Lately I’ve been biting into some of the more beautiful of the young men that come here and women too. Even those who would rather not subscribe to gender no matter how much it is forced upon them. I am not picky. Blood is blood though it does taste better when I see those beautiful faces become twisted in horror and their eyes roll back when I finally sink my teeth into their alluring necks and wrists. The school uniforms to very well at hiding the scars until they heal.”

Y/N’s voice was tinted with true revelry in those moments that must have been the terrors for others. She had in fact created a harem of students to do her bidding in the sunlight where she could not go, right?

“The sunlight,” Namjoon asked. “How do you?”

“Do you really think vampires can live for millenia and not find some way to thrive even in sunlight?” She laughed. “We have many scientists in our ranks who have created ways of surviving in the sun. That along with natural evolution.”

A knock. Time’s up. Apologies exchanged after hushed guarantees to visit later. Y/N had promised to claim him. He could either submit to her by choice or by force. Was there not some way to defeat her?

Namjoon tried his best to continue to perform his daily duties as a priest, as one of the most looked up to men in this lifestyle. Vampires were demons! He could not let himself succumb to her and her unbuttoned top and her plump thighs in her too short skirt. It had been required for girls to wear shorts underneath, but she never did. Instead she bent over and displayed herself for anyone with the pleasure to pass by.

A pleasure? No. It was wrong. Sinful. Gaudy. Women needed to respect themselves and hide their precious bits for someone special. Their husband. Though Namjoon believed women were allowed to do what they wanted with their own bodies, there was a time and a place for everything. The school hallways during the changing of classes were not appropriate options for either. No one else had ever called her out on it, so neither did he.

There had been a few like that. Skipped through classes with no regards for the rules and omitted their pants, but that was the cause of money. The wealthy child of a wealthy benefactor. A single feigned outcry of unfair treatment could cause for their abundant donations towards the school to be pulled. So many sinners in a house of God, but Namjoon knew that was the way it was supposed to be. He knew they wouldn’t be like this forever. They’d see the light of his Lord and see the fault in their ways. Some had in the few months he had been there.

They had become good little cherry blossoms. Had decided to become part of the flock of sheep that took God’s Word to heart. Some mere liars. Goats hiding their horns. However Y/N had been the lion among the lambs, making peace and friends and yet simply bringing them elsewhere to be devoured. All of this occurring away from the eyes of the herders. Right behind them, but they refused to turn and look because they were blinded or simply ignorant by choice.

Had this been her first slip up? Eating the young woman from the party? The DNA found on the body had belonged to a woman thought to be dead for over a hundred years. In the short week after the celebration gone wrong, the case had been thrown out due to evidence tampering. However, it all made sense with one of the few truthful confessions the taunting young woman ever told. The DNA found did in fact belong to a being over the age of 100. It belonged to Y/N, not as if anyone would believe the man no matter how faithful and honest he was.

With heavy feat and a foggy head, Father Namjoon began to disrobe and pray before troubled slumber claimed his night. All he could dream about was Y/N. Belonging to her and giving into desires he had cast aside in the name of following the Lord. Tasting her sweet nectar below, making her hips roll in an attempt for him to go in deeper to her sweet and tangy tasting core. Eyes opened in fright but the second attempt at a G rated dream was even more pornographic. She was feeding on him and he shuddered in joy.

Her eyes like two glowing cherries.

Would a vampire’s bite be so calming? So intoxicating? With Y/N, it could be. He knew that for sure as if the words were spoken to him in a prayer of promise. From his own heart. Yet being fed from above was not enough for her. She also wanted her sacred garden to be plowed and seeded by him.

“Begone, Daemon!” The tall man said into the empty and simplistic room.

His own. Not the den where she had...that he had dreamt. The black iron framing of the bed contrasting the white quilt placed upon it for the colder nights and the equally white walls. Light seeped through the thin linen curtains and showed the specs of dirt dancing in the morning rays of pure and comforting light. Namjoon quickly went to his knees and prayed for the fear to go away. To purify and forgive him for his impure thoughts of a student he was supposed to help guide.

“Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I do not know what has gotten into me, but I promise I will not stray from your path, Dear Lord. You are my light. You are my Savior. I refuse to let the lustful thoughts of that young woman lead me astray. I ask for your guidance now more than ever, God. Oh, God.” He wept. “Please help me.”

When one sacrifices himself for his Lord, when one gives himself to his faith completely, it tends to twist their outlook. It gives someone confidence they did not have before because they feel they have backup. That they are not alone. That is what Namjoon felt as he walked into the class to teach his class for the day. He had truly believed in this morning’s “Amen.”

As a man trained in philosophy until it left him with more questions than answers, he brought that into teaching his class of young adults about God’s word. His promises. He taught about His protection today. With renewed strength, he slammed his ruler on a giggling girl’s desk and asked her to read her texts allowed. Nothing but lustful tones filled the abbreviated letters and messages to someone in a different class.

Y/N spoke up, “As if you are one to judge, Father Joonie. I would not doubt if you had dreams of exploring a woman’s ‘Garden of Eden’ from time to time. Tasting the honey that drips from her at the mere sight of your own sun kissed face.”

A ball of guilt and craving entered the man’s stomach and he hesitated to look at the young woman he now knew was a vampirinc daemon. He feared all weaknesses would be clear in front of her. But he had his Lord and Jesus Christ and even the Holy Spirit on his side. Standing up straight, the young Father smoothed his black robes and met her eyes now their imitation of human coloring instead of the demonic garnet shade he was familiar with.

“I am not one to judge on anything. That is a job reserved only for our Lord Jesus Christ. I simply am stating that her mind should be on the lesson and not matters of the flesh.” Namjoon spoke with a straight spine. “As for your guess as to what I do in my own privacy, in my own head, that is not for you to know.”

“Then I am right.” She said with a knowing attitude and a sharp glare.

Brown eyes defied his inner doubt and said, “You have every right to think so and you also have every right to button up your blouse.”

A false pout sat upon her plump lips, “Even Jesus hung out with harlots.” and folded her arms which made her chest seem even more voluptuous than before, creating stronger cleavage to be seen through her opened dress shirt and blazer.

“I am not Jesus, but I am in charge here. So please conduct yourself properly.” Namjoon said.

“Feeling brave today, aren’t we, Father Joonie?” Y/N said before deciding to follow the rules. . . in her own way. “Taehyung-ssi~, will you button up my shirt for me? I’ve hurt my thumb this morning.”

The beautiful young man with skin like caramel stammered and eventually nodded and blushed as he ghosted his hands above her chest, having to look directly at it to do what he was commanded to do. He even bit his lip. As the moment stretched out, she smiled and looked at his face. His heartbeat had to have been loud. Namjoon’s heart was beating louder and was biting his lip even harder. Why? He should’ve said something when she made the request in the first place.

Instead jealousy made the strong jaw tense as both hands gripped firmly on the podium in front of him.

“That’s--” Father Namjoon began, starting to get fed up with how long this was taking.

“Done. Is that fine, Y/N?” The younger man asked, forcing himself to look into her eyes and his cheeks became scarlet.

She gave a smile, “Yes. Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

Both students sat in their seat and the lesson continued as the sun was high in the sky, beating down on all of the rich campus. The sun that gave all of the world life and light began to sink soon after the final lesson and Namjoon decided to finish grading the last test at home. As he passed by what was supposed to be an empty hallway since it was nearing dusk, he instead heard labored breathing and primal grunts alonged with muffled moans.

“Be quiet, or someone is going to hear you.”

Was someone in trouble? Had someone given into their lustful urges and gone after an innocent student?

The sunkissed man with a heart of gold and duty towards bettering humanity sped towards the source of the sound. Moans and grunts got louder as the concerned teacher traveled empty halls to find who would be visiting the Headmaster and getting extra sessions in the confessional.

It was not any sound of pain, but pure erotic rapture taking place on the sturdy tables attatched to the floor. Pure whites and blues being tarnished by the sweat and friction it takes for at least two bodies to engage in intercourse. The bodies belonging to those who engaged in what turned out to be subtle foreplay of buttoning a simple blouse in front of a class of 13 other students and a fuming teacher. Who else better to approach the scene of discarded navy blue blazers now?

“Oh, I do love your blood the most, Taehyung-ssi. I would take more, but I wouldn’t want your cock to suffer any loss since I find that just as delicious if not more.” purred a familiar voice. “Yes! Oh yes! You are such a good pet, TaeTae.”

Deep growls responded, “Take as much as you want, Mistress. I’ll produce more blood. Ah! Ah, I want to serve you, Mistress.”

She moaned at his repeated penetrations, “You serve me so well, my pet. I assure you. Mmmm, right there. The most--oh--sought after boy on this incredibly dull campus approaching me my first day here, mmmpph and not backing down even after you found out what I was.”

“I just wanted to be yours, Mistress. I didn’t care how. Feed on me more, my beloved Mistress. Please.” Taehyung’s labored voice begged.

“You’re close, aren’t you, my pet?”

A desperate voice answered, “Mmmm, gya. Yes, Mistress.”

Y/N’s unforgettable laugh, “Ok, one more bite.”

Namjoon watched through the cracked doorway, unable to tear himself from the sounds of such passionate and primal coitus in an empty classroom. He remembered the time in high school when his heart led him to do the same with his crush, but it became the reason why he was sent here in the first place. It had been seen as too dirty and sinful when the love they had was as pure as freshly fallen snow.

Now, to see the one he said would claim him instead claim another, it...it hurt. It clouded his once confident mind with doubt and complex feelings. Had she lied to him? Was he really something so special when she had claim to half if not all of the student body at this point? Did such a pain that shot through his chest even deserve the name of heartache?

The sight of her removing the white dress shirt from Taehyung’s shoulder and sinking her glistening fangs into the area made something shift inside Father Namjoon. A brief wish to be in the young man’s position instead of standing stunned in fading sunlight flitted through his mind as he stared, mouth agape and stomach being filled with the most sensual of sins in the highest concentration. Such an act was being performed right in front of his snout which rested a pair of glasses.

As if fate wanted to make sure he saw every moment, every thrust, every bead of sweat as clear as possible.

Eyes like Hellfire looked directly at the frightened but enticed priest, assuring him that she had known he was there the entire time. The smile telling him not to look away even as the black framed lenses landed on the floor.

“Mistress! I feel so dizzy~” Taehyung whined. “Can I--?”

“Go ahead, pet.” She responded.

With blue plaid bunched around ankles, the student thrusted deeply into his Mistress with a broken moan. He begged for Y/N’s kisses and she gave them to him for being so good for her. As the affectionate action was done, a troubled pious man ran away. Out of sight, out of mind, right? That was his goal.

“Mistress, who was that?” the pet asked, breathing heavy and mind full of fog in part due to blood loss.

Y/N caressed his head and felt his creamy offering inside of her, “No one, my dear. Rest now. I’ll get you a nice comfy place to rest. Don’t you worry.”

With the door shut firmly behind himself, the call of concerned friends asked the reason for his quick pace and strained face. He assured them that it had just been a long day and he had just been in need of rest and it would be best if he were left alone for the time being.

“I just need to pray.” the young man with hair like a sandy beach promised himself.

But there was something that needed to be dealt with before he uttered a word up to the Heavens to hear. The growing problem in his pants making them even tighter, now pressing up against the zipper. It...it had to be handled now. This was the first time Namjoon had been on his knees not to pray, but to instead relieve the lust that created a fire in his groin. A fire as bright as Y/N’s ruby eyes. Unbuttoning pants and moving down black fabric and white underwear to free his thick and throbbing phallus. More upstanding than he was perceived by everyone on the other side of the door.

He just had to make it quick, and so the horny representative of the Heavenly Father began the task of sliding his hand back and forth along already moisturized skin. Friction was decreased due to his own precum leaking onto the rest of his cock. Biting the hem of his robes to keep quiet and keeping it out of the way, the man imagined himself in the place of his student, serving his Mistress in the most carnal of ways. He thought of her flame filled eyes looking at nothing but him.

Mistress. Mistress. Please don’t let anyone else serve you but me, Mistress. I’ll do anything. Please! He tried to stay true to the live script but instead let his own desires come forth. You were right. I do think that way. I haven’t thought about any of this stuff in a long time, not until you revealed what you were. Please!

He imagined Y/N’s hands scraping down the front of his chest and landing on his aching cock which she soon took over and began stroking with fervor. She teased him for being so desperate and laughed at him for making things so hard on himself when he could have just given in. Namjoon could just deliver himself unto his urges and into her and then maybe he’d be rewarded with actually getting to cum inside of her. Father Namjoon just wanted to let his snake explore her bush for the rest of his Earthly years..

The constricting heat of it. Her voice calling him precious names and soon enough his own voice was begging just like Taehyung’s had been. The small bit of sense left in the priest’s mind caused him to bite on his own arm as his white seed fell onto the barren land of a carpet a few shades darker due to it being traveled by many feet, making his sin even brighter and apparent.

Guilt soon constricted his heart and hot tears of regret burned and flowed down his cheeks. This was no way to live! He could not serve two Masters! He had to choose and Namjoon was sure his body had already decided against all reason, all logic, all sincerity to his life and love of serving his Savior God.

The next day in class, it was difficult to look at the one he had imagined pumping his cock for less than 24 hours ago on his bedroom floor. She noticed very early on in the teachings and had been torturing him thought the entire lesson, spreading her legs too wide while in her seat and even while in groups, she made sure her back was towards Father Namjoon and bent over the desk to reveal the scandalously thin and lacy thong she had decided to wear.

Blood rushed to all extremities of the teacher with a war inside of him. Which to follow, his Master or a new one that would rather be called Mistress? One was certainly real in a physical plane as well as mental. He no longer hesitated to believe in her power, though his troubled thoughts were stilled by a hand tapping his arm.

Father Namjoon jumped out of his skin, making the others laugh for a moment.

He then turned to the face of a young woman known as Lisa, “Father Namjoon, the timer? It’s been going on for a while.”

The beeping of his phone was silenced and then he had the groups go through and speak about the Biblical topic they had chosen. Research had been done as a group, but only two would present to class until the bell rang. Once the charming ring of wind chimes sounded, the students were released to their next class. The honey haired priest then cleaned up the room before his next class came for his teachings.

There was a folded note with his name on it in the seat in which Y/N every day as things were organized by surname. Namjoon’s heart jumped in excitement and anxiety at what the letter contained. It was a time and a place. A smile broke out on the teacher’s face so bright and broad that he had to cover it with his hand.

Next class came in. The same lesson was taught. The sun went down slower than usual.

Soyeon raised her hand, “Father Namjoon, why do you keep looking at the time? Are you looking forward to something?”

“Nothing in particular. I just hear that it will be a full moon tonight, so I am excited to see it once it’s up.” The man gave a polite smile as the timer went off.

Once the silver moon was high in the star speckled sky, Namjoon travelled to the location which was written on Y/N’s note. It was the old church that had been abandoned years ago after a great fire years before Namjoon ever showed up to this university. With only memory and a flashlight to guide him, the priest was clad only in a pair of black jeans with a white button up shirt tucked into them. The sleeves were rolled up to right below the elbow since he no longer felt wholly right in wearing his robes.

He opened the charred wooden doors with a groaning creek. Invisible small animals ran among scattered leaves.

“Hello, Y/N?” Namjoon called out. “A-are you--Are you here?” His voice reverberated upon the walls of the dilapidated cathedral.

No reply. He was stupid, and for what? Where had all of his rational thinking gone? The priest should have stayed with his God and his books. This may have been the day he died. It was just his imagination, all of this. The 100 year old DNA was just evidence that had been tampered with. She wasn’t a vampire. They didn’t even exist!

“Now now, don’t say that.” Y/N’s voice echoed. “I was just putting on the final touches, Father Joonie~”

Namjoon’s gaze fell upon the beautiful woman’s form, the vampire who had awoken years of suppressed lust inside of him. The one he wanted to serve more than almost anything.

Her shape was covered in a tight rose colored dress which left little to the imagination as it had no sleeves and only straps to hold up a beautiful bosom that glittered in the moonlight due to the chains that dangled from a black lace choker with a ruby as red as her eyes in the middle. Her fingers were adorned with black rings and she was holding red wine in a crystal glass. Her red and gold studded heels clacked on the aged dark wooden floor. As she tucked her hair behind her ear, the earrings she always wore winked in the moonlight along with a rosy bracelet.

“How do I look?” She asked, spreading her arms revealing lace underneath her breasts allowing her skin to peak through.

The man choked on his own words and was unable to reply. She had really arrived at the meeting spot for him. Of course, she was the one who set this all up in order for her to claim the man.

She smirked, the tip of blade like fangs flashed, “Thank you. I must say that you look quite delicious as well. I do quite despise those robes for doing such a good job at hiding such delectable and supple shapes like yours.”

“Y/N,” The man spoke softly. “I have come to give you my answer.”

“Is it the right one?” The woman stood in front of him and batted her eyes.

Namjoon nodded and could not meet her cherries, “For me, yes. I cannot be yours as much as it pains me. My heart and soul belong to my God.”

She frowned and the glass shattered in her hand as wind picked up, there was a crack in her usually calm and cocky exterior, “It’s a shame that I have to do this by force, Joonie. I had really hoped you made the correct decision.”

Hands were put up defensively, such is the way one should hold themselves in an attempt for self preservation.

“Please, hear...hear me out. I want. I want you. I want to be yours, Y/N. There are feelings that I have never felt before, and I doubt they’ll just go away.” His voice was soft as the sky and had a rasp which matched the crinkling leaves. “But I cannot serve two Masters--”

“What if I told you that you can keep your priesthood and still belong to me?” Y/N said.

Was such a thing possible? “. . .I’d take that option in a heartbeat.”

Her smile returned and the wind died down, “Alright, then. Your heart, body, and half of your mind will belong to me, but He gets to keep your soul and the other half of your mind.”

Namjoon gave an eager nod, “Yes. Yes, please! What do I have to do?”

In an instant, Y/N ripped off the startled man’s shirt Sharp talon like fingers dragged up the abdomen which flexed underneath her touch. A firm hand then gripped his chin and forced them to look at her. Shaded eyes looked up with a devilish grin with showed the entirety of fangs sharper than any needle the desperate man had ever seen. He let himself get lost in her red beryl eyes and felt himself losing all of his will as two lovely canines sunk into his neck. A bit of warm wetness trickled from the wounds, dying his shirt a romantic crimson. Tears of pure bliss dropped from his eyes. It was painless as he felt himself relax under her ministrations, his legs starting to give out.

Father Namjoon soon found himself kneeling in front of her red dress as she licked her scarlet stained lips. Her heel cover shoe then stepped on the oh so attentive cock hidden beneath thin trousers. The man hissed in a breath and felt as though he could orgasm then and there.

“Hmp, I finally have you, don’t I?”

She then began walking away from him and floated up the stairs and sat herself on top of the pulpit and spread her legs. Unlike earlier where there was a piece of black lace separating YN’s already deflowered garden from the harshness of man, there was nothing except flowing river of her honey. The half turned priest licked his lips.

“Equivalent exchange, my dear. I take some of your lifeblood and you take your fill of my body. Anything you desire no matter how sinful it is, I will happily fulfill. Now devour my nectar.”

“Yes, Mistress~” Namjoon said without missing a beat and then walked towards her dripping pussy, taking a deep inhale. “Oh, God. It smells delicious.” He hovered his nose right above her heat and breathed in again, his torso pressed against the pulpit’s wooden cross and adding much needed pressure to his sheathed length.

Y/N shoved his head forward, “No more talking! Become mine already!” obvious impatience after months of hard work was expected and rewarded.

Everything Namjoon had ever imagined over the past 6 years of learning and eventually becoming a teacher at the school came forth. All thoughts that had been shoved to the deepest parts of his mind were given new life as he took his fill of her body. His pants were now discarded somewhere off to the side as he became hungrier and more unhinged.

He wanted to be hers and he wanted his God. With this oath, he was promised both. Jesus died for man’s sins. It would be a waste if he died for nothing, right? Every thrust inside the vampire he adored was like a prayer and her moans a matching hymnal loud enough for Him and all of His angels to hear.

“Mistress. Oh, Y/N. Thank you. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you, Mistress Y/N.” Father Joonie panted out as he rutted with no sense of fatigue. “I don’t know why I tried to fight it. I can really have it all with you.”

She giggled and moaned out his name, “Oh yes, Father Joonie, yes you can.”

“Don’t be with anyone else. Please. Keep your eyes on me. At least when we’re together. Don’t play around with Taehyung or anyone else.” He sounded so pitiful, begging a student that he taught not to play with his heart.

“If I ever play with anyone else, you will be there to make--oh goodness--to make sure they’re doing it right. You’re my number 1, Joonie. I wanted you and so I’m going to have you ask much as I can.” She was a moaning mess under him as they screwed, using the pews as support to blow out a Vampire’s back.

The fiercely tender words went right to the priest’s cock, “I’m gonna. Mistress Y/N, I’m going to cum! Let me seed your garden, please!”

His fluttered as she once again sank her teeth into him and sucked.

“Fuck! Yes! Oh God, yes!” The priest orgasmed deep inside his vampire student.

Father Namjoon no longer cared about him being her professor or that she was a vampire. All he could think about was how most of him belonged to her now. He slid out of her and got onto his knees to lay his head in her lap once she sat up. She caught her breath and started to smooth his head. Maybe she had pushed him too far for their first feeding.

Her own clothing had never been removed completely, only pushed out of the way to free her bosoms and create better access to her now filled and dripping pussy. She did not attempt to correct any of this as she adored the exposed feeling of it all.

Then her most prized possession in several centuries said to her in his dazed state, “I want to be yours for the rest of my life, Y/N.”

“And you will be.” She promised.

[donalddepatos]

Baby Ducks

When 10 year old Donald is dragged to a party, he finds @daisygoeslive and the two have semi civil meeting. Cameo from @minniehq.

If Donald had to be dragged to one more party and stuffed into another monkey suit by his uncle, he was going to explode. It wasn’t even like he didn’t like spending time with Uncle Scrooge and Della, but these parties had become more and more overwhelming over the years. It didn’t help that he didn’t really know how to talk to people at these things either. His Uncle always seemed to form a crowd of people who hung on his every word. Asking questions about his adventures or trying to learn his secrets for how he gained such a big fortune.

Then there was Della, cute and witty Della, who their Uncle held up and bragged about to anyone who would listen. And at these things that was almost everyone. She was good at this, explaining her passions and having acquired Scrooge’s skills of articulation. She also always seemed to walk out of here with some�� new friend she’d met, parents setting up playdates between her and their kids with Scrooge. 

Donald wasn’t like that, he couldn’t handle the attention that came with being Scrooge’s nephew. It wasn’t like his Uncle didn’t try and brag about him, but Donald wasn’t able to add anything else to what he said. He’d stutter through answers, eventually becoming frustrated enough that he ended up mumbling too much. His frustrations only grew when Scrooge would tap him with his cane, telling him to straighten up and speak clearly.  Temper getting the best of him he’d storm off, hearing the adults' remarks over how Scrooge really needed to teach Donald better manners. 

Della would try and find him, but sometimes that was just as frustrating. He didn’t want to just be her angry twin all the time, letting her talk for him. It wasn’t his fault no one had the patience to wait for him to answer their questions. Contrary to popular belief he didn’t like to be angry all the time, he was ten, he was a kid. But everyone here seemed to expect all the kids to be mini adults already. It was frustrating beyond belief for the young boy, which is why he tended to stay quiet and wander away during one of Scrooge’s stories. 

Food was the best part about these parties, the waiters’ didn’t expect anything out of him and he knew how to at least keep his clothes clean while eating. He liked waiters, they just handed him food and let him be on his way. The rules made sense too, all he had to do was say please and thank you. See? He knew his manners! He was a good kid, he just had trouble sometimes. 

After thanking a waiter, he was wandering out of the main room of the party towards the outside area. There were a lot of pretty lights set up and even a band. That was another thing that actually made sense to him, music. He could be loud and run around when music was playing, well if it was the loud kind. He didn’t like the quiet soft kind that much, it meant he had to stay still and listen. Which was really boring, what was the point of music you couldn’t play with? 

Tugging off his bow tie, he stuffed it into his back pocket. The waiter had given him a plate with mini cocktail weenies and shrimp, along with some weird red sauce he had thought was ketchup. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but he still didn’t want to risk getting dirty. That would be its own set of problems for him. Walking away he looked around for a spot he could sit at, the few outside tables had adults all over and that meant talking. 

The music slowly faded as he wandered closer to the edge of the last tables, before he heard a weird sound. Brow furrowing he glanced around, shrugging when he didn’t see anyone. He was about to sit at the lone table to enjoy his food when that sound came out again. It sounded like...crying? Setting his plate on the table he crouched down lifting the table cloth to pear underneath it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t a girl smaller than him glaring at him. Yelping he dropped the cloth as he fell backwards, blinking in confusion he slowly crawled forward lifting up the cloth again. The girl was still glaring but now he could see tear stains on her cheeks and how red her eyes were. 

“Uh…” he vaguely heard his Uncle in his head lecturing him for that, “Hi?”

“Go away,” she snapped.

Frowning his eyes narrowed as he looked at her, “Why are you under a table?” 

“None of your beeswax,” she snapped, grabbing a handful of grass off the ground and tossing it his way. 

“Hey!” he snapped while brushing it off, grateful that it wouldn’t stain, “I didn’t do anything!” 

“I said go away! You’re supposed to go away when someone asks,” she said brushing her hand over her eyes to wipe any stray tears. 

Donald was tempted to do as she asked, but she was also kind of annoying so the stubborn part of him didn’t want to listen. “You didn’t ask,” he said smugly, “You snapped at me...that’s...uh…that’s rude!” Yea that what it was, he was the polite one for once. 

The girl looked like she wanted to argue more before her lower lip and more tears started streaming down her face. Wait no...he didn’t want to make her cry more. 

“Just leave me alone,” she said, sounding more exhausted than anything else. 

His Uncle had told him once what to do when a girl was crying, he racked his head trying to remember what it was. You were supposed to give them something...like a tissue or something. Glancing down he spotted the handkerchief on his jacket, that’s what it was! Taking it out he crawled under the table holding it out to her. 

“Here,” he mumbled, face flushing as he looked down while holding it out. 

He didn’t catch her expression as she looked at him surprised before slowly taking it from him. He felt their fingers brush as he chance a glance up, watching as she wiped her eyes and face with it. Her eyes were still a little red but she at least looked a little more put together. 

“Thank you,” she said messing with the handkerchief in her hands.

“You’re welcome,” he said. An awkward silence slowly formed and he cleared his throat, “I’m Donald De Patos,” introduced trying to remember the manner rules and held his hand out. 

He watched as she took his hand, hers a lot smaller in his, “I’m Daisy Waddles, nice to meet you.” 

Ok introductions were done, he thought, taking his hand back. So now what? God this is why he hated talking; it was hard and too much work. “So...uh why were you crying?” Ask questions about them, that was good manners right?

The girl frowned and he was worried he was going to get grass thrown at him again before she shifted on the ground. She sat up from her hunched position showing him the side of her dress. What once had been a nice shade of aqua on her dress, on her right side now had a brown stain on her middle. 

“Me and my best friend, Minnie, were trying to get some chocolate from the fountain,” she said, her lip trembling again, “She tripped and got it on me, I got mad and ran. Now she probably thinks I hate her...and we won’t be friends anymore.” 

Donald’s mind was racing, he didn’t want her crying again, he wasn’t good at this stuff. What would Della or Scrooge do? He frowned at that question, they weren’t here, so Donald had to come up with something. Without thinking he took his black suit jacket off and held it out to her, “Here, this way no one will see, and then we can find Minnie.” Maybe it wasn’t what his family would have done, but hopefully Donald was good enough for today. 

He watched as Daisy looked at him, confusion on her face, before she took the jacket. Putting it on he helped her put the two bottom buttons on, the sleeves were too long ending almost at her fingertips, and the bottom went past her waist, but she looked more cute than disastrous he thought.

Moving out from under the table, he lifted up the cloth and held out his hand towards, “Come on...um...let’s go find Minnie,” he mumbled. He felt her grab onto his hand as he led her back towards the party, his plate of food forgotten for now. 

As they walked he felt Daisy glance up at him, “Thanks Donald, I’m sorry I was mean. You’re really nice.”

Feeling his face flush,  he couldn’t help the swell of pride at having done something right. He mumbled a soft no problem as the two continued their walk back. The two walked quietly back to the party, though this time it didn’t feel as awkward to him. It was kinda nice being the one who’d done something right for once he thought. They had barely walked back into the party when a loud voice had screamed out, “Daisy!” 

Donald glanced over seeing a girl in a large pink princess dress barreling towards them. Taking a step back he’d let go of Daisy’s hand letting the girl tackle hug her. The girl was talking a mile a minute apologizing over the chocolate incident, while Daisy was getting in a word every other sentence that, yes they were still friends. 

With all the commotion, a few adults started walking over. Two said Daisy’s name, and based on how they looked he assumed they were her mommy and daddy. He watched Daisy walk over, showing her mom the stain and apologizing profusely. Minnie quickly relatching onto Daisy, saying it was all her fault, tears in the other girl’s eyes. Donald shifted uncomfortably when Daisy explained where the jacket was from. Without thinking he ducked away, missing the confused and disappointed look on Daisy’s face at not finding him. 

Spotting Della, he’d grabbed her hand asking where Scrooge was. She’d stared at him in confusion before leading him to their Uncle.

“Donnie is everything ok?” she questioned concern in her voice.

Ignoring her he marched over to his Uncle and tugged on his jacket. “Can we go home...please?” he asked, staring at the ground once he had his Uncle’s attention. 

Scrooge frowned but something about Donald’s attitude made him pause. His nephew looked uncomfortable, with a sigh he gave a nod of consent leading his niece and nephew out to go home. Once in their car he glanced at his nephew curiously, “Donald, where is your coat?” 

“I lost it,” Donald grumbled, crossing his arms and staring out the window. Leaning his head against it he closed his eyes. Well at least for once he’d done something right, though he doubted anything would come of having met Daisy. Even if she was kinda nice. 

[atlas-the-worldbuilder]

So! It’s that time of year again, magik is in the air, and monsters are prowling the streets. Time I say we share a good old-fashioned halloween folk story!

Before I begin, let me first clarify a few things. Firstly, this is an old story; the fable has roots in Ireland, and has been around at least several hundred years. As such, several different versions of the story have cropped up, so if you’ve heard a different version of the story, do not fret. For this telling, I’ve selected the iteration of the story which I personally feel is most faithful to the characters and the natural flow of the story itself. Secondly, this is a story with deep cultural and religious ties. Being an Irish folktale, of course, there’s going to be a heavy mix of Christian/Catholic themes alongside more abstract pagan beliefs. I myself say you’re more than welcome to believe whatever you wish, but for those of you who get offended easily by mentions of religion, you may wish to forgoe reading this tale.

That being said, let’s begin this story about a terrifying being who stalks the night every year! Though you probably know him already, in one form or another~...

THE TALE OF STINGY JACK

So! Our story begins a long, long time ago, in a small Irish town - more specifically, the pub of the old Irish town. Sitting in the pub, drinking to his heart’s content, was a man known to the local residents as “Stingy Jack”. Stingy Jack was known around town for many reasons; as the nickname suggests, he was rather cheap and selfish, and was very much known for his avarice and... generally being an all-around jerk to people. However, he was also known for being a rather shrewd and tricky individual; he could always find cash around when he needed it, or ‘convince’ some poor stranger to part with some change.

Another thing Jack was known for was being the town drunkard, and presently he was living up to that reputation. On this particular day, though, Jack had run into a bit of a problem. He had just finished his mug, and was going through his pockets to pay for another, only to find he did not have enough! He cursed to himself, and idlely grumbled, “Damn... I’d sell my soul for one more beer.”

So just imagine Jack’s surprise, when who should happen to hear this plea... but the Devil himself!

The Devil pops into the pub, and takes a seat next to the rather surprised Jack. “So I hear you’ll sell your soul for one more drink, eh?”, the Devil asked, smiling with that devilish grin of his. “I think I can help with that! If you agree to give me your soul, I’ll give you enough change for a final drink at the bar. What do ya say, Jack?” Now Jack, as we covered, was many things - a cheater, greedy, and selfish among them. But one thing he was most definitely not was a fool; he recognized at once that making a deal with the Devil would end up with his desires being twisted or convoluted. But rather than doing what most people would do and decline, Jack decided to try his luck at out-swindling the swindler. “I got a better idea,” Jack replied with a sly grin. “If you turn yourself into a coin, I’ll spend you for my last drink for the night. Then you can change back to normal, and cheat the bartender out of his payment! What do ya say?”

The Devil chuckled aloud. “I like the way you think!”, he confided, and with that, he promptly turned into a gold coin to be spent. However, Jack instead took the devil coin, placed it inside his pocket, and held it against a crucifix he had in his pocket! Unable to shield himself from the sacred icon, the Devil began to shriek and shout. “Please! Stop! It burns!”, the coin shrieked in agony. “I’ll do anything you want, just take it away and set me free!” “Ok then,” Jack replied with a victorious smirk, “I’ll let you go if you promise that I won’t go to Hell when I die!” “Sure, fine!”, the devil cried in pain. “Just let me go!” Jack smiled, and tossed the coin away. The Devil disappeared, and Jack had got his wish.

For the rest of his mortal life, Stingy Jack indulged himself in the most deplorable of activities. He murdered, he stole, he drank, he performed just about every sin and crime in the book. After all, with no worries about where he would end up, he had nothing to fear anymore!

When Stingy Jack’s death finally came to pass, there were more than a few among the townsfolk who were grateful to be rid of his debauchery. Jack’s soul left his body with an air of smug joy, and followed the path to heaven, ready to indulge himself in his afterlife. However, as he approached, the gates remained locked. Confused, he approached the gatekeepers and asked why he couldn’t go to heaven.

“Your soul is too wicked,” the gatekeepers said. “We cannot accept you here.” “I can’t go to Hell, though,” Jack countered confusedly. “Doesn’t that mean I go to Heaven?” Again, the gatekeepers refused him entry due to his wicked soul.

Jack tried again and again to argue his point, but each time was steadfastly refused. Stunned and confused, Jack reluctantly turned away from heaven and began to follow the path. Without a place to rest, his soul wandered the dark, mysterious realm between Heaven and Hell... the Other Side.  For months he wandered, trying to process the gatekeeper’s refusal while avoiding the unearthly shapes and ominous sounds hiding all around him. Finally, though, it dawned on him... the afterlife wasn’t all or nothing, as he had believed.  Heaven was only a place where the goodhearted could reside; because he had lived his life with selfish and greedy intent, he could never truly gain the enlightenment and peace that realm offered. 

Somewhat defeated, Stingy Jack trudged back along the path, down to the only place he had left... the very place he had declined access to...

When he finally arrived at the gates to hell, a familiar face greeted him, his smile full of savage and cathartic schadenfreude.  “Well, well, well! Look who comes crawling back to me!”, the Devil gloated with a cackle. Jack knelt down. “Please,” he begged, “I understand now, and I’m sorry.  I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I just... I need a place to rest. I can’t stay out here, so please let me take back my wish?”

The Devil frowned in thought; while he wasn’t particularly eager to have someone like Jack in his domain - especially after the horrible backstab he’d received -, it seemed somewhat unfair to let the swindler go empty-handed...

With a vile smirk, the Devil grabbed a burning hot coal from the ground at his feet. “Here, this should help light your way!”, he called out as he tossed it over the gate. “Careful, its hot!”

As Jack caught the burning coal, a couple things happened. Firstly, his hand was severely burned, as the coal seared his skin, and he screamed. Secondly, the hellish energies and magik from the coal began to mutate and warp his body. His body twisted and stretched, as Jack was transformed into a freakish entity, daemonic energy radiating from his once mortal body.

With the Devil’s laughter ringing in his ears, Stingy Jack slunk back into the darkness, clutching the coal. Rejected by heaven and hell, he spent what felt like an eternity wandering the dark, twisting, foreboding lands of the Other Side. All the while, he held the searing hellfire coal in his hands - too painful to squeeze it tight, but too afraid of losing it forever to let go. After all, it was his only source of light and warmth, in the darkness. And it likely would’ve remained that way, but then Jack gained a small reprieve.

Whether it be through sheer determination or from some bizarre supernatural strength granted by his transformation, Stingy Jack managed to hold onto that burning coal until a very special day came. That day, of course, was All Hallow’s Eve - Halloween.   A day when the mortal world and the Other one start to grow closer together, and the monsters and strange beings from the Other Side start to slip into our world to explore while they can.  Jack, too, managed to cross over, and made it back to his hometown under cover of night.

But he didn’t come to relive the old days, or to apologize to the townsfolk he had wronged; Jack only had a short amount of time before he would be forced to return to the darkness.  He only had one goal: finding something to carry the coal in, so he wouldn't be pained any longer.

So he stumbled through the night, still clutching the eternally-burning coal in his hand.  After several hours of lurking through the woods, he found his way into a farm, where he found a collection of freshly-harvested gourds. He picked a small one, carved a hole in the front and top, hollowed it out, and tied it up with some rope to carry it. Then, he dropped the coal in, and carried it like a lantern, managing to complete all this before slipping back into the darkness.

And this is how he got his name, “Jack of the Lantern”.

The ending of this story differs from telling to telling.  Some like to think that old Stingy Jack has taken this new opportunity to redeem himself, and has taken up the role of a gatekeeper himself, keeping the monsters from the Other side from causing trouble and guiding them back at the end of every Halloween. Others like to think that Jack has only became even more vile and cruel after his transformation, and now lives for the pure enjoyment of the suffering of others, be it mortal or monster.  Unable to sway from his sinful and sadistic past, and now with the powers of a daemon, he has truly become the most monstrous of monsters.

And then there’s those - myself included - who like to take a more benign middle stance: having made peace with his past mistakes, Jack is nowadays just an incurable prankster, living to cause a good scare once in a while, making him not much different than the monsters he walks amongst.

Whatever you believe, the end result is the same.  Jack has earned a reputation among the monsters of the Other Side as a being whom is best not to provoke.  And this reputation is the reason we carve Jack-O-Lanterns every Halloween: to scare away monsters by tricking them into thinking that Stingy Jack’s lurking around. When a monster sees the carved pumpkin, glowing with the light of a flame, they take notice and give it space.

So keep yourselves safe this Halloween, friends.  And if you happen to see a Jack-O-Lantern on its own in the woods... ...run. 

[mimiplaysgames]

Take That Step

Terraqua Week Day 4: Dance

Summary: Terra is a terrible dancer - but he’s fantastic at dancing around his feelings, and it drives Ven crazy. @terraquaweek

Notes: This is a gift to my dear @lyssala!!! I cannot be more grateful for your friendship, your guidance when I’m sad or anxious, your unending support, and your help. There has been way too many days when your belief in me and my writing has helped me through the toughest times. Thank you. <3

Read on AO3.

***

“You know,” Ventus says, in an impish sort of way, “they say that dance is the hidden language of the heart.” 

There isn’t a good reason for him to speak to Terra this way - it’s code for Hey Terra, if you’re too scared to tell Aqua how you feel, just dance with her. It’s easy. 

And the glare Terra gives back says, Please shut up. She’s standing right over there.  

The nerve of the slight fluctuations in Ven’s voice to imply (even by exaggerated standards) that Terra is too scared...

Terra, who sat in darkness for twelve years. Terra, who fought side by side with everyone else at the Keyblade War. Terra, who had the inner strength to face Xehanort and not let himself go to the whims of rage.

And yes, Terra the Brave, who is so intimidated by his best friend that he can’t find the courage to tell her how he’s been kicking himself all this time for never confessing that he wants to kiss her. He still can’t. 

Both people are one and the same.

Aqua sends them a smirk but doesn’t say anything… it’s only times like these when Terra reconsiders whether he can read her like a book anymore. How in the world is she interpreting this?

She switches out one vinyl disc for another in the ballroom’s record player, which before the war and the tragedies, was her favorite room to spend her time. 

“Another song, Ven,” she asks, starting the player up.

He’s her official dance partner (according to him). What a joy it was for her after he arrived to the Land of Departure for the very first time and they find out he really likes to move to music.

Eraqus tried to find the time to humor her but was always too busy. 

Terra… at first was uninterested, and then couldn’t compose himself at the thought of being that close to her for extended periods of time. Thanks, puberty.

Sometimes he wonders if he should suck it up and act his age (Twenty? Thirty-two?). 

For the moment, he stands by the sidelines and watches them waltz together. The lounge chair is comfortable, a wooden cane he made for himself leaning idly by the armrest…

“You don’t want to join in?” Ven asks (yells, it’s a ballroom). 

Aqua is hesitant enough that they both stop in their tracks, a song of rhythmic horns and pretentious violins rocking out without a care in the background.

Terra decides that he hates questions with multiple, loaded, nuanced answers. 

You don’t want to join in? as in Terra, you could be getting some action right now.

And-

You don’t want to join in? as in Terra, maybe some moving around will be good for you, sure you’re ok?

“Sure,” he announces, glancing at his cane and deciding, ultimately, that he won’t need it right now.

Symptoms are strange and erratic. Some days, his body is fine with his exercises, his spars, his runs, his squats and every attempt he makes at keeping up a rigorous schedule like he used to - though he’s nowhere near his prior peak. Then all of a sudden, it gives out, acting like he’s refused to listen to it. It’s a long adjustment just to respect the fact that he’s fatigued all the time.

Aqua starts a silent exchange with him: a look over to see how he’s doing as he stands up, a narrow of her eyes to ask if he’s one hundred percent certain.

He gives her a calm smile in return and she gets it, making room for him by her side.

When worry leaves her face, it’s willed away. She really tries her best. “You remember what to do?” she asks.

His answer is a slow shrug. “All I remember is where to place my hands.”

Ventus sniggers. “I bet.”

It’s already hard enough to keep a straight face around her, but if this damn brat keeps talking…

Aqua rolls her lips in, which in turn makes Terra’s heart beat a little faster, which then makes him wonder if she’s interpreting anything out of Ven’s comment.

Whatever, just keep focused and it’ll blow over.

They start with the posture: her right hand to his left, the others on shoulders - 

“You’re supposed to hold her waist,” Ventus corrects (with a smirk). Which is probably true, but it still makes Terra want to backhand him.

Aqua tsks, her gaze somewhere in discussion with a faraway thought. “I know the guy is supposed to lead the dance but...”

Ven’s eyes go wide, a slow nod like a professor who is understanding something profound. “Yeah, that would be a disaster.”

So Aqua’s hand wraps around Terra’s waist instead.

“Very subtle,” Terra says.

“What do you mean?” He might be overthinking it, but there’s a rosy glow to her cheeks. 

“You’ve always thought I sucked at dancing.”

“That’s not true.” She rolls her lips in again and dammit, it’s cute. “Those rules were dumb and I know better.”

So she guides him, patient each and every time she tells him that he’s supposed to time his foot at one, switch over after three. She keeps the rhythm by counting sometimes and letting him feel it out for himself in others. He appreciates that she doesn’t mock the fact he’s staring at their feet the entire time.

Letting her get so engrossed with the movement is good for her. He hears it in her voice, the joy skipping through her words, which is such a welcome sound after listening to months of dry melancholy that the Realm of Darkness has beaten into her. 

The song ends, letting another with a completely different rhythm take its place and Aqua says that they can simply rock back and forth to this if he wants to keep going - as long as he’s feeling okay. 

It’s subtle indeed when she maneuvers their outstretched hands to fold inwards so he can hold them near his chest. 

Now he can steal glances at her face, at the way she leans into him. He’s wrestling with a stupid grin that he can’t contain, and he feels it fighting to stay plastered to his face. 

Not to mention, Aqua has surely been so much more forward since she’s been back from the Realm of Darkness, taking this slow dance as an opportunity to study his face - really study it in fact. She’s close enough that he can clearly see her eyes taking in all his features, wearing the dorkiest grin he’s seen on her.

“Do I have something on my face?” 

“No.” She rolls her lips in before popping them out.

“Ah.” He nods, taking a break from looking at her to try to straighten his smile. “So do you want to continue to stare at me?”

Master Aqua, Keeper of Calm Demeanors, finds herself caught off guard, eyes wide first before they dart somewhere else, a laugh barely escaping before she contains it, cheeks getting redder and redder like a ripening tomato.

It’s always good news to find a new weakness with her. It’s the best tease. 

He whips her around, throwing her weight entirely on the breadth of his arm, lowering her near-parallel to the floor in a drop. Like a fancy pose. Or at least he hopes it looks like that.

“Terra!” she laughs through her teeth, and he almost wants to lower her more so her short hair can scrape the floor.

Their noses are inches apart.

“Now you have a better vantage point to look,” he says. 

“Pfft,” she glances to her side, like she’s almost too shy - which isn’t like her. “Terra, you’re supposed to do this when the music gets dramatic.”

He hasn’t been listening to the music, his heart has been pounding into his ears. What’s been playing is a lullaby, soft and gentle. 

“It’s at least a good photo op,” Ven’s voice interrupts.

Terra’s been enjoying Aqua so much that he jerks his head to find Ven at the lounge chair, playing with his cane. 

When he is noticed, Ven raises his eyebrows, mocking shock as he brings his hand to his face. “Oh, did you forget me? It happens quite a lot nowadays.” He sets the cane down with a tap. “You take the phrase ‘Dance like no one’s watching’ to a whole new level.”

Terra clears his throat, heat uncomfortably finding solace in his cheeks. He brings Aqua up, though it’s not as easy as it used to be, his arms trembling as he does so. 

Immediately she brushes her hair with fingers, fiddles with her sashes like she needs to straighten them but in reality she’s really doing nothing. Except refuse to look anyone in the eye, a tiny smile betraying every feeling she’s trying to keep safe. 

Terra breathes heavily, and now she’s brave enough to face him. “You okay?” She has one arm outstretched in the direction of his cane, and Ven is ready to hand it over.

“Nah, I’m fine.” He rolls his shoulders, telling himself it’s just adrenaline coursing through his arms. He nods over to Ven - that’s always his strategy to recuperate: change the subject. “How did I do?” 

Ven shrugs. “You did okay. That ending sucked, though.”

~*~*~*~

This castle is too big for only three people, if the dust building in the seldom-ventured rooms are anything to go by. This wouldn’t be a problem if they have students to roam around, which is another reason to keep things clean - invite them over and give them a nice place to live (and take care of).

Because Terra gets too fatigued easily, Ventus usually shares on the responsibility. Terra gets to scrub the tables in the lounge where they are at now, while Ven takes the floor, both barefoot to avoid crummy stains.

Terra curses his body right this second - if he could clean all by himself, he wouldn’t have to listen to his friend’s nagging.

“I don’t know why you’re not doing anything about it,” Ven says, dipping his sponge into his pail of suddy water and squeezing.

Terra keeps his focus on the surface. “I don’t know why it’s any of your business.”

Ven scoffs. “I’ve been watching the two of you ever since I came here.”

This makes Terra turn around. “What’s that supposed to- Ven, we didn’t ignore you back then… Did we?”

“No, of course not.” He waves his arm in dismissal. “But the way you look at me and the way you look at her have never been the same thing.”

If Ven’s noticed this, then surely Aqua has?

Terra goes back to his table, being the only person in this entire world to have no one really understand him. There’s nothing normal about his body anymore, feeling achy, exhausted and sore like he’s an old man already when he shouldn’t be. Normal is what he wants most. Talking to Aqua about these feelings - it’s uncharted territory, where he’d have to be on alert all the time, and he’s learned that there’s a certain beauty to being able to peacefully enjoy his days. 

“I’m just trying to be respectful to her.” That should be enough of an answer.

“Seriously?” Where does Ven get the nerve to sound this exasperated? “That’s fair and all, but you can’t be that dense.”

That sounds suggestive, almost like maybe Aqua had said something to Ven… Nah, it’s a fleeting fantasy. 

“You know what,” Ven continues, “why don’t I set you up with a romantic dinner?”

“You can’t cook.” Terra looks over his shoulder. “And you missed a spot,” he spits.

“I did not.”

“You should go check.”

“You should not change the subject.”

“Ven, if you keep at this, I will mop the floor with you.”

“Oh puh-lease.” He’s letting his sponge overflow with soap, spilling over and build into a puddle in front of him. “You might still have the muscles, but I’ve got new moves and I bet I can take you on.”

Terra has his own pail, sitting innocently next to him on the surface of the table. Terra takes this pail and jerks it, splashing all the soapy goodness onto his best friend, the water cascading off his poor little shoulders, his spiked blond hair now gripping for dear life on his face, his clothes droopy and pathetic.

Ven spits excess water out of his mouth and wipes it, but he’s so soaked it doesn’t help. “Terra, what the-”

“I meant that literally.” Terra grabs the boy by the ankles, and begins wide sweeps around the room with as much force as he can muster, fast enough that Ven’s hair, quite like a literal mop, drags on the floor in laps. 

“Terra!” Ven’s laughing, his attempt to kick off the grip completely futile, hurling his arms anywhere to see if he can grab something. 

He has one success, grabbing the leg of the table which only does so much until it starts to loudly drag along with him. 

“Let go of me!” Ven shouts in between his chortles, his shirt climbing up until it covers his face and he shivers from the cold water on his exposed stomach. 

“Apologize first.”

“Aqua, help!” He lets go of the table, pulling his shirt back down, spitting a ball of bubbles. 

A laugh of his own turns into a shake of his knees down to a wobble of his ankles, where Terra’s last ounce of strength huffs out of his body and he slips, backwards. 

Ven’s ruined hairdo is even funnier. Terra helps himself to it, ruffling a tornado through that soaked mess so that he makes a huge ringlet where that usual spike would normally go. 

“It looks dumb, doesn’t it?” Ven asks through a smile that makes his face look like a baby’s. 

Terra cocks his head. “Yep.”

He shoos Terra’s hand away, flattening the curl in between his palms and irons it out. It looks worse now but if Ven doesn’t know, then it won’t offend him. 

Terra at least tries to get up, but yeah, he’s gotten himself really tired this time. It was worth the laugh, though. 

“I’ll clean up,” Ven cheerfully offers, already standing up.

“No, I can help, I just need a minute.” 

“Yeah right.” A shove from Ven feels like bulldozer to his shoulder, so there on the floor where the water soaks through his pants, Terra has to stay. 

Is it embarrassing to watch Ventus finish the room by himself? Most definitely, and maybe somewhere Terra might actually need some guidance in his life, someone to help him even though he doesn’t want to take it. A lot has changed in their lives already - if Eraqus was still around, this room wouldn’t be so filthy to begin with, for example. 

~*~*~*~

He’s walking with his cane now, but it really was worth the laugh. Newly showered with an annoying pain shooting down from his elbows to his fingertips, he’s tired but satisfied. Aqua can’t help but notice his limping and escorts him to the library, where there’s a nice couch to lounge on and a fireplace that’s more comfortable. 

It’s really late at night, too. Insomnia is right on schedule. 

“You’re not sleeping either?” she asks when she takes a seat next to him. 

He leans into the backrest. Fluffy couches are the best. “Nah… well maybe. We’ll see. I’m exhausted.”

“I can’t either.” She says it with such confidence that tonight has to be a bad one for her. That happens. Other nights are better.

She has her notebook with her - whether it’s a diary, a personal calendar, or a collection of to-do lists, he doesn’t know, even after the years (decades now?) of knowing her. Opening it to a page, there’s a simple table: a litter of tally marks under his name and under hers. She adds one to each: nights they cannot sleep.

“I’m still ahead of you,” she says, bringing the tip of the notebook to her lips. 

He snorts - it’s not really a game he wants her to win when she deserves better. But that’s the inevitable part of life, right? Pain will happen, might as well make a good pastime out of it. “I’ll catch up.”

His fist feels stiff, a numbness tingling in his fingers. It’s not the best feeling to stretch his fingers and move them around, but it’s easier to bend the wrist.

“Are you in pain?” 

“Sure am.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be rough-housing Ven so much.”

“Maybe you should teach Ven the joys of keeping his mouth shut.”

“It’s why we love him.” She folds her legs, leaning over to brush her fingertips against his skin, pressing in several areas to read where his tendons are swollen. It’s harmful to massage the bones, so she always starts somewhere else on his arm when his hands act up, gently rubbing the muscle first before going deeper. In times like these, she’s his strength when he doesn’t have any.

The massage may hurt, but he won’t complain about anything to do with Aqua touching him.

There she is again, though, her hands doing their job but she’s staring at his face.

“What now?”

She thinks for a moment and judging from her expression, she’s going to tell the truth this time.

“You have a very specific smile that shows only when you’re nervous.”

“Oh, really?” She does know him too well, he’s as jitty as a bug right now. She’s touching him after all. 

She keeps a giggle to herself. “It contorts enough to give you dimples.” 

His breath hitches. “It does not.” With his free hand, he digs his fingers into his face, massaging hard enough to get to his gums and force-relax his mouth. 

It’s not like he’s admitting anything, but his reaction gives her enough of an indication to smile wider.

“So what are you nervous about?”

This is a hard one to lie out of. “There’s a lot of things. If I’m ever going to beat Ven at a race again, or… if I can’t fight like my prime anymore. You know?” He’s still rubbing his face.

Aqua leans over to match his eyes; he hasn’t been looking at her directly. “Is that all?”

He tries to smile - he doesn’t know what he looks like but he bets he has dimples now. 

Something serious comes across Aqua’s mind and her smile falls. She’s still beautiful, but it’s not as much of an enjoyable image to witness. “There are a lot of things, you’re right, that we haven’t talked about.”

He sighs. Haven’t they talked about everything? 

Definitely not the nitty-gritty details, but the most necessary ones, yes. It’s unpleasant to venture into that territory: so many tears that can’t be comforted, so many questions that don’t have answers, so much anger that can’t be remedied because there’s so much that can’t be undone. 

But if she needs a listening ear, she has one in him.

“Like what?” he asks gently, almost wanting to take her hand but she’s so focused on doing a decent job in relieving his pain. 

“Things,” she starts, taking so much of a pause that she stops massaging him. Her words come out slowly, like she’s taking a risky step for each of them. “Like, between us. You know?”

He holds his breath, because if he breathes then he’s going to hyperventilate. “Really?” he asks with too much enthusiasm, like a bad actor. 

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been a tough nut to crack, Terra.”

He was going to say something dumb like That’s why they call me Terra but there’s a significance to her voice that calls for serious attention. 

“I don’t…” Maybe he should be honest this time? “I don’t know what to do or say.”

Aqua works down his forearm, feeling for signs of inflammation, bulges, hardness where it should be more soft, before gliding her hand over his. Rubbing his knuckles with her thumbs, taking fingers in hers. She takes all this time to prepare herself.

“It seems, Terra,” she says with a summoned courage, “that this entire time you’ve been waiting for my permission, I’ve just been waiting for you to kiss me.”

It’s so quiet in the room that a pin could be dropped and he would hear it. She’s there, staring at his hand after her words leave her mouth, and he’s there staring at her like he’s been deaf to them.

If he doesn’t do anything now, then Ventus will surely have a good reason to give him a thousand and one lectures. Lesson learned.

He takes her chin with one hand and properly places his other on her waist. His kiss is apprehensive, softly brushing before slowly pressing, learning the way her lips curve against his, where they flatten, where they stay supple. 

Her breath is relieved when she leans back into him, her fingers now in his hair, like she’s thirsty.

It makes him part his lips - ever so slightly - but it’s exactly what she wants, taking him in like she desperately needs to be quenched. Like they’ve been practiced at this sort of thing. 

Except they really aren’t. They hit each other’s teeth. They jerk back from the pain, a line of saliva connecting their mouths. The moment they see it, they scramble to clean themselves up. He will never ever ever speak of this to anyone else. 

“Mmm,” he says like he thinks she’s delicious while she nervously (so many giggles, so many) hides her face in his collarbone. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he says into her hair. 

She lightly smacks his chest. “I was too nervous to bring it up, and I questioned whether you did when we were growing up.” She pulls away, staying close and studying the pores on his nose. There won’t be any dimples there. “I figured when we got back that… I don’t know. Screw it, we’ve wasted so much time.”

A giddy Aqua rolls her lips inward. “Now, I can scratch that off my bucket list,” she says.

He snorts. “Kissing me was one of your life goals?”

He reaches for her notebook - there has to be some sort of confessional in it. But slick Aqua, Master of Evasion, catches it before him and casually tosses it somewhere where the glow of the fireplace can’t reach. 

She kisses him on the cheek, like it’s compensation.

“I’m okay with that,” he decides.

“You’re okay with us?”

“I’m more than okay with us, don’t kid around with me.”

“Good. Should we tell Ven?”

The answer he wants to give is yes. “He really wanted to be our matchmaker, though.”

She snorts. “We could let him think he did everything.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Aqua takes one more look over his face, something new like excitement in her eyes, like she’s found faith. She takes his other hand, the one that hasn’t been massaged yet. “Let me help you with this one.”

“No, wait.” He holds her tighter around her waist, not wanting to put any distance in between them for now. “Stay here.” 

He lets her take his hand anyway, like they’re preparing to waltz in the couch. But he takes the lead this time, and there’s no reason to move just yet, just let them breathe into their bodies and let the gentle warmth from the fire calm his muscles first. He asks for more kisses, and she responds in kind. It takes time before she berates him to Give up his other hand, he needs it massaged before he gives in and sacrifices the cuddles - at least for now.

***

Notes: The headcanon where Terra has dimples were birthed by Lyssala, it’s her trademark Terra. <3

[dearmyblank]

to sitra

i’ve always wondered if id ever get the chance to see you again and…a chance to tell you how sorry I am. And tell you how much I still love you. i have imagined for myself a way for me to fall back in love with you.. but how do I do that, if i never stopped loving you?

Making the decision to walk away from our relationship was the scariest thing i ever had to do. I wanted to do something good. And I wanted to save you; from some of the pain. Maybe for a short while I didn’t save you from anything. Maybe you lived with the pain every day until you didn’t. I blame myself for thinking I knew what was best for you. I blame myself for thinking i knew what was best for me; when it was you that was best for me. I don’t believe that being in love absolves you of anything. I no longer believe that all’s fair in love and war. I’d go so far as to say your actions in love are not an exception to who you are. They are, in fact, the very definition of who you are. But It’s very easy to rationalize what you’re doing when you don’t know the faces and the names of the people you might hurt. It’s very easy to choose yourself over someone else when it’s an abstract.

I’ve got a lot of good inside me. A lot of pain, too.. about the past, about you. I wrote this because i don’t want to be living with regret. You can only forgive yourself for the mistakes you made in the past once you know you’ll never make them again.. I went back to the graveyard a few times and i sat there and wished things had happened differently, but I can’t just wish away the bad stuff. I have to think about all the good stuff I might lose, too. I couldn’t lose the thought of you. I truly believe we were meant to love each other. I needed a chance to remember that. I’m not saying we’re gonna be together. I don’t know that. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll miss you so much, i’ll barely be able to move. I’ll feel i have no purpose… no reason to go on. But there’s nothing to do but wait. Wait and it’ll get clear to me. i’ll get on with my life.. Just as i have. I think I have to believe that life will work out the way it needs to. If everything that happens in the world is just a result of chance and there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it, that’s just too chaotic for me to handle. I’d have to go around questioning every decision I’ve ever made, every decision I will ever make. If our fate is determined with every step we take … it’s too exhausting. I’d prefer to believe that things happen as they are meant to happen.

i cannot just un love you. that i know is the hardest thing i have ever tried to do. I have looked in so many other girls to stop it. Protect me from it. But I’m young.. It’s not just that you make me a better person. You do, but, I impact you too. I challenge you, surprise you. I make you question your life, beliefs. anybody you date after me is different. Their love is pure and they’ll always be good for you. But i’m either the best thing for you or the worst. We had the best and we’ve been through the worst.. now i want forever. if you love someone, if you think you could make them happy for the rest of your life together, then nothing should stop you. You should be prepared to take them as they are and deal with the consequences. Relationships aren’t neat and clean. They’re ugly and messy, and they make almost no sense except to the two people in them. That’s what I think. I think if you truly love someone, you accept the circumstances; you don’t hide behind them.

We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has only happened once. It was a once in a lifetime thing. I hate to think it, but I bet it’s true. It’s too bad for us that our once in a lifetime happened when we were too young to handle it. And that’s why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I’ll never forget a single moment of it. I still remember every story you told me. Whether it be about your family, your past, your friends.. I know it all. But I tell myself that I know you, and then when I think about it, I realize that I don’t. Not anymore. The scariest thing about distance is that you don’t know whether they’ll miss you or forget you.

When you chose him, in time the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every girl I met in the next few months, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I’d write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you’d gone on with your life and I didn’t want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were. I didn’t ever want to lose that. From the moment i saw you i knew that I loved you. I also knew that I would never fall back from that love, never try and never want to. I never reached out to you but i’ve loved enough to know that love isn’t selfish and that love is kind. Most nights it took everything in me to not message you. I want you to be happy. But I also know that’s not true, not fully at least. And part of loving someone, part of being the recipient of trust, is telling the truth even when it’s awful. I could only imagine what you must’ve thought of me and i was scared of what you might tell me. When you chose him, that initial anger I had felt turned to sadness, and then it had become something else, almost a dullness of sorts. Even though I was constantly in motion, it seemed as if nothing special ever happened to me anymore. Each day seemed exactly like the last, and I had trouble differentiating among them.

Every now and then, I’d meet someone. And I think that we were getting along great, and suddenly I’d stop hearing from them. Not only did they stop calling, but if I happened to bump into them sometime later they always acted like I had a virus. I didn’t understand it. And it bothered me. When i saw you, you still, all these months later, shine brighter to me than other people. Even after I moved on from you, I was never able to extinguish the fire completely, as if it’s a pilot light that will remain small and controlled, but very much alive. Every good thing that has happened to me, I wanted to tell you. And every bad thing..I wanted you to hold me. And when I was alone at night, I wanted you and I cried for you. But the thought of you, always put me to sleep, even when i was losing my mind. Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness. I find myself searching the crowds for your face.. I know it’s an impossibility, but I cannot help myself. You were always like coming up for fresh air. It’s like I was drowning and you saved me. It’s all I know.

With time, it got harder and harder to keep blaming the girls that i came in contact with, and I eventually came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with me. That maybe I was simply meant to live my life alone. But that’s just it.. i would stop hearing from them because although my head was in it.. my heart wasn’t. You know I never had anything close to a real relationship since you. One girl, I really liked, but she left. Or I let her leave. I should have made it work, but sometimes it’s easier just to let things fall apart. It was almost as if i wanted it to fall apart. I met her and it was an amazing distraction from you. It was a frivolous; not having any serious purpose or value, and fun and insane and highly unrealistic..and i liked her..but i loved you. They say your first love is everything all at once. A love so big, so strong, it never dies, never fades, never loses its electricity. The kind of love you fight for. I’m just going to do my best and live under the assumption that if there are things in this life that we are supposed to do, if there are people in this world we are supposed to love, we’ll find them. In time. The future is so incredibly unpredictable that trying to plan for it is like studying for a test you’ll never take. I’m OK in this moment. I don’t need to find the perfect thing all the time. Just need to find one that works, and go with it.

There was a point where i just wanted a chance to see you and to talk to you. To heal a little. To love you again. People spend their whole life looking for that and they never find it. And i wanted to be the lucky one that did. No matter what happens, Sitra, I want you to know how grateful I am. because at the end of it all…l get to say I know what it’s like to have loved someone. Truly love someone, because l’ve loved you. Looking at you now, recalling what it used to be like between us, how I liked myself around you, how I felt good about the world and my place in it with you by my side, how I ached when you chose him, I remember what it feels like to truly love someone. For the right reasons. In the right way. When I see you again, I’ll believe we’ve been given a second chance. That the universe has decided to give us that. You may have commitments, I understand, and you may want to keep them. I can only love you more for that.

I was reading about different theories about the universe. I was really taken with this one theory that states that everything that is possible, happens. This is happening every second of every day. The world is splitting further and further into an infinite number of parallel universes where everything that could happen is happening. This is completely plausible. It’s a legitimate interpretation of quantum mechanics. It’s entirely possible that every time we make a decision, there is a version of us out there somewhere who made a different choice. An infinite number of versions of ourselves are living out the consequences of every single possibility in our lives. What I’m getting at here is that I know there may be universes out there where I made different choices that led me somewhere else, led me to someone else…And my heart breaks for every single version of me that didn’t end up with you.

So here i am writing this to you because If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it will cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it and you don’t turn back. If I simply ignored the feeling, I would never know what might’ve happened, and in many ways that’s worse than finding out in the first place. Because if i’m wrong, I could go forward in my life without ever looking back; over my shoulder and wondering what might have been.I think… that when it comes to us, anything is possible And you are the love of my life. Even if we both move on with other people later on in life.. i know that we’ll find our way back.. I would be lying if i didn’t hope to see you again someday. Just know that when we were together..it was the best of my life. I love you. I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, everyday we were together, was the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours. You were my best friend, as well as my lover, and I did not know which side of you I enjoyed the most. I treasured each side, just as I have treasured our time together. I loved you so much it sometimes burned in my chest. I know what it means to miss you. and I don’t ever want to feel that again. As I write, I am struggling with the ghost of someone I loved and lost. I now understand more fully the difficulties people were going through, and I realize how painful it must have been for them to move on.. especially when they still love. I don’t want you to date other people. This may not be enough for you, but I’m trying here so I don’t want you to date anybody but me. That’s it. Except I’m scared as hell to want you. But here I am wanting you anyway. And the fear means I have something to lose, right? And I don’t want to lose you.. not anymore then i already have. I believe that we can be extraordinary together rather than ordinary apart. I can live without you, but i don’t want to. I don’t ever want too. I love who I am when I’m with you, Sitra. You are my dearest friend, my deepest love. My first love. You are the very best of me. You have always been it for me.

forever alisha.

[weabbynormalblog]

Keep strong...

I've had this message on my board all week. So I must of looked at it more than a dozen times since then. What does it mean, what am I trying to say? I stare at it, percrasting not putting laundry away, but washing the floor instead. I struggled with it, the grammar and text of the sign. Should it "be strong" or "stay strong"? Why did I decided in "keep strong" versus "be strong"? Strong can refer to physical and mental strength. Staying with the program that's the "keep" part and the "strong" part is not giving it up for good.

At my worst, it was tempting to end it all. I also wrestle with cutting behavior and body numbness. It isn't easy being me. I know I can change and heal; I've done it before. I am strong. I overcame my dyslexia by the time I was 25. I have over came back injuries, 4 times now in my life and still healing from the last time. I was in a wheel chair for a year due to a frozen sciatica. Ive had successful shoulder surgery too. I gave up smoking over 20 some odd years now. I've survived and recovered from a nasty divorce, lost business and financial ruin. I've also lost 200lbs and avoided diabeties. I thought I had seen it and done it all.

Now I'm a brain injury survivor with chronic pain and fatigue. I'll get through this and so will you!

Can you keep strong and have the ability to ask for help when needed? If you're an over achiever like myself, your pride takes a bit of a dip in having to ask. I know, it's hard to be the one needing help. Especially if it was the other way around before. Now it's time to get past it! It's ok that we need help with some tasks, and that there are things we don't know how to communicate. Then there's things that I can do that others can't. One of my best gifts is my creativity. I can make something out of nothing. Whatever a sweater boom there it is, a minion pinayta for a party, a desk organizer, a bird feeder; some people can't even visualize it, never mind create it. Even Greta Nuremburg speaks of her handicap as a gift. It let her cut through the bullshit to form a direct line to help climate change. There's a certain stubbornness that seems to develop with learning disabilities/brain injury/mental illness etc. For me I'm sure its a coping mechanism. Its my brain working out how to make sense out of all this data. It gets overloaded at the strangest times, it seems. Still lots of mystery in my head. As a person that has difficulties decoding, speaking and hearing, sometimes adapting means putting myself in the middle of everything. I need to arrange things so that I can understand and communicate better, which isn't always possible. I'm fortunate to have a person to help when I need to get groceries or run errans. I'm still too limited with my mobility to drive most days. For everything else I do more with less. I can't hear on the phone. Add accents of any kind to conversations like West Indian, British, French or German... It's the worst for me and then we play a game show called What did you say? I'll take M as in Michael please. I dont do phone calls on days that I'm not up to the task. Forget everything if I have a migraine or my pain is past 6 and I had a rough night. Phone calls, get them out and done first thing in the am. I don't play telephone tag either. When leaving a message state a day and time that works better for them to reach you. I do everything I can possibly do with text messages and email. I process information best like this, the written word. Yeah, I'm not much of a conversationalist these days in person, unless its 1 on 1 or maybe you need a monologue or speech delivered? While writing offers some communication relief theres still grammar errors and spelling mistakes, but more or less writing is stress free for me, even enjoyable opposed to trying to follow a conversation between 3 or 4 people and remember names.

On bad brain days all my disabilities can be too much; then with the chronic pain and fatigue on top of that? Just kill me now? Or maybe now? Screw going anywhere! Ever! It's a head in a jar rough day, my body doesn't respond well to anything. Walking and talking is over ratted at this point; all I can do is rest. I feel defeated by my own body. See you have to "Keep Strong" even when your body can't. So no deal, less urgent tasks fall to the wayside. Sorry I got to bail out on that date again. In the moment I just want to give way, let it all go and become a gelatinous mass that can ooze up and down the stairway, absorb nutrients by oozing on them and Ah...don't move just emit blob like behavior.

Recently I joined the local Chronic pain and fatigue organization, there is no brain rehabilitation in my area, so much for Medicare. I'm so grateful that this .org exists. It's great when I can get out to the activities. The Yoga, it was great! Low impact just what I needed. I was in bed for 2 days after that. This Thursday Yoga came and went with my sadness. I did my at home version instead. Today again is not one of those going out days. That's perfectly fine with me. I know when I'm not good with other people or getting around. There's no point in being angry, tired, frustrated and in pain.

So when faced with "keep strong" laying in my bed. I know that caring for myself is not giving in to limitating beliefs but allowing myself to becoming stronger in the long term by understanding and treating my physical limitations today instead of making like the other regular sheep. I still meet my short term goals on stretching, hydrating and eating well. The basic chores still gets done. You need to remind your self that resting is a part of the healing process. This part is about concentrating on my health and supporting my own recovery. No one can do that for you. Understanding our limitations is not a weakness! Adaptation by trial and error. What works, what doesn't and concentrate on what does work for you. Forgive yourself for not being up to task. I know it's hard to believe that it's is a gift. It is a strength and a gift to be able to face the tough stuff. We get to see the world we live in another way opposed to those entrenched in the rat race. It's not about fitting in society. It's about taking your space, finding your power and place; just as you are. I no longer feel that I'm missing out in life. I'm working on healing myself. I haven't lost the war, I'm just taking a breather. So go on ahead, I'll catch up eventually. This dang boulder won't stop rolling down the hill. Hold on, I'll go get another boulder to stop this one...

[heysnowflake]

Deep Questions Tag

1.       What’s one thing you’d like to change about yourself?

If I had to choose, probably the fact that I overthink everything? Though it does come in handy, it normally just stresses me out.

2.       Are you religious? If yes, what is your religion?

I am agnostic. My belief personally is that anything is possible. I will put faith into believing everything until it is proven otherwise. I respect everyone’s beliefs of course, but I’ll admit that there are some people out there who are so completely ignorant and don’t believe in anything. And I just think that’s a sad life to live, personally. What’s life without wonder?  

3.       What was the best phase in your life? And what was the worst?

2015-2016 were probably the worst two years of my life, looking back. And I think 2012-2013 were the best.

4.       Are you the person you’d be when you were little?

To be honest, I’m constantly chasing my idealistic self. When I was younger, I pictured myself as who I was when I was 18. But when I was 18, I pictured myself as who I am now. And now, I feel like I am really close, but not quite there. I feel like it will always be that way.

5.       Who is one person you would talk to about anything?

The one person who matters the most to me: my best friend

6.       Have you ever lost someone close to you?

I lost my two dogs that I grew up with from age 4 in the span of two months- that was brutal. Then, a couple of years ago, a friend of mine passed away. That was difficult too. I still have his top he lent me one time.

7.       Have you ever had your heart broken? Have you ever broken someone else’s heart? As someone who has never been dumped, I’ve always been the one to break up with the person, I feel like I must have broken at least one heart, thought they have never said anything to me. I personally have never had my heart broken by a guy. But my spirit? Absolutely.

8.       Do you believe in second chances?

Yes. I think you’d be ignorant not to. Unless they had done something truly unforgivable.

9.       What’s one thing people always misunderstand about you?

Because of the way I portray myself, people always assume that I’m always OK. And most of the time, that is true. But there are periods when I am truly down and only a couple of people in my life can actually notice that. I try to stay positive as much as I can, stay organised, do well, but that doesn’t always mean that I’m OK 100% of the time.

10.   What is your biggest regret in life?

Not being a good friend a couple of years ago.

11.   What things are standing between you and your complete happiness?

The hours that I work. I genuinely adore my job. In so many ways, it’s my perfect job. However, at the moment, it is all I do. Literally. Tonight will be the first time I have seen my one friend that I have in two months, and she lives a five minute drive away. Over the Christmas period, I will be sitting down with my boss and working this out in a way that can benefit both of us, because I don’t want to leave. But if things carry on the way they are, I can’t stay.

12.   If you lost everything important to you tomorrow, whose arms would you run into in order to make everything OK?

My mum’s.

13.   Does the most important person in your life know how much they mean to you?

I’d like to think they do. Because I tell them every day.

14.   If you could send a message to the entire world, what would you say to everyone?

I would tell them “You’re not alone. Treat others the way you want to be treated. Just be nice, it’s so easy.”

15.   If you were going to die tomorrow, what would you spend doing today?

I would firstly cuddle my dogs, laugh with my mum, have a deep conversation with my best friend and tell my dad thank you.

16.   How would you describe yourself in five words?

Bubbly, overthinker, sarcastic, bottler & curly.

17.   What opportunities have you not taken that you regretted not taking?

I think I’ve actually taken every opportunity I’ve been given, I’m not usually one to say no.

18.   What would you do differently if you knew no one would judge you?

I would sing louder.  

19.   If you could ask one person a single question and they had to answer 100% truthfully, who would ask and what would you ask them?

I would ask my best friends’ parents what they think of me now compared to how I used to be.

20.   If you could start your life over, what would you do differently?

Probably study for exams earlier.

21.   Are you currently holding onto something that you need to let go of?

Not at the moment, I’ve literally just let go of everything I’ve had bottled up in the last few weeks.

22.   Are you living or just existing? How do you know?

At this time in my life, I feel like I’m just existing but starting to remember to live again. I think you know you’re not living when you’re not being inspired by things and inspired to do things.

23.   What was the last thing you did that was really worth remembering?

Going to Disneyland when I was 21.

24.   What do you want most of life?

To experience, to be stable in all aspects and to move into my own place with my best friend.

25.   If you had one year left to live, what would you want to do in the next 12 months?

If money weren’t an issue, I would travel all around the world with my best friend, experiencing everything life has to offer. Ending it in Disneyland.

26.   If you could get one wish to come true, what would that wish be?

The same wish I always wish for: for my brother to be cured of his autism.

27.   When you think of home, what comes to mind?

My floor carpeted by dogs.

28.   What scares you the most?

Failure.

29.   What is your greatest strength? What is your greatest weakness?

Strength: being able to see the good in even the worst situations and be able to argue both sides of the case, Weakness: overthinking

30.   What did life teach you yesterday?

That you need to live it.

31.   What have you done in the past week to make someone’s life better?

I got one of the dogs I look after to finally eat more food after being so poorly and my boss was really grateful.

32.   What makes me special?

The same thing that makes everyone special: there’s no one else like me.

33.   What was a time that you did not speak but should have?

I should have told the police as soon as I was raped but didn’t. And now five years later, I’m living with those consequences and only a handful of people in my life know.

34.   What would you want the next five years of your life to be like in a single sentence?

Full of milestones, hard work paying off, laughter, and nights to remember.

35.   If you knew when, where and how you were going to die, would your life be better or worse?

Probably better. Because knowing when would mean I could live life to its fullest with no fear or worry.

36.   What would life look like for you if you never wasted another minute of it?

I’d probably have a driving licence and a tidier room.

37.   Do you consider yourself to the be the villain or hero of your story?

I think I’m the anti-hero of this story.

38.   How much do you love yourself?

Currently, the most that I have ever have.

39.   What or who have you given up on?

Most men. I’m sorry to the decent guys left but most of your gender is pulling you down.

40.   Who are you really? Deep down, who are you really?

In reality, to my core, I am a woman who often forgets to be a woman and is just taking life as it comes, one day at a time.

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/november-2019-energy-report/

November 2019 Energy Report

November 2019 Energy Report

By A Gift From Gaia

Translating the recent codes we have been receiving has given a super expansive view of how the month of November and the following months are going to unfold and to say we are about to receive more light than ever before would on the one hand be obvious, we are of course evolving which means we exist within an ever increasing spiral of love, but on the other hand I am aware there will be many hitting the WOW frequencies, how that wow transpires of course is dependent on your current octave and what mirrors are required to be seen, I love witnessing the wow spectrum, the low octaves are a “wow, are you serious” as freak twists and turns appear and then there are those who experience the wow frequency in the higher octaves as they begin to see what they perceive as more aligned experiences coming forward, and once the wow spectrum has been spent we move into the “ah yes” space where there is zero reaction as we flow in a peaceful joyous frequency and we respond, through choice.

I spent many years of the awakening in the WOW spectrum and would always jump in, led by dreams and what I believed to be guidance however I realise now it was resonance to my true frequency, the core frequency, the frequency that hides behind ALL and anchors the beliefs and programming firmly in, which is always different to the frequency we THINK ourselves in, but this vast spectrum and the many years spent here has taught a lot, it shares the keys to attachments and it shares the keys to understanding the language of the body and for this half life experience we are so grateful as the realisation and release creates an expansion in our field, an expansion I am to share within the SOUL-AR Alignment Course as the Key is about to be birthed.

Birthing is something we can expect to be experiencing this month, galactic light babies are ready, the contractions have started and many of you who have been focused on the light path may well be experiencing nesting, bloating and contractions, this is entirely normal, check in with the physical and see if there is any language coming up in the discomfort, in other words does it relate to the reality or the programming you are identifying/validating/releasing. When we have these experiences there is a vital key, unconscious thinking will get disgruntled with the uncomfortableness, the conscious being will take the self love to a deeper level and provide the perfect space and environment for the birth/release, this process is the same when we move through the clearing phases, there must be no defense and no judgement of the symbolic messages the body shows/speaks, we also stop using words of suffering and sickness and we fully align to releases, purges, or perhaps its new conversation as you learn to understand, pay attention and action the requests of the body.

With the ever increasing light this month we often experience heaviness and restriction which is often perceived as pain, especially in those, like myself, who continue to do when I know I need to be, even when we reach peaceful, restful, attentive states of awareness there is still more to learn, more fine tuning and you may notice the stress points getting busy, jaw, head, neck, shoulders and stomach act like big batteries that store the tension, and the tension as I said will only be your resistance to the light speed, that’s the thing, as everything speeds up we must learn to slow down the physical, even though the energy will be coursing through, ok so slow down isn’t the right words here, although it is, I feel soften is a better way to describe the surf.

That’s the thing, November is going to be a mixed bag, enough to get many more waking up to how this actually works and seeking out lighthouses with the brightest lights and the safest passage and the first couple of weeks are likely to be the most transformational as we are surfing through the new moon opposing Uranus energies and adding to this all changing energy we now move into a Mars square Pluto stream, which acts like the rubber stamp…..ENTRY – NO ENTRY.

But of course there is always entry, there are the new energy portals we can enter and then there are the looping ones that always look different until you learn to see the patterns and programming, until you are able to own the true frequency, knowing that what will be attracted will be the mirror until the patterns are learned and even with these phases many say well I must need to mirror to attract the mirror and the answer to that is, no, that too is self sacrificing and holds no point, you see once you are aware of the programming and once you understand what is a conscious choice and what is an unconscious choice, where you are being led into peace, joy and a carefree space or where you are exploding in excitement, need, want, and holding the “if I do this” expectation malarkey, then the need for mirrors becomes an unconscious choice, and whilst this may sound complicated its actually so very simple, the first sacred field you enter is that of peace, utter peace, and nothing but peace…..find it.

Patience is something that is becoming topical, patience is a virtue they say, many people pride themselves on being patient but this word needs a little more investigation because patience can also be attachment and expectation, it can also be linked in with enabling and avoidance. Patience with self, that’s a given, however there is often a root into the ego and self avoidance or enabling, slowing the process down unnecessarily highlights the fear of change, the key here is to keep the flow, we are under heavy Capricorn energies, powered by Saturn, our Lord of Time, and he teaches FLOW, his highest octave is Divine Time and he requests we keep this show on the road, nice and steady, progression, and as I keep saying THINK GOAT, tiny goat steps up this steep mountain face we are climbing. Patience out there, well that needs some looking at, lets not forget to wait is to weight and to try again is to lie again and all of this will be felt as the light speed increases, some request to experience Life Force at full speed, I certainly did as the resistance I held to love was huge, of course I was unaware, like most I had been programmed to experience attachment as love and it was a seed grown from lack, it’s a story we all hold and it’s the story we are all erasing, some wake up and complete the process in this lifetime and all else continues the loop until it awakens or is purged by the planet itself, but that’s a whole different conversation.

The Pluto and Mars square will have the wise ready and prepared to release or scrap the old, this could well be a going back to the drawing board energy especially with Mercury in Retrograde however if this is the wave you surf hold these words within, with every wave there is a ripple, a crest and then the most beautiful part when it returns back to the All, meaning there is a process and the quicker this is realised the sooner the reality will provide its reward, let it go, let it transform and watch what comes next, and with these energies intensifying it could well appear as shocking, highlighting the attachment through the high emotional reaction, the moment it enters allow it to dissolve, hold trust, stay patient with self and experience the emotional release and all the data it holds and watch how it evolves into something so much more purposeful, if this materialises as the deprogramming of attachment you may be thinking and feeling some incredible depths but hold the trust, bliss exists in detachment, peace resides in the fields of acceptance and love will grow widely when you ensure the soil is PH Aligned.

If we take the focus that the first half of November will be much adjusting, allowing, accepting, learning to adapt to the frequencies at super fast rates, then the galactic babies we are about to birth by mid to end of the month are going to be big, bouncy and incredibly healthy and this is the magic within this month, in fact I would highly suggest we move the holiday season to the last two weeks of November, take note of this because come December 25th and the eclipses you will no doubt be surfing the WOW spectrum I mentioned earlier, there is going to be so much coming up, attachments, expectations, HUGE insights to prepare for the Tsunami Surf Event of 2020.

This month requires the focus, requires the understanding of how this is all working and fully aligning.

The codes from our Galactic Future Self are entering through the portal that Jupiter is now opening, we begin this year as he passes the galactic centre according to tropical astrology and we receive the highest of octaves next year as he then travels through the constellation of Sagittarius according to Sidereal astrology. As Sagittarius is his home sign this makes this a super happy galactic return to Jupiter, the planet of reward, luck, expansion and he propels from within us the opportunity to spread our wings further and wider, he is the planet of MORE and again there are of course octaves, so perhaps make the use of the time and be more proactive otherwise we could perhaps see the spread appear more like a midriff muffin, laziness is a lower octave mirror.

Asides from the fun, this is again important work, and this requires focus, as I mentioned in a recent report Mercury in Retrograde is playing around in the field next door, he is going to be shouting some controversial comments over the hedge, things that are likely to bring in some self doubt, a pull back to the old ways, letting dreams slip by for another trip on the loop, but if you look closely you are going to see his tongue in cheek. The Galactic Codes are being channelled through our inner Jupiter, then Venus activates in a conjunction, this is pure Divine Galactic Love, this is creation energy, this is your green light to go and Mercury will support you, you will find, hear, receive the inner communication, your inner Mercury will begin to show what it is like to truly align to that inner voice and we are opened wide, more wide than before and we create the next level to the NewBuild we have been working on.

This month is set to be a wonderful transition and the guidance is to embrace everything that comes into your field, the incoming galactic energies hold purpose and to not hold the respect for this would be pure ignorance to the Ancient Future Self, the Unified version of you, being me, being Us as One. Take Self into the most softest spaces, allow the sensitivity to heighten and pay attention to the touch, taste, smell, sight and sound and notice how it feels, peace is the path, excitement or nervousness is the mirror, connect with the body and listen clearly to its needs and wants and realise where it is addicted to out there and return to those spaces and fill it with your loving energy, finding new ways to support those neglected areas and allowing the attachments to dissolve. Jupiter will bring forward a huge influx of light and we now prepare using the transformative energies of Pluto that begin this month, the physical body vibration must be priority and for every release mentally there too must be a physical upgrade which will require underpinning until the new has stabilised, this pattern of expansion takes effort at first but because the codes are that of unconditional love, unconditional doing for self, they stabilise quickly and become the new version or experience, understanding and aligning to how this works is necessary to stop the learning how this works which is a looping effect, why learn something that is already in the awareness, it holds no purpose.

I will connect in with you all as we shift and expand, and this month will hold some super cool tools for me to share with you all. Stay tunes for Big News!

Please place a heart in the comments to help keep the heart beat of A Gift from Gaia pumping in the body of Facebook.

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We only need enough to bridge the gap of the NHS hydrotherapy sessions starting which will be just after the new year. His sessions cost a little under £200 per week, and I can tell you now, just after 3 sessions we are seeing improvements.

Thank you, sending you all so much love

Andrea 💙💙💙

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[apromisetoyou]

Dear Nicole

I am writing this to you now so that our future selves would have something to refer to should we ever need to make a decision about our friendship. First of all, I want to say thank you. For always being supportive of me, or at least never making me feel like I have to change myself for us to continue being friends. That being said, I have changed because of you (through our communication) and it's definitely change for the better. Second, none of my female friends come close to you in terms of your maturity, independence and grace. I wish I could say the same for your humour too haha but that is very subjective. Suffice to say, I still enjoy your funny observations and commentaries (: Next, I feel like we are both able to believe in each other's growth. I don't know about you. I feel very encouraged by your words and you give me the motivation to keep on trying and improving. I know that sometimes I still make the same mistake or carry the same negative thinking, yet with your company, I always manage to feel safe and a bit braver to face up to my own insecurities and expectations from our society. Lastly, I can talk sociology with you and openly share my fears and vulnerabilities without worrying about how you would judge me. You and Chuan Jie are my 2 trusted female friends who I don't mind judging too haha I can always count on you to give me your inputs on sociological issues which I find interesting and sometimes, you would offer another equally valid perspective that challenges my own perspective as well. (tho sometimes, you just talk shit, no robotic babies ok!!! STOP IT) And so, if I were to start pursuing any relationships, I would be silly not to pursue you. You are funny, independent, mature and most importantly, accepting of me. That's why I feel safe around you. Safe enough for me to feel comfortable with any physical interaction with you. It's ok if you don't feel the same way about me because I know that I am not reliable nor mature right now. I know you are learning to discover and hold on to your conception of non-egoistic love. Perhaps, you have also been testing me in your own ways.

Do I see you as more than a friend? All along, I have always seen you as my soulmate! This makes me happy and contented. My soulmate is my witness, an irreplaceable teacher and companion. Yet, at the same time, with all our time spent together, I realised that you have helped me to see, that life can still be as fun, if not more so, post break up. You, Chuan Jie, Arthur, Peng Ean and Guoxian helped me to trust in myself again - to face up to my own doubts after the end of my traineeship. You make me start to look forward to meeting you. You make me feel alive and that life can be rewarding too. And so with your own beliefs and influence, you managed to blur my ideal conception of lover and soulmate. Then is this a confession that I like you?

Perhaps that question reflects a false narrative that we have all been socialised to believe in. Why does it matter whether you like someone or not? Why should feelings be the primary consideration in order for 2 person to start treasuring and relying on each other for support? I only know that if you were to disappear now, my life would lose a lot of its colours. It would hurt a lot for me. I treasure our friendship and I like spending time with you. My concern for you are genuine and I am always grateful for the genuine concern you show me. That is enough for me. Admittedly, there are times where I found myself being attracted to you. But that's not fair since you are the only girl I have been spending a lot of my time with. And I know feelings of attraction come and go - they are fleeting, more so when we are feeling vulnerable. Therefore, if I were compelled to make a choice to choose my partner right now, it would be easy and only rational for me to decide to pursue you based on the above points I have mentioned. Because, I can imagine spending the rest of my life with you. In you, I see the possibility of a non-egoistic love developing between us, based on trust rather than feelings of attraction. Yet, all these are just my own speculation based on what I know and have experienced till now. When it comes to romance, I no longer believe in a right person with some criteria to tick off the checklist, only the right timing. With all that has happened, I do not wish to lose another friend because of a relationship gone bad. I am scared of the pain and loneliness that I have to endure again if I were to lose another of my close friend. Moreover, until you are certain of developing a non-egoistic love through your own efforts and exploration, I do not want you to be affected by whatever I say or feel towards you. That is how much I respect you and the beliefs you hold. More importantly, I still find myself missing Gwen and struggling with our silent friendship. I hope eventually my forgiveness of her choice to move on from our friendship as well as my inability to support her, will help to free myself and acquire peace; while strengthening my resolve to continue seeing the good in her and her importance to me. Following what you shared about non-egoistic love, I think the most important thing for me is to protect the friendship amongst the 5 of us currently. The only way to do that is to be responsible for my own life and choices. There are many days when I am feeling lonely/lost and I just mindlessly turn to porn for pleasure as a way to distract myself. It is in our friendship that I feel most alive/pleasure. That is why I have to learn to discipline myself first, before I consider myself worthy of giving and receiving another person's love. I will love myself, but not selfishly. I will support my friends, but on their own terms. I will love this world, but I will not expect it to change because of me. I just don't wish to disappoint the future me nor neglect the present/past me. 我只是不想辜负将来的自己，但同时也不忽视过去和现在的我。 With that, I just wish to clarify that it is not my intention to mislead you - I am not trying to get us to become more than close friends. Even if my feelings sometimes make me think differently, that perhaps changing our current status quo might be possible/desirable, I will still prioritise our growth together, with you as my one-way soulmate haha. Hence, I will never avoid you or my responsibilities as friends. Just like Gwen, you are irreplaceable to me. So please, don't ever feel guilty towards me for whatever decisions you make now or in the future. Just promise that you will let me know and hear me out? I will never blame you nor will I crumble. You are a rare bird, wise like the owl, free like the kingfisher, hopeful like the oriole - which is why I much prefer admiring the honest you from up close, without trapping you in any way.