#look. do I even think I could handle a master's in writing at an Ivy League?

[thelastspeecher]

apparently one of my cousins was just accepted into a master's writing program at an Ivy League school

and that's why I almost never go on Facebook 🙃

[thestarsoutofyourwindow]

Forbidden Library - The Doctor x Reader

This was written with 11 in mind, but you can easily see it as 10, so it’s your preference! I wrote this as a description experiment, then tried to apply some story to it. I’ve been trying to master character/body language too, so this took a while to write because I just couldn’t settle on anything, so I just gave up. If this does well I may do a part two, and I’ll try to make it more romancy. Word Count: 2,161 Summary: You hear a book fall whilst in the library and go to investigate. You stumble upon a book that answers the questions you’ve been asking yourself for a long time, but you just can’t bring yourself to lie to the Doctor about it. Warnings: Time War heavily referenced, Comforting the Doctor, A lot of description, You find it hard to lie, Reassuring the Doctor.

All of time and space, he said. Wherever, whenever, and home in time for tea.  The Doctor has always been a bit of an enigma to you. You knew practically nothing about him, yet if anyone had asked, you would consider him one of your closest friends. However, whether or not you're the sort to ask questions, you had a feeling he isn't as honest as you'd like to believe.

The first time you had asked him about his people and planet, he ignored you completely, babbling about the asteroid you were supposed to be visiting. The second time you had asked, he dodged around it, giving you a half-arsed response. All he told you is that his race died out a long, long time ago and that there was a war. After that, he excused himself, and you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to him again.

You had to admit, that puzzled you: you had believed it to be a sensitive subject, so of course, you left it there. No matter how curious you were, you're not going to force The Doctor into reliving anything he'd rather not. But sometimes it did keep you up at night. The Doctor had never seemed like the fighting sort, but something about his recount didn't settle right with you. You weren’t sure what. Usually, on those nights where you end up in an hours-worth of conversation with the TARDIS, you would truly realise how much you thought about it. As weird as it sounded, you felt she was listening as she would often click or whirr in response. You felt insane the first time you did it, but the longer you spoke to her, the more normal it felt. You hardly mentioned your conversations to the Doctor, but whenever you did, he only grinned to himself.

"Doctor?" You peeked into the library. It was, and always will be, the most impressive library you had ever seen. There were cherry-wood bookshelves, that stood towering over you, each shelf overfilled with beloved, worn books. The library was like a maze, asides from the sitting area where a few chairs huddled around a fake-fireplace, there was an indeterminable quantity of shelves. The rest of the library was lit up by fairy lights, which looked as if to be a new addition to the systematic chaos, making the already supernal library look even more mystical. According to the Doctor, the TARDIS has full management over the configuration and layout of the bookshelves, sort of like the Hogwarts stairs. There were step-ladders haphazardly scattered throughout the library. There was the occasional ivy plant that had grown and twisted down the bookshelves. One day you had been scrolling through Tumblr, and a post with ivy plants showed up on your feed. You talked about how cool that is to the TARDIS; within the next week ivy sprung up all over the place, including the kitchen. The Doctor made a passing remark about the ivy plants, and you confessed, alongside a frantic apology. He laughed, telling you it didn't bother him.

"Yeah, Y/n/n?" He mumbled, not so much as blinking away from his book. He hunched over it; his legs draped off the arm of the chair due to his inability to sit correctly. He nestled himself in a duvet, and which would be inconspicuous if not for his head poking out. "Have you seen... Woah. Fairy lights!" You smile, looking up at the tastefully draped lighting. "Is this your doing?" The Doctor asks ludicrously, turning to face towards you, gesturing over at the shelves, "I knew the TARDIS liked you, but this is getting ridiculous."

You chuckle for a moment before peering back at him, "I only came here to ask if you'd seen the book I left on the kitchen counter, but if you're going to criticise me so rudely, well I guess I'll go trip over something important." The Doctor grimaced at that, "That's really not necessary, I think... Yeah, I brought it in here with me earlier." He gestured the book out at you, over the back of the armchair. You stepped closer, about to take the book, when he pulled it away, his eyebrows furrowing. "Are you going to do some reading? If so, would you like to, um, maybe sit and join me?" "Yeah, why not?" You marvel, looking him dead in the eye. You walked around the chair and sat on the armchair next to his.

You cosied down and tried to focus on reading. However, your anxieties and considerations began cropping up again. You lost yourself in thought over what the Doctor keeps from you. Peeking up at the Doctor, you noticed his eyelids drooping. You watched attentively; you had never seen him asleep, oddly enough. His head, already tilted into his chest, slipped further. His tousled brown hair settled on his face, and his breathing eased. His grip on the book slackened. You remained there, admiring the sleepy face you had grown attached to over the months of touring time and space together.

Due to the endearing nature of his subtle breathing, you hardly realise the TARDIS clicking to get your attention. A distant thump draws you out of your hypnosis, the sound emanating from deep in the library. You stir noiselessly out of the armchair, as to not disturb your friend, and hesitantly edge towards the direction you assume it originated. You notice a small, cherry wood door in the wall between some bookshelves. Convinced you have never seen that door before, you approach the door. Stopping dead in your tracks for a moment, you take a moment to calm your nerves. The TARDIS would never let you get hurt, at least if she could help it. You reached your palm out towards the handle and, taking the TARDIS's silence for approval, enclose your hand around the metallic knob and twist.

Behind the door was what appeared to be the smaller section of the library, perhaps it's a study full of books the Doctor had just never taken back to the library? From what you could make out through the darkness, and the distinct smell of dust, the bookshelves were similarly themed to the ones outside. Although, these shelves are in a much smaller room, both vertically and horizontally. A desk was facing towards the door on your left, and a beanbag on the floor to your right.

You were about to close the door and leave, ready to call it his study and leave it at that. But as the door was half-closed, it dawned on you that the Doctor had never even mentioned this room, and the room appeared as though it had been undisturbed for a long time. This room would be pretty redundant, and the TARDIS surely would've reorganised the books onto the shelves, right? With that in mind, you re-entered the room, curiosity brimming in your eyes as you notice the book in the middle of the floor. It's TARDIS blue cover stood out like a sore thumb against the crimson carpet, regardless of how dark the room was. As you knelt to pick up the obscure book, the ceiling light flickered on.

"History of the Time Lords: All you need to know." You mumbled as you read. You habitually flip the book in your hands to read the blurb, the grey foiled text read, "From humble beginnings to the vicious politics of the time war, here is everything you need to know about the history of our civilisation." You checked to see if there is a contents page, of which there is. None of the chapters stood out, except for perhaps, Gallifrey Falls. It clicked in your mind that Gallifreyan must equate to Time Lord, at least to some extent. The Doctor had referred to himself as the last Time Lord.

You flip to the chapter and settle down on the floor, considering you may be there for some time.

And by god, you were. You read about everything from the potential causes, to the effects on the rest of the universe. What you paid the most attention to, however, was the Doctors' involvement. For the most part, he stayed out of the war, asides from helping the victims. But whoever had "restored" him, had pinned the continuing deaths on the Doctor and his lack of involvement, which had finally made him give in. The Doctor fought for literal decades on the front line.

No wonder he didn't want to talk about it.

You read on about the sacrifices he made and the Daleks. They always survived, no matter what he did. By the time you had wrapped up two or three chapters, you had worked yourself up. Even if you're not the emotional sort, just the thought of the Doctor having to go through all of that brought you to tears. You kept imagining the burden he must be carrying, keeping from you and Amy. The decisions he has made.

You stood up, the book still in your hands, and make your way back to where you had left the Doctor.

Upon re-entering that section of the library, it took you a moment to realise that your companion no longer huddled in the armchair. There was no trace of him. You hoped he had withdrawn to his room, and took a step towards his chair.  "Y/n!" A hand landed on your shoulder. You recoiled, whirling around to face the weary-eyed Doctor, pulling the large book to your chest, "There-... what's up?" "Nothing, I-I just thought you had gone to your room, is all. You scared me." You exhale a sigh of relief, gently laughing as you spoke. "What have you got there?" He scrutinised inquisitively, eyes pinned on the book you were gripping so tightly. "Oh, It's a book," The Doctor raised a brow at you and rolled his eyes, a smile on his cheeks, and you thoughtlessly added an, "Well, of course, it is, uh, it fell off a shelf in a sort of study room- I heard it and went to see what it was." You handed the book over sheepishly. It wasn't your book to keep, after all. You didn't want to admit it, but a part of you didn't want to lie to the Doctor, either.

He shifted the book about until he could comfortably read it; the moment his eyes darted back up to you, eyebrows curved upwards, smile extinct, you could've sworn something shattered behind his eyes. Noticing this, you couldn't stop yourself from clarifying, "I, I did read a bit of it, quite a lot actually- out of curiosity. Look, I'm, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise when I kept asking you about Gallifrey, and the war- if I'd known the half of it-" You paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his eyes, "Look, If you want me to forget about this, that's cool- I, erm, can just pretend this never happened, and I'll make sure to keep Amy/Donna off your ass about it," "Humans, you're so," The Doctor mutters exasperatedly, gesturing outwards with his hands, before sighing, he puts his hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently, "You know, Y/n. You don't have to stay. I get it, I really do. I killed my entire species, nothing co-" "Doctor. You cannot honestly tell me that it is your fault. I won't sit here and listen to you take the blame for something you avidly tried to avoid. From what I read, you tried to help- you swore to help, to make up for something out of your control," You rest your hands on his upper arm, shaking him gently as you speak, "You did your best, you did what you thought was the right thing, and most importantly, you saved the whole of time and space, again, from the Daleks and the Time Lords." The Doctor hesitated, lips pursing as he looked away. You offer him a hug, and he quickly accepts, his arms wrapping around your waist. You try your very best to make it the best hug you've ever given. You hold him firmly and flatten the back of his hair soothingly as you speak, "Treat yourself the way you'd treat someone else, you know? I know it's been a long time, but I need you to know that I'm not leaving you for doing the right thing." The Doctor took a shaky breath, "Yeah. Thank you." He breathily laughed, "I wish I had met you sooner." You smiled, "Well the day you figure out how, I will have prepared some very, strong words for you." He hummed in affirmation into your shoulder, "I'll have to work on that." The two of you just stood there for a bit, hugging each other. You impulsively touch a kiss against the Doctors temple as the two of you separate. 

[awhitehead17]

Whumptober 2020: Day 23 - What’s a whumpee gotta do to get some sleep around here?

Prompt: Sleep deprivation

Summary: When Tim gets hit with Poison Ivy’s new toxin, he’s forced to stay awake until an antidote is created. Normally it would be easy however since he’s already pulled two all-nighters prior to being affected, it becomes a whole lot more difficult.

Enjoy! :D 

“Okay, so, don’t be mad, but something’s happened.”

It takes all of Bruce’s self-restraint to not let the sigh slip past his lips upon hearing his eldest son’s words. He knew the night had been going too smooth to be true, nothing has happened up until Dick called him through the comms.

“B? You still there?” Dick’s concerned voice travels into his ear.

“Yes, Nightwing, I’m still here.” Bruce answers evenly, waiting for his son to get to the point.

Nothing good ever follows the words ‘something’s happened’. 

“In simple terms, Red Robin’s been hit by Ivy’s new toxin. He’s fine, except not if you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately Bruce does know what he means. Tim is fine physically and not injured however he has a poisonous toxin running through his veins.

“Red’s on his way back in the Batmobile with Robin, not the smartest move I know but Robin was there when Red got hit.”

Bruce finally gives in and lets out that sigh. He wish he could have been out in the field helping to find Poison Ivy, however he’s stuck in the cave behind the computer because of a damaged hip he acquired 3 nights ago, he was in no shape to go out and fight villains.

Ivy has recently conjured up a new toxin one of which takes affects when the body is asleep. When the body is relaxed the toxin begins to shut down the organs, eventually killing the affected in their sleep.

This new toxin appeared two nights ago and has been a headache since. Bruce has had to split the family up into two, one half going out on patrol to find Ivy herself and the other half is mixed between working on an antidote (since it’s new they have not yet got one) and working out what Ivy’s other motives are as there’s reason to believe this toxin is simply a distraction for something bigger.

The fact Tim has now been hit with the toxin brings a new urgency to creating an antidote.

Bruce is disrupted from his thoughts when a familiar engine could be heard echoing throughout the cave. He waits patiently and observes as the batmobile pulls to a stop and two doors open up. The bickering could instantly be heard and Bruce takes a deep breath in order to help prepare himself to be deal with his two youngest.

His sons immediately head over to him at the computer and stand a couple feet away. Damian was scowling, he had his hood up and arms crossed over his chest. Tim had his cowl down and Bruce could see the way his eyes were dilated and how sweat was coating his skin.

“Father,” Damian demands his attention after a moment, “Drake has once again proven that he is incompetent in the field.”

Next to him Tim grits his teeth and Bruce could see how the boy was holding himself back from making the retort he desperately wants to.

“Damian, you’re finished for the night, go get changed and head for bed.”

“But father-”

Bruce’s glare stops his youngest from voicing the rest of his protest. Once Damian is heading for the changing rooms, he turns to Tim. “Tim, I want you to go to the medical bay, let Alfred take a blood sample and then get yourself washed and changed. Once you’re done, we’ll talk.”

Tim wordlessly nods and heads for the medical bay where Alfred was waiting for him. While he waits for Tim to sort himself out he turns his attention back onto his other family members still out in the field. He updates them with the situation and gets reports back in return. By the time he was all caught up Tim had retuned to the computer.

“How are you feeling?”

Tim sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair. “I’m fine, I don’t feel like I’ve been poisoned or anything. Nothing is hurt, well maybe except my pride. It was a stupid mistake and I messed up.”

Bruce leans forward as much as he can in the chair and pins Tim with a firm look. “You do understand the seriousness of this situation don’t you Tim? You may not feel anything right now but under no circumstances, as much as I hate to say it, you cannot go to sleep. We’ll be having a conversation on your performance once we know you’re safe and toxin free.”

Tim rolls his eyes in that typical defiant fashion that teenagers seem to have. “I know Bruce, I’m not stupid. I can help create the antidote. Also, I’m pretty experienced of working without sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“That's great except you’ve already pulled nearly two all-nighters prior to tonight.” A new voice joins their conversation. The two of them look over to see Dick walking towards them, glaring at Tim as he does so.

Upon hearing this Bruce rubs his forehead. So it’s going to be much harder to keep Tim awake than he thought because his son was already sleep deprived as it was. Keeping him awake for another 24 hours or so was going to be difficult.

Tim glares at his brother. “I’ve handled worse. I’ll be fine.” With that he storms off and heads towards the stairs in order to go up to the manor.

Bruce shares a look with Dick. “We’ll rotate people to keep an eye on him at all times. He can’t be allowed to sleep until we can clear the toxin from his body. It’s nearly done now anyway, another day then it should be complete, hopefully.”

Dick nods slowly. “Yeah, like I said he’s already running on fumes so it’s not going to be long until he crashes for good. If you and Alfred focus on the antidote then the rest of us will keep Tim awake. Please finish it soon.”

------

The day that follows is interesting for everyone. Much to his annoyance Tim was being watched like a hawk, anytime he even closes his eyes for more than two seconds someone was there either calling his name or physically shaking him.

This of course leads Tim to being snappy with anyone who was around him at the time, his tiredness was quickly coming through and it was clear he wanted to rest but could not do so.

Dick watches as Tim floats about the manor, going between the kitchen, library, bathroom and his bedroom. They’ve banned him from any form of training, saying that the exercise will tire him out quicker. In result Tim is working on WE reports and case files to fill up the time while the antidote gets made.

Dick joins Tim in the library and silently works on his own files while keeping an eye on his brother. It doesn’t go unnoticed on how Tim sometimes pauses as if he’s forgotten what he’s writing, or the way he stares at the page for a good five minutes before carrying on with the task.

Dick was getting worried because the sleep deprivation was clearly getting to Tim now and it’s only a matter of time before he crashes.

The two of them work in companionable silence until Tim groans and stands up to stretch. He looks over at Dick, “I’m going to get some food, want anything?”

Dick shakes his head. “No thanks.” He watches as Tim nods and begins to head for the door. He’s glad he had been watching Tim because after a couple steps Tim swayed on his feet and without even thinking about it, Dick jumps out of his seat and lunges for his brother. He reaches Tim just in time to catch him before he hits the ground.

Dick lowers them both to the ground and checks Tim over. “Tim, you okay? What’s wrong?”

Tim blinks at him owlishly for a moment and frowns, “I uh, I don’t… God the room just spun like crazy then and I lost my balance I guess.”

“That's the sleep deprivation, it’s really hitting you now. You just need to stay awake a little longer bud. Bruce is nearly done with the antidote.” God he hopes he is. Without any other words, Dick picks Tim up and takes him to the couch, putting him down gently.

Tim slumps into the cushions behind him and Dick feels terrible because he looks so wiped out and awful. He wants his brother to be healthy again. When Tim’s eyes close, Dick reaches out and roughly pats his cheeks. “Hey, none of that, not yet Tim okay.”

Tim noncommittedly hums as he pulls himself into an upright position and leans over his work again. Dick studies him for a moment before deciding to return to his own workstation. As he settles into the seat he sends Tim a look. “I’ll text Jay and see if he can bring in some food for us, perhaps a drink as well.”

When Tim doesn’t respond Dick shrugs it off and sends Jason the message. After that he cracks back on with his own work.

Time goes by and Dick soon realises he hadn’t checked on Tim for a while. He looks over to where the teenager was sat only to feel his heart stop inside of his chest. For a second time, Dick is lunging across the room to get to his brother, who was lying down on the couch with his face pressed into the cushions.

With one hand Dick reaches out to check for a pulse and with the other he scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket. Thankfully there’s still a steady beat underneath two of his fingers but he has no idea how long Tim had fallen asleep for. This was Dick’s fault, he should have been paying closer attention to his brother.

“Dick?” A voice calls for him through his phones speaker.

Dick frantically shouts into the phone while desperately trying to shake Tim awake. “Bruce please tell me you have the antidote ready! Tim’s fallen asleep and I have no idea how long he’s been like it!”

“Yes, it’s just been finished, we’re prepping a needle now. Where are you?”

“We’re in the library. Bruce hurry!”  

“Alfred is on his way. There are precautions however because it hasn’t been tested-”

“Fuck the precautions Bruce! Tim is dying we need to save him!”

Bruce continues to speak on the phone but Dick wasn’t listening. He was too focused on his sleeping brother, worrying about how his body is going to shut down if he doesn’t wake up. Tim wasn’t waking up no matter what Dick tries.

“Master Dick, please allow me.” Dick looks up and is relieved to find Alfred approaching them. Dick shuffles to the side to make room for the butler and watches with an intense stare as Alfred takes Tim’s arm and injects him with the antidote. As soon as it’s administered Dick is asking questions.

“How long until it takes affect? Will it work? What if it doesn’t Alfred?”

A gentle hand on his arm stops him from rambling. “Master Dick, unfortunately all we can do is wait and see. Master Bruce is still in the lab triple checking it over but an estimation will be a few hours or so, especially considering how exhausted the lad is.”

Dick nods his head and takes a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm down and trust Alfred’s words.

The next few hours were awful. Dick could feel all of the anxiety, the anticipation and worry storming inside of him as he paces around the library waiting for Tim to wake up. In that time, Bruce had now joined them in the room along with Alfred and even Jason.

A small gasp soon gets his attention and Dick abruptly stops walking to stare at the couch where Tim was lying. Sparks of hope travel through him as he watches Tim stir and joy explodes in him when Tim’s eyes open up. Before anyone else could react, Dick was moving, making his way to the couch and pulling Tim into a fierce hug.

“God I was so worried! Never do that to me again baby bird.”

Tim’s only response is to loosely hug Dick back while he tries to wrap his head around what happened. Dick ignores it all, loving the feeling of having his brother back and mostly out of danger, they can deal with everything else soon enough.

[blackevermore]

x Secrets of The Lake: Company of Misery and Pain

{ Chapter 1 }

Summary: Vladimir Masters' family tree has always been tainted by secrets swept under the rug. From generation to generation there have been countless reasons the Masters' family had seemed to keep private from the public. Even to this day, Vladimir was no exception. But what was one to do when a restless spirit from the settlement years finally breaks free from restraints and demands you answer for your ancestor's crimes? Vladimir doesn't know. However, Clockworks does.

Notes: We just having fun, rewriting some of the canon, new adventure new characters. I will apologize now for any grammar, spelling, weird sentence structuring in advance. My brain writes faster than my fingers and even when I go back through to reread it I still miss things. Sorry about that!

Word Count: 1693

Usually, there would be an inkling of life that swirled around the Ghost Zone that informed others of each other. Like an unspoken energy communication that told you the mood of the day or even when to stay away. Ghosts of all kinds upheld this unspoken rule since the changing times of Danny’s arrival and the lack of the ghost king. However, as Danny flew around doing a monthly check-up it seemed deader than ever. Danny could feel the energy of others around him but the energy felt timid. Danny knotted his brows and flew lower towards locations he knew certain ghosts to be at. 

He rounded Skulker's island and didn’t see the tech-head anywhere, figure, he must have been out. Maybe with Ember. He then flew by the warehouse but all the lights were cut off which was very unlike BoxGhost and Lunch Lady. Danny looked through the high windows but there was nothing but stillness. Danny hummed in concern and flew off, he wasn’t planning on going too deep into the ghost zone today, but with how awkward it felt, it might be necessary to find out what was going on. As he scanned around him for any sign of a familiar face he finally found one. Youngblood’s ship floated idly in the middle of the zone, Danny really didn't want to be bothered with the little kid but maybe it was his only chance of an answer. So Danny brought himself to the deck of the ship and looked for any sign of the rambunctious kid.

“Youngblood?” Danny called out but received nothing, not even a snicker from a hiding place. Danny called out again in hopes the young ghost would give away his hiding spot but Danny was left in silence. A quick thought crossed Danny’s mind that as soon as he lowered his guard he would be pulled into a game. And that made Danny roll his eyes in annoyance. “God I don’t have time for any of his tricks. This was a bad idea.” Danny was about to fly away until he heard the squawk of a bird.

“He’s hiding inside, he isn’t coming out until the screaming stops.” Youngblood's assistant flew around Danny then perched on the ship’s wheel.

“Screaming? What screaming?” Danny hadn’t heard any screaming coming from the Ghost Zone the last time he visited.

“Recently there have been obnoxious waves of screaming rippling through the Ghost Zone. Everyone has been staying away from venturing outside because of it.” The bird squawked and used a bonny wing to rub its face.

Danny’s brows knotted and he thought for a moment, “Where has it been coming from?” It was best if Danny quickly found out who the ghost was causing trouble and why. Danny wouldn’t say the Ghost Zone has finally found peace in a settling sense. But there was peace in a way that everyone respected one another to a degree without too much hassle. If this new ghost had a problem with said peace, Danny wanted to handle it before it caused a bigger issue. The last thing he needed right now was ghosts leaking out of the portals and staying on Earth longer than normal. The vultures were enough now that Vlad allowed them to do as they pleased.

“If we knew where it was coming from, it would have been dealt with long before you arrived.” The bird rolled its eyes then flew down to float in front of Danny’s face. “I will say some think it comes from beyond the endless paths of the ghost zone. Maybe farther depending on how far you go. Maybe you could find it before it makes everyone’s ear bleed and put a stop to it.” The bird flew away from Danny’s face and let out a few more squawks. Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose, great, he already had a lot to deal with back home and now this. With the little information he got from Youngblood's assistant, Danny started to float up and plan out what he was going to do.

But before he could get far he heard Youngblood's assistant call out to him again.

“As much as the child can be a bit much, he is still my master and I would prefer not to have to see him cry. The screaming reminds him of his mother.” With that, the bird flew back into the small peephole of the ship. Danny took the words into consideration and flew off. Well, this check-up was a mess and now Danny had to sit down and figure out what to do. With his head already swimming with what-ifs and what-nots, Danny made his way back to the Fenton portal. Maybe he could run this by Jazz if she wasn’t busy and get her opinion on it before he ventures out. As he was about to step through the portal the zone started to shake violently. Danny could hear what was coming before it was close to him and he quickly covered his ears. The scream was ungodly and knocked Danny out of balance, he had to hold on to the edge of the portal just so he wouldn’t be knocked in the other direction.

In retrospect, the scream only lasted a few seconds but for the unwilling listener, it felt like stretched out minutes. Danny knew what pain felt like, so many years of dealing with it left permanent scarring in his brain, and this scream was every bit of pain. A sudden wave of sadness peaked in Danny’s heart and tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.

“What the-” Danny quickly whipped his face, looking down at his fingers to see the wetness then back up into the void of the zone. “This isn’t good.” Danny turned around quickly and shot through the portal and closed it. Once he was back home, he changed into his human self and leaned against the lab table and sighed.

“Skulker give you a run around again?” Danny snapped his neck towards the stairs and smiled. His older sister came down the stairs looking over a stack of papers shoved into a thick book.

“What are you doing home, don’t you have some big time exam to be studying for?” Danny made quotations around ‘big time’ and smirked at his sister. Jazz had been away from home for the past 3 years at her top ivy league university in Chicago. But every so often she’d make the trip back up to visit or just to get away from the stresses of being the far smarter person, as she put it.

“I opted to take it early so I could have a long weekend.” Jazz placed her book down on the table beside Danny and crossed her arms with a smirk. “So Skulker?”

“No, something worse.”

“Worse?”

“All the ghosts are hiding from something, there is this ear killer scream rippling through the zone and no one knows where it's coming from.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck and looked towards the closed portal with worry. Although he spent far more time on Earth, the Ghost Zone was a second home to him, he couldn’t help but be sympathetic to everyone in there dealing with that.

“Could it be Pandora?” Jazz asked, Danny quickly shook his head.

“I spoke with her last month and as always she keeps her promise. It’s not Ember, she’s shacked up with Skulker and they’re fine.” Danny thought through all the possible ghosts who could cause a loud enough scream like that but they all cancelled out. Last month's check-up had everyone in the Ghost Zone perfectly okay wherever they were.

“You’re not thinking of going too far to find where it's coming from are you?” Jazz quickly became worried for her brother. He was older, smarter, wiser, and a lot quicker than three years ago. Even at 17, Danny was still her reckless 14 year old brother who chose to save the world. Danny hadn’t gone too far into the zone in all these years. Sure he had been to almost every corner but never too far where their communication broke. With the Ghost Zone being as massive as space there was no telling how far he could go or how long it would take for him to come back.

“I don't wanna think about it but I’m guessing I might have to. I got hit with one of the waves when I was coming out and I can tell by the velocity that it’s not far from the main area but still farther back.”

Jazz snickered, “The velocity? I thought you sucked at physics?” Danny knew she was trying to lighten the mood a bit from all the seriousness. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in a matter of factly manner.

“I’ll have you know staying up late and falling asleep watching space documentaries does teach you things. There’s a Planet X just outside our solar system that is too far to reflect the sun's light so it’s likely we’ll never find it because Nasa refuses to tell us about it.” Danny felt an air of power being able to flaunt his knowledge of space.

“And Pluto is a planet,” Jazz waved her hand in the air to shoo away Danny’s self-righteousness.

“Well duh, he is small but mighty and has a very big heart. Pluto is a planet to me.” Danny chuckled and Jazz shook her head before wrapping an arm around her brother to usher him back upstairs. Danny didn’t protest, he could deal with the Ghost Zone issue when he wasn’t freaking out about a new threat. It was better to figure things out when you weren’t ready to fall over and die a second time.

“Not since 2006, little bro.” Jazz smiled and allowed him to go up first. When Jazz closed the basement door behind her either of the siblings heard the dripping coming from the portal doors. Slowly but surely a puddle of water formed at the foot of the entrance.

[missmentelle]

I just watched the Netflix show You and it's been discussed but I don't really understand - in a relationship, how does one project their own views and fantasies onto another person? How can you tell if it's happening? Is there a certain point where it's normal or it can't be helped? It's happened a lot in the show but I'm having trouble identifying it. Also, I recommend watching You: it's a thoughtful take on how we view romantic relationships as a society and how that can be twisted

I absolutely love that show.  For those of you who haven’t seen the thriller show “You”, it’s about a charismatic but underachieving man named Joe who works as the manager at a bookstore in Manhattan. He meets a young grad student named Beck when she comes into his bookstore one afternoon, and is immediately infatuated with her; he is completely consumed by his desire for a relationship with her, and it becomes clear very quickly that he’s willing to go to extreme lengths to make it happen.  (Mild spoilers for Season One ahead) Joe is obsessed with Beck from the moment he lays eyes on her. But of course, he’s not really obsessed with her - he is obsessed with the person that he wants her to be. He decides - based only on her clothes, the book she buys and a three-minute conversation with her - that she’s a bookish “good girl” and an intellectual, a serious writer who values real literature and doesn’t crave men’s attention. And he’s very interested in that. She’s his Manic Pixie Dream Grad Student, whether she likes it or not. It’s clear from the very beginning that Joe thinks extremely highly of himself, and he feels entitled to a woman who is just as intelligent and sophisticated as he is - when he looks at Beck, he decides that she’s that perfect girl he’s been waiting for all along. Moreover, he decides that she’s equally interested in him - she pays for her book with a credit card, and Joe decides that she did that because she intentionally wanted Joe to learn her full name. And of course, as Joe learns more about Beck, he discovers that she’s not the artsy, aloof writer he had been envisioning in his head. She goes out drinking with friends that Joe dislikes, she has a trashy boyfriend, she posts selfies on Instagram, and doesn’t actually do any writing. But instead of deciding “oh wow, I was super wrong about this girl, I definitely got carried away”, Joe decides that the REAL Beck is the girl he fantasized about in the bookstore, and that she just needs his help to realize it. He decides that he knows what’s best for a woman who is a complete stranger to him, deliberately manipulating her life to turn her into more of the person he wants her to be, until... well, you know how it ends. 

When you first start watching You, it can be hard to understand how messed-up Joe actually is. He is the main character of the show, and the narrator. He is also capable of great kindness - he genuinely cares for the neglected child who lives in an abusive household next door - and it kinda feels like we’re supposed to root for him. After all, he just wants what’s best for Beck. He sees who she really is inside, and he knows that she deserves better than the life she has right now. He just wants her to reach her full potential and stop wasting time with people who don’t really care about her... what could be so bad about that?

The problem, of course, is that Joe doesn’t know jack shit about Beck, and he has no right to decide what is and isn’t good for her. She is a grown-ass woman, and he is a stranger she met at a bookstore. Joe claims to have good intentions, but his intentions aren’t the point here - nobody has the right to meddle in someone else’s life behind their back, no matter how much they love and care about them. When you truly care about someone, you respect their choices - Joe has absolutely no respect for the decisions Beck makes, and sees no issues with isolating, stalking and terrorizing her if it gets him what he wants. Joe claims that Beck is miserable, but we don’t know actually know that - he filters everything he sees through a very thick lens of his own self-interest. He doesn’t allow her basic autonomy to choose what matters to her. Beck is not actually a real person to Joe - she is a prize that he wants to win.

Think about the show from Beck’s perspective - you’re an adult, with your own whole, complete life. You have friends, dreams, a boyfriend, guilty pleasures. You make bad choices sometimes, sure, but they are YOUR choices, and you have the freedom to make them. And then you walk into a shop one day and the man behind the counter suddenly decides that you’re his soulmate and it’s now his job to make decisions for you. You barely know this guy, but he thinks he has the right to control your life - he wants to control who you date, who you talk to, and how you spend your time. Imagine doing something as ordinary as paying for a book with your credit card, and having the person behind the counter interpret this as evidence that you want them to Google you and come to your house. The very idea of it is terrifying. 

The plot of You is obviously a huge dramatization, but the same dynamic does appear in real-life abusive relationships. Abusers often have very specific ideas about what their ideal partner should be like, and they believe - consciously or unconsciously - that they are “owed” this person. When they meet someone, they tend to decide extremely quickly that THIS is finally the person they’ve been waiting for all along. They don’t really feel the need to get to know the person as an individual - they assume that they already know everything they need to know about the person, and that the relationship will be effortless. When that inevitably doesn’t pan out because their partner is a real person with needs and flaws, they get angry and the abuse starts to come out - they try harder and harder to control their partner and force them back into being the perfect person they’d envisioned, and they lash out angrily when that doesn’t work. 

Although it’s nowhere near as extreme as what happened in You, I’ve had my own experiences with dating someone who was projecting their fantasies on me. My long-term college boyfriend was several years older than me, and already finished with grad school while I was still an undergrad. As the relationship went on, it became very clear that he was looking for a meek, nerdy girl who would appreciate his geek interests but never try to overshadow him. He strongly encouraged me to do the nerdy thing he approved of - cosplaying, attending conventions, playing D&D - but didn’t want me wearing makeup (I wear winged liner every day of my life), dyeing my hair strange colours (which I used to do quite often as a student) or even wearing my contact lenses instead of glasses (I got contacts the moment I was old enough and haven’t been seen in my glasses since). He was hugely threatened by the fact that I took my academics seriously, and he freaked out when I was accepted to an Ivy League grad school because “it would be so humiliating to have a girlfriend who went to a better school than I did”. He had a very specific vision of the kind of girlfriend he wanted to have, and he was prepared to try to stamp out the parts of me that didn’t align with what he wanted.  It’s okay to have standards and expectations for the kind of partner you want to have. That’s normal. I’d argue that it’s necessary. Speaking from personal experience, life is a lot easier when you expect your partners to have mastered basic communication and coping skills. And sometimes you will need to look for a partner who has very specific traits - if your dream is to have 12 children and live on a goat farm, you need to find a partner who is on board with that goal. It’s also fine to have preferences in terms of aesthetics, interests and lifestyles - we’re always going to have certain things that we find appealing, and it’s okay to be into that. What’s not okay is to have such rigid expectations about how our future partner will look, dress and behave that we can’t cope with not getting our exact fantasy. It’s fine to think that dating a quirky art major with a nose ring would be awesome. It’s not fine to think that dating a quirky art major with a nose ring is the answer to all your problems. And it’s definitely not fine to latch on to the first quirky art major with a nose ring that you can find, and then punish them when they turn out to be a complex human with real issues and not just a living doll. Whenever you’re dating, it’s important to remember that you are dating a real, live human, and not a cartoon character. They are going to grow and change, and they are going to have flaws, off-days and traits that don’t match up with your fantasies. Your punky goth girlfriend is going to have days where she just wants to lounge around the house in her pajamas and watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Your tough, manly lumberjack boyfriend might have a super sensitive gag reflex and spend an awful lot of time on the phone with his mom. We’re all weird, and each of us needs to have the freedom to be our own kind of weird in a relationship - if you find that your desire to be with someone is extremely dependent on their appearance, dress, weight, hobbies, friends, job, etc, and you can’t handle not having control over those things, you aren’t ready to date.  The other big red flag to look for here is how fast someone rushes the relationship. If you’re projecting your fantasies on someone, you don’t really feel much need to get to know them - like Joe, you’re pretty sure that you know everything that you need to know about them soon after meeting. You are fully expecting this person to be the fantasy partner you desire, and so there’s no point waiting to see how the relationship goes - within weeks, you’re ready to move in together, adopt a pet together, and even get engaged. If you’re convinced that a person you met three weeks ago is your soulmate, it’s time to stop and take a hard look at things - you don’t know a person you meet three weeks ago, and you have no idea if they’re your soulmate or not. You are trying to date a fantasy and not a real person.  Hope this answers your question! MM

[lochsides]

evermore: Track-by-Track review

I didn't think I'd be writing another review for a Taylor Swift album so soon after folklore but here we are. Truthfully though, evermore feels more like a figment of my imagination than a real album, and as a result this album has been a grower for me. When Taylor said evemore would be the sister record to folklore, I was curious as to the distinguishable differences between the two, because Taylor wouldn't simply give us the same album twice. evermore is, strangely, both the wild younger sister that's more experimental and the wise older sister with a mature outlook on life. Where folklore was a product of isolation, evermore is a product of creativity and that can be felt in the music.

I’ve written my thoughts and theories on each song, and bolded my favourites, below the cut, if you’re interested. I also included my current ranking at the bottom.

Taylor has been very good at picking leading singles for the folklore/evermore era. willow is brilliantly catchy while maintaining the alternative folk sound that she established in folklore. Her vocals suit the song so well, especially on ‘follow’/“hollow” in the chorus. They pair so beautifully with the mesmerising production. The reason this song is one my favourites is purely because of the rhythm and the guitar. The lyrics are, for once, a bonus. As an entry point to evermore, willow does not ease the listener in, the song instead throws the listener in the deep end — which I feel was intentional, as Taylor said evermore was the product of wandering further into the folklorian woods.

champagne problems is easily my favourite song on this album. Storytelling is Taylor's biggest strength as a songwriter and I think this song is a achingly beautiful example of what an emotive storyteller Taylor is. It would be so difficult for me to pick a favourite lyric from this song but I love how she sets in train in the opening line, "you booked the night train for a reason, so you could sit there in this hurt / bustling crowds or silent sleepers, you're not sure which is worse." The accompaniment is gorgeous and the composition of the bridge is breathtaking. Every time the bridge plays I get chills.

gold rush was a grower for me. I'm still not a fan of the intro/outro but I enjoy the production in the rest of the song once the beat kicks in. I think it's one of the more experimental sounds on evermore but it's very catchy. I won't even talk about how the chorus called me out with "I don't like slow-motion, double vision in a rose blush, I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush."

'tis the damn season is the non-holiday-holiday song that still has a classic sound and production. I know this song is Dorothea's perspective but I get a lot of illicit affairs parallels with this one as well: "don't call me baby" / "you could call me babe for the weekend", "what started in beautiful rooms ends with meetings in parking lots" / "the road not taken looks real good now, time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires".

tolerate it is a hard song for me to review because I literally zone out every time I listen to it. I think it's my brain's way of protecting me from toxic relationship trauma 🙃 but it's another gut-punch track five, what else is new? I mean she literally said "now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life, drawing hearts in the byline, always taking up too much space or time," and broke my nervous system.

no body, no crime is the best country song Taylor has ever written, period. The sirens at the start, the storytelling, the way it sounds like an old-school murder-mystery movie. HAIM on the backing vocals were great, though I do wish they had at least a verse of their own. That's literally my only critique of this song. It's that good.

There's so much maturity in Taylor's outlook on happiness. I connect this song to her tarnished relationship Sc*tt/BMG and how she's happy after leaving but she was also happy during the time she was with them. I really enjoyed the simple addition of the piano and the way it built up to add depth to the production. Taylor's delivery of the line "no one teaches what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him too" really hits me.

dorothea is a really nostalgic, retro school-dance-vibe, kinda playful song with a personality, which I adore. The production is absolutely timeless. I woke up today with the chorus stuck in my head. I think "if you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you know, you'll always know me" is fun word play and I'm a nerd of that type of thing. (Side note: to me, this song feels very reminiscent of her friendship with Karlie Kloss, right down to the "selling makeup in magazines.")

coney island gives me desolate, abandoned theme park vibes. The simplicity of the production only enhances it. It's everything I could've hoped for in a song titled "coney island" and featuring The National. Matt Berninger's vocals are absolutely astounding. What does it say about me that my favourite aspect of this song is the feeling of despair laced into its bloodstream.

ivy is another favourite but what did I expect from a song filled to the brim with longing and mentioning the crescent moon? The instrumentation and her vocal styling is similar to willow. There are also lyrical parallels of "... your freezing hand, taking mine" / "I'm begging for you to take my hand" and "how's one to know I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bone" / "I never would've known from the look on your face" and she echoes both those sentiments in a different way after the respective bridges and I wonder if that's intentional. Knowing Taylor Swift, probably.

cowboy like me belongs in the center of a country/folk/slow blues Venn diagram. It's the perfect blend of the three genres. Marcus Mumford's back vocals sound so good with Taylor's. "We could be the way forward, and I know I'll pay for it" and "the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up" are great lyrics.

I'm not all about the way long story short stars but the song quickly settles into its skin. This is easily the most pop-sounding song on evermore but it's still somewhat experimental in comparison to Taylor's existing discography and I think it's cool that she can find space to experiment within a musical space that she has all but mastered. Say what you will but Taylor Swift knows how to make hits no matter the genre. The lyrics "he's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky and he feels like home" reminds me so much of Call It What You Want.

marjorie gave me chills on the very first listen when Taylor sings about how her grandmother left her backlogged dreams to her. I love that they used her grandmother's actual vocals in the background, that's a really heartwarming detail. This song comes with some really solid advice too. It just feels very personal. I love the way production builds on "what does didn't stay dead" right to the bridge, which is my favourite part of the song.

closure is easily the most experimental song on the album with that the scratch tape sound and those drums. I love the sheer pettiness in her tone and the lyric "don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled" is brilliant. That said, this is probably my least favourite. I think it's a cool song but just not for me.

evermore has some of the most beautiful lyrics on the album. "I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where I went wrong" and "barefoot in the wildest winter" are some of my favourites. I'm not a big fan of the sudden shift in tempo on either end of the bridge but Justin Vernon's falsetto makes up for it. The production is otherwise beautiful.

Note that the bonus tracks are currently at the bottom because they have not been released yet.

[novamm66]

From Earth to Sky - Chapter 5

--

Happy Friday! I am really excited to post this chapter and that it’s Friday!

This is the first chapter were there will be references to the Red Sky in the Morning story line. I am hoping that I made it teasing enough to spark interest as well as not give any surprise twists away.

I hope you enjoy.

—

“Lady Pentaghast, may I have a private word?”

Cassandra eyed the Orlesian lord in front of her with distaste. “No.” The lord gawked at her, and she arched a brow. “You were hoping for a different word?”

“I…” the lord stammered, Cassandra walked away from him. She was tired of the propositions that her family name and title always seemed to come from the nobles she encountered.

She could have left the Winter Palace when Kiaya did after they had stopped the assassination, but Cassandra had volunteered to stay. Their plan of having two Inquisitors was working well; Evelyn was filling the role perfectly. Everyone wanted a dance or a word with the Inquisition’s hero. Any threat to Evelyn was low, but Cassandra wouldn’t feel comfortable until both women were safely away from this viper pit.

Cassandra made her way out to the gardens. Varric was holding court, basking in the attention of a large audience as he recounted the adventures of the Inquisitor, somewhat embellished. Cassandra stayed hidden behind a wall of ivy to watch and listen to his warm, rolling voice.

“With a roar, The Iron Bull slew the rage demon, and the Herald closed the rift with a thunderous clap of power. We had saved the villagers of New Crestwood and allowing the rebuilding of the old village to commence.” Varric ended with a flourish and bowed to the applause from the crowd around him. Cassandra barely caught herself before she joined in and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Varric graciously declined the calls for another tale, and the group started to break up, with a few hangers-on.

“So, tell us Master Tethras, is the lovely Inquisitor spoken for?” The lord’s question had Cassandra rolling her eyes. It was a popular question tonight.

“My Lord, you are not the first to wonder that.” Varric was smooth as silk, and it brought a smile to Cassandra’s face.

“And what of your heart, Master Dwarf?” A lady purred, brushing her hand across Varric’s neck in a way that made Cassandra bristle.

Varric smoothly ducked away from her, bowing as he answered.

“It is indeed, my lady, and the rest belongs to my writing. Now, if you will excuse me, I am simply parched.” Varric quickly slipped away and masterfully vanished into the thinning crowd. Cassandra froze, trying to track where he had gone, only to jump when he spoke from behind her.

“I thought they would never let me stop. Can we get out of here? I am about tapped out of civility.”

“But, you manage it so well.” Cassandra was hoping the shadows were enough to hide the colour of her face.

“Even I have my limit, and I am standing on that line,” Varric said.

Cassandra was quick to agree. “Let’s go and find Josephine. This thing must be winding down soon.”

“This is Orlais. I wouldn’t count on it.”

—

Varric hadn’t been able to sleep after leaving the Winter Place. A storm was rattling the windows, and the fizzy drinks the Orlesians had plied him with was making the room was spin. The common room was warm from the fire, and Varric was ignoring the writing he had brought with him.

His job at the ball had been relatively easy, distract and entertain, and drum up support for the Inquisition. He usually would enjoy those things, but worry had proven too distracting. Varric shifted in his chair. Watching the Seeker run into danger without him had burned in Varric’s chest each time.

“I see you couldn’t sleep either.”

Varric turned to see Cassandra standing in the doorway. She was dressed for sleep in a loose shirt and trousers. Her hair was mussed, her braid hung down her shoulder. She was breathtaking. “I- No. Too many windows in this place, they rattle in the wind.” Varric swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Cassandra nodded, and a flash of hesitation crossed her face before it disappeared. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Yes, I mean, no.” Varric sighed, “I would love for you to join me.”

He silently cursed his awkwardness, shifting to hide his embarrassment. Instead of sitting in the chair opposite him, Cassandra settled on the floor at his feet. She leaned forward, hugging her knees before stretching her legs out in front of the fire with a small groan.

“Are you alright?” Varric asked, his voice slightly rougher then he would like.

“Yes, just a little sore. Fighting and standing in those fancy boots were not comfortable.” Cassandra stretched her back, and Varric didn’t know where to look, “and I am drained and a little worried. It was a long night.” She was rubbing her neck, her fingers reaching down her shoulder blade, and without any thought, Varric was reaching forward to rub his knuckles along her spine.

They both stilled for a moment, Varric froze in shock at the brazenness of his hands, but Cassandra hummed quietly and then pressed herself back into his knuckles. His hands began to massage her back, without needing much input from him and Varric floundered for something to say. “What are you worried about?”

Cassandra made a noise of pleasure when his fingers found a knot, and the sound made Varric’s blood hum in his ears. He was suddenly very grateful the woman was facing away from him. It took him a moment to focus on her answer.

“Kiaya.” Cassandra sighed. “She had more control over the mark then she told us. It was disturbing to watch her use it against our enemies, not only with how deadly it was but also because of the toll it took on her.”

Varric concentrated on breathing slowly through his nose for a moment, which meant he could smell her hair, which was now very near his face. Varric swallowed thickly before answering. “Smudges has a good head on her shoulders. She is unlikely to abuse the mark's power, and it sounds like its no easy to choose using it. Maybe it was a reaction. She’s done that before with her magic.”

Varric was proud of his coherent answer when he was feeling anything but. Lavender and steel floated through his senses. He leaned back to try and clear his head, but that only succeeded in bringing his hands up to her neck and onto bare skin. Varric groaned inwardly; he was done fighting. The heat of her skin against his fingertips was intoxicating, and he leaned forward again, bending lower than before.

“Why did you stay? At the ball? After everything was done?” He asked quietly. He felt her shiver under his hands, reacting to his breathe against her neck and ear.

She swallowed a few times before answering. “I wanted to stay.” Her voice shook, “with -“

The door banged open, and the whirlwind that was Sera and Lyra burst into the room. Both were very drunk and headed straight for the bottles in the cabinet on the far wall, but Blackwall, who entered behind them, seemed less so.

Varric had snatched his hands back, and Cassandra was on her feet and out the door before the girls noticed. Varric wasn’t standing up any time soon, so he picked up his papers again and glared at Blackwall as he sat down opposite Varric. The two girls, more drinks in hand, flopped down in front of the fire.

“Wait,” Lyra looked hazily around the room, “wasn’t there someone else here?”

Blackwell coughed, a poorly disguised laugh, and Varric answered quickly. “You’re drunk, Chimes. Must be seeing things.”

Lyra pouted. “I’m not that drunk.”

“Ooooh, let's get so drunk we see things!” Sera exclaimed and immediately swallowed half the contents of the bottle in her hand. The two dissolved into laughter.

Varric shook his head and shot Blackwell a dirty look. “If you’re encouraging this, you’re cleaning up after them.”

Blackwell did laugh this time. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

Varric glared at him. “At the moment, I think you’re a smug bastard.”

—

They were close to the Shrine of Dumat. The camp was tense this evening, quiet. Everyone could feel the hum of the red lyrium on the night air. Cassandra knew that tomorrow’s battle would possibly be the worse they had seen. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Hey.” Kiaya settled on the ground next to Cassandra. Kiaya was wrapped in a blanket, her boots untied. “Not sleeping?”

“I haven’t tried yet.” Cassandra shrugged. “It’s too hot.”

“And Dorian says it’s not hot enough,” Kiaya said. “Could be worse, could be the Mire.”

“True.” Cassandra looked up at the canvas of stars shining overhead. “How is Cullen handling things?”

“Better then I feared but not great. He’s asleep for now.” Kiaya sighed. ”I am worried that I made the wrong choice of letting him come with us.”

“It means a lot to Cullen to be here. I don’t think you have made a mistake.” Cassandra answered and studied the woman beside her. Kiaya looked tired and worried, but underneath there was a peace and happiness that Casandra hadn’t seen before. “It’s good to see you both happy together. Present circumstances notwithstanding.”

Kiaya smiled softly. “It’s strange, for the longest time, I believed that I was meant to be alone. But now I feel like I have a home.” Kiaya smile turned to a grin, “and I found it in the middle of this mess.”

“How did you know it not because of this mess?” Cassandra asked. She expanded at Kiaya’s questioning look.

Kiaya chuckled. “I didn’t, still don’t. But resisting my feelings wasn’t making anything easier. And maybe it’s selfish wanting Cullen as much as I do while I suspect my days are numbered but facing Corypheus feels less daunting with Cullen to go home to.” Kiaya bumped her shoulder against Cassandra’s. “So, is it really worth denying your feelings for Varric when none of us know how many tomorrows we have?”

Cassandra sighed, looking in the direction of the Shrine. “You make it sound easy.”

“I know that it’s not that simple. Nothing is, but Varric makes you happy, doesn’t he? Is the possibility of future pain really worth not being happy now? But you are right as well. It is both a gift and a curse. Being with Cullen makes facing what I have to do easier, but I regret not listening to my heart sooner, so we could have more time, and I regret what it will do to him if I die.” Kiaya stopped talking an cocked her head. “I’m not helping anymore, am I?”  

Cassandra snorted. “I’m not sure, although I appreciate the intention.”

“Well then, I will call that a win. I just want to see you two happy.” Kiaya squeezed Cassandra's shoulder and started to get up. Cass raised her arm to help her automatically to help her, it was never a smooth transition for Kiaya. “Thanks. I am going to try and sleep again, and you should too, Cass.”

Cassandra nodded, although she didn’t move to get up. “I will. Soon.”

—

[seblore]

everyday i wake up and you still havent posted your evermore rant </3

there u go boo 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

GDBDNSKDJHHDDNDS GIRL................ ok so i very cleverly avoided ranking folklore because every song REALLY HIT and the whole album was just SO.. SO.. yeah. i can however rank miss evermore. i dont want to compare the two album i do not get the point in that. both give off really different vibes. now what i will say is with folklore, AS AN ALBUM, it is just a master masterpiece. The songs flowed amazingly with each other and really held you close the entire first listen. at least thats what I felt like <3 with evermore however, the individual songs are OMG!!! THERE IS LITERALLY NO SONG I DONT LIKE FROM ANY OF THE TWO ALBUMS. but as an album on the first listen i did feel a bit disconnected from evermore which didnt happen to me with folklore. why i think that might’ve happened is BECAUSE taylor is just so brilliant m8.... the MASSIVE contrasting emotions between the songs was too much for my little brain to handle.

Ok so now that’s out of the way dhsjsk time for rankings :) i have no idea where im going to put each song im just going to make it up as we go <3 ill ALSO give you my fave lyrics from each if I remember it <333 (oh and also you’ll notice marjorie isnt here. im sorry but i never listened to it after the first listen because it hits a little too close to home and i dont want to unpack all of that now im sorry! it is a beautiful song)

14. Closure: she popped off <3 she really said dont treat me like a situation that needs to be handled 💃🤙💯 a beautiful song with beautiful lyrics HOWEVER its the first song i couldnt connect with thus it’s down here BUT I STILL WOULD LISTEN TO IT ON REPEAT THO... the last in my ranking but still fucks 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ thats taylor swift 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

13. long story short: i have never been in a relationship ever BUT GODDAMN ‘pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips’ hdjsksksjjddjnBbdns jddd ubebs!:!?:?:$3&39383$hzjs WOAH.... and this bitch really summarized the full 2016 drama with long story short it was a bad time. HILARITY. yeah not much to say here tho this is just the ‘at least one mandatory song to shake your tits to on each ts album’ song of evermore <3 and always remember that if the shoe fits walk in it TILL YOUR HIGH HEELS BREAK WOOH ANDIFELLDOWNTHEPEDESTALRIGHTDOWNTHERA—

12: dorothea: making a lark of misery :D RENt free. i had to listen to ‘if youre tired of being known for who you know you know youll always know me’ 113 times to finally understand it tho 😐 some of us are stupid and illiterate have you ever thought about that miss swift???? anyways TINGTINGTINGINGINGING THE STARS IN YOUR EYES SHINED BRIGHTER IN TUPELO <33333 such an innocent feel good song I LOVE!!!!!

11. ivy: the goddamn here and the hush of mirrorball ARE THE REASON IM STILL ALIVE 😽 another lyrical masterclass <3 ‘id live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time’ IS2G!!!!!!!!!!! anyways what if you cheated on your husband with me and i cheated on my husband with you and my pain fit in the palm of your freezing hands 😳 JK JK 😅 unless...... 🤪😏 hdjsks yeah this song is magnificently cursed and i am in love with it 🧎‍♀️

10. tis the damn season: this song is august but the other side of the coin. august but four months later. AUGUST SLIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE- THE HOLIDAYS LINGER LIKE A BAD PERFUMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... she sounds so pretty goshhh! ‘time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires NOW IM MISSING YOUR SMILE hear me out we could just ride around and the road not taken looks real good now’ is on repeat in my mind. and as always the bridge ::::::::::::::.............:::::::::::::: how does she do this everytime. ‘and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles im faking’ 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ after every ts song i listen my expectations about true love grows exponentially and my chances of finding true love falls exponentially simultaneously ADIEU.

9. willow: she really took the invisible string quartet and put it in huh..................... FUCKED IN THE HEADDDDDDDDDDDDDD. what can i say <3 its just such a pretty song <3 hashtag gorgeous hashtag i cant say anything to its face. WRECK MY PLANS!!!!!! WRECK IT BITCH!!! ‘wait for the signal and ill meet you after dark’ LOVE STORY WHIPLASH. also mate i cant even focus on the song she looks SO GOOD in the music video i—

8. happiness: !!!! what can i say.... one of the best songs of the album hands down. lyrical masterpiece AND musically rich. she really logged into tumblr dot com and typed out ‘THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU’ AND ‘THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOU’ ARE IDEAS THAT CAN COEXIST and logged off...... h8 her and her insanity. the one word i have to describe this song is: picturesque. tis a picturesque song <3 oh and dfbhhffcbhDDVHHTRSDVJK when i heard ‘i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you’ i audibly GASPED and then she says ‘no i didnt mean that sorry i cant see facts through all of my fury’................. i fell out of my chair. IT FELT LIKE AS IF SHE HEARD MY GASP AND TOLD ME SPECIFICALLY THAT NO SHE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT... anyways yeah. ill write an article one day named THE SWIFT DECEPTION OF TAYLOR about how she keeps writing songs with deceptive titles and this will be the opening case 😈🤙 also the fact that this is one of my faves and i put it in number 8 says a lot......

7. evermore: i havent recovered from ‘motion capture. put me in a bad light’. i mean come on the whole goddamn song is a lyrical masterpiece. ‘writing letters addressed to the fire’. IS SHE OK!????????????? i think tf not. beautiful song beautiful arrangement. iver sounded really good too. and lol lol rofl WOOFWOOFbarkbark ‘HEY DECEMBER GUESS IM FEELING UNMOORED’ unmoored definition from google dot com: no longer attached. she doesn’t go back to december anymore. about2 faint oml. long story short: i did not survive. THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE........ what i felt with this song is that she took the quarantine sadness we all felt at least once this year and made it into a masterpiece of a song. couldve been easily the top song on any album except this. no i will not elaborate <3

6. no body no crime: i cannot believe. she teased us with a musical number. this woman teased us with. a musical number. I THINK SHE IS WRITING A MUSICAL BUT I JUST CANT PROVE IT! when she wins that tony 16 years later call me prophetic xoxo. anyways yeah she literally wrote this to flex her storytelling abilities. send tweet 🐥

5. cowboy like me: YEEEHAWWW I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FULL SONG SOUNDS LIKE I JUST HAVE THE BRIDGE ON REPEAT!!!! OMFG!!! the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. AAAA!! ??? STFU. IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS MATE THE WAY ITS SUNG!!!!!!! GUT WRENCHING! the best bridge she has ever written musically. i cant stop listening to it. REALLYYY DID BELIEEEVE I WAS THE ONEEE. STORIESSS ABOUT WHEEEN YOU PASSSEDDD THROUGHH TOWN. y e l l. and then she hits me with ‘now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon.’ L ???? M !!!!! A $$$$$ O “”””” i had to pause it and sit there for 10 minutes to take in what i had just heard. case closed critical hit sustained yeedhawd.

4. tolerate it: i cried. the only reason it’s not 1 is because it hurt me too much. WHAT THE FUCK YOU MF YOU ASSUME IM FINE BUT WYD IF I BREAK FREE AND LEAVE US IN THE RUINS???? TOOK THIS DAGGER IN ME AND REMOV— m8 this physically hurts me everytime. if its all in my head TELL ME RN. aghhh aRghhhhhhh. pain. and lol she broke down sleep to its bare essentials ‘breathing with your eyes closed’.

3. ??? coney island: i know it’s a bit of a controversial top three but WHO CARES 🕴this is solely here for ‘AND IM SITTING ON A BENCH IN CONEY ISLAND wondering where did my BABYy GO’ im shaking. my bed is shaking. my body is shaking. my pupils are shaking. THE WAY SHE SINGS IT OH MY GOODNESS ME i have to lie down gimme a sec. ‘and if this is the long haul howd we get here so soon 😟’ SCREAM. and when i was hearing it for the first time and she said ‘sorry for not making you my centerfold’ i was like yeah and?? so what?? and then she hits me with ‘over and over’...... so she didnt make him/her/them her centerfold over and over !!!!!!! she is sorry she didnt do it over and over!!!!!! mannn.... the chorus.. i shall not speak. i am held at gunpoint i CANNOT SPEAK. the bridge tho dhdnsksksjsb I CAN SPEAK AND I SHALL SPEAK. BITCH WENT OFFFFFFFF. <3 this is the apology she deserved from her exes which she never got so she wrote it herself. podium. grey skies. birthday cake. ACCIDENT. im laughingggggggggggg <///3 and yeah so overall it is a really yummy song with yummy vocals and yummy arrangement 9/10 would recommend. also!! life lessons kids life lessons. disappointments? SIMPLY CLOSE YOUR EYES AND PRETEND YOU DO NOT SEE IT YAAAAAAAAAS

2. gold rush: ETHEREAL!!!!!! The last time i felt like this™️ whilst listening to a song was with mirrorball <3 the production of this song omg omg omg LOVE 💃 but what propelled it to number two status was the ‘i dont like slow motion double vision in ROSE BLUSH/ i dont like that falling feels like flying till the BONE CRUSH’ imagine how fucked in the head a person needs to be to rhyme rose blush with bone crush. yeah i have nothing more to say really this song is extremely gorgeous and ‘eyes like sinking ships on water so inviting i almost jumped in’ / ‘walk past quick brush’ ?:!:!&:8483 F A V E <33333 and the transition transmission transfusion from ‘... gray old tea cuz itll never be ᵍˡᵉᵃᵃᵃᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʷⁱⁿᵏˡⁱⁿᵍᵍᵍᵍ’ MADAME

1. champagne problems: are we surprised? ARE WE REALLY SURPRISED? when listening to new albums i normally listen to it at one go in order. i stick to that rule. HOWEVER after many years of my solid album listening self made rule tm i finally broke and immediately replayed this mf song after listening to it once. ‘you had a speech, youre speechless/ love slipped beyond your reaches’???? stfu???? VILE. PUNISHABLE. DEROGATORY. and welp the entire bridge ...... .... ........... what can i say. And the parallels to miss all too well??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???? your SISTER splashed out on the bottle- left my scarf there at your SISTER’s house 😐 she’ll patch up your tapestry that i SHRED- maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you TORE it all up 😐 your MOM’s ring in your pocket- your MOTHER’s telling stories bout you on the tee ball team 😐 November flush and your FLANNEL cure- PLAID shirt days and nights when you made me your own 😐 wHAT A SHAME SHE IS FUCKED IN THE HEAD IS2G........... and also why would she not rhyme POCKET with LOCKET?????? why with wallet???????????? slant rhyme why????????????? AND THE NOTE THIS MF SONG ENDS ON..... FUCKED IN THE HEAD

THATS IT. i really sat here and did this for the past 2 hours huh...... hhdjsms anyways LONG STORY SHORT: I HATE ONE INSANE WOMAN AND HER NAME IS TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT. GODSPEEED 🏃‍♀️

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, SIDNEY! You’ve been accepted for the role of KATHERINE with an approved FC change to MELISA PAMUK. Admin Rosey: Just leave us alone at this point, Sidney, we don’t want you writing women that could kill us with a single look anymore. I’m so, incredibly thankful to finally have Katherine join our ranks and to witness, with my very own eyes, the beauty of the Du Pont sisters and how their dysfunctional relationship works. We have all been waiting for this moment and it is finally here. The dash is going to expode with beautiful writing that will destroy us all. I think what I am most excited for are the future plots because -- the promise that they show is how I knew this was the right fit. You’re really gonna be THAT bitch. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Sidney Age | 22 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | I’m fairly active! I’m usually here when I’m not working or sleeping, and most likely mobile and available to plot. I get to replies within 1-3 days depending on muse and time management! On a numerical scale, I’d say I’m a 6-7/10. Timezone | EST Current/Past RP Accounts | Ayo we got Lady M & Lady justice at your service!

In Character

Character | Katherine / Katarina Du Pont (I’d love a faceclaim change to Melisa Pamuk!)

What drew you to this character?

From a distance, what draws people into Katarina is her looks. How angelic her porcelain skin glistens in the moonlight, how soft and delicate and wide her eyes are, how luscious and full her lips look to be. What pulls them in is all surface features, all red rose and petal pink, all shallow desire and hollow lust; but what any meleager worth their salt forgets upon approach of Katarina Du Pont is that while precious, a diamond has sharp edges. And just as rare and indestructible as the aforementioned gem, the eldest Du Pont girl bears a face that could launch a thousand ships and packs a mean punch. Years of being told she was nothing more than a totem, a body in a pretty dress, a thing to be used and presented as an accomplishment of her parents, taught her to be unwavering in her will and unyielding in her opinion. Forgive the pretty package you see before you, for its deceived you, truly, because she is as solid as stone. No matter what Verona, her parents, the Capulets, or the whole goddamn world throws at her. Try to break the spirit of Katarina Du Pont and you’ll find yourself suffering death by a thousand cuts and she the blade.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

EXPLOITATION — Katarina’s defiantly led a life of unbridled disobedience, taking the life that was handed, or rather, sculpted, for her and indulging in it for a time, but the second she’d climbed to the top of their supposedly treacherous mountain, she’d tossed it out the window. A fool’s game if there ever was one, one she’d mastered with so little ease, she saw no point in continuing on, so she took to the least foreseen future for a woman with the surname Du Pont. A profession turned passion by sheer force of will coupled with an obsession to do the unexpected pushed her into, as her mother would say, the life of a peasant. But little does Mama Du Pont know that while her eldest daughter may uphold the law by day, by night she is a bullet tucked away into the gun of one Cosimo Capulet. She is of one singular purpose, a purpose Katarina chose all by herself, and there’s nothing that can be said to persuade her to resign away the power that comes along with free will. But what I really want to dig into is the sinew of a fractured girl turned unbreakable by all accounts, and how the story of a broken girl could develop if her perfectly constructed glass house of protection was shattered. She boasts it unbreakable just as she, claims to be as strong as stone, no? But a million little pieces all scattered in a million different directions is a lot for one person, one woman, to handle. Though Katarina would assure you that one, there’s no possible way her shatterproof home would or could ever break, and two, she can and will handle anything thrown at her, what she knows to be true—deep down when no one is looking—is that she’s already shattered. There was no repair, no new build of the woman known as Katarina Du Pont, no reimagining of the woman who carved her own path with her bare hands to get to this place. She is who she has always been: battered, broken, underestimated, and yet willing to do anything to prove she is, by all accounts, worthy of the beauty she wields like a knife and the genius she flexes through petal-pink lips. And what I want to know is who’s going to exploit that weakness—that compulsion to be the smartest person in the room, that desire to nick and scrape her sharp edges on anything in sight—first, and how? My money’s on Odin.

ADVANCEMENT — Comparatively, Katarina has always been outshined by her younger sister, always looked at with some disdain and disapproval because she is not the cookie cutter daughter that was expected upon her entrance into this world. She always cried a little too loud, drew a little too much attention, wanted a little too much freedom from the world. Each time she was presented with a box in which to place herself, instead she ripped it apart because what Katarina hates almost as much as being told what to do is being told to be something she isn’t. Be quiet, behave yourself, mind your manners. But why? was always her first thought, and it was that question that always got her into trouble. No matter where she was or what she was doing, it was instinct to ask. Always investigating motives, searching for answers and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, only to completely disobey or disregard the request. Where she was supposed to sit down and shut up, Katarina climbed atop a chair and screamed at the top of her lungs. Where she was told to uphold her surname and follow the path forged for someone of her standing, Katarina left it all behind and chose a path of justice. Albeit clouded by a dash of loyalty to the seedy underbelly that feeds Verona, but still, a path she’s carved all on her own and without her parent’s name attached. Within her world now, her name holds no weight, bears no scars nor does it quake anyone’s boots. That’s something she’ll have to initiate all on her own, through blood and sweat, but expecting Katarina Du Pont to do anything but claw her way to the top is severely underestimating a self-made woman. Hasn’t anyone ever told you what a terrible mistake that is? Lives are lost when women are undervalued and a woman like her is sure to prove you wrong with one hand and strangle you with the other. What I seek for her is blossoming potential, be it in the form of rising through the ranks within the police force. I imagine her to be a detective at this point, but to really shove her chastised way of life down her parents throat, she needs to succeed. The Capulets, however, fulfill a very different kind of need for Katarina, one that proves her worth in an entirely different way. It’s a safe space for her to be as savage as she wants, as ruthless as she can be, and what’s more is that she is praised for it which is something she’s never felt before in her entire life. Rewards for being who she is: a woman whose bones are made of chaos and flesh is forged from rage. I want to explore her drive and ambition when it comes to the mob and her profession. The two are bound to overlap eventually and I’m curious to see how well Katarina will stand up to any scrutiny in either workplace for underperforming, or if she really has what it takes to accomplish her goals, however backwards and filled with hostility they may be.

COMPETITION —All her life Katarina has been compared to others, measured by those around her against those she had no idea she was even competing with. With Brigette it was always implied; she was the perfect daughter, of course. Fair-skinned, blue-eyed, and blonde: the Du Pont recipe for perfection and everything Katarina is not. Her skin is a little darker, hair as black as night—just like her father’s—and there’s always a sarcastic comment lying in wait atop her tongue. As if she knows something you don’t, and chances are she does, and chances are she’ll be more than happy to put you in your place. She speaks her mind and doesn’t want until she’s addressed to pipe up whatever comes to mind first. All things she was scolded for from ages seven to seventeen, from the first moment she told her mother her choice of a dress for mass on Sunday was shitand refused to wear it until the day Katarina held a middle-aged man’s job in the palm of her hand. In one breath, she can make you feel like you’re the most special person in the room, and in the next she can make you question every choice you’ve ever made in your pathetic, little life. People—men, in particular—are what she knows; what makes them tick, what motivates them, what drives them to do what they do and say what they say. Any good investigator can read between the lines, pick up on physical cues, transform themselves into a human lie detector, and if Katarina is good at anything, it is adapting to her surroundings. Not only is she what most would call ‘street smart’, having spent many a night in the seediest parts of Verona with a gun strapped to her thigh, she’s Ivy League educated and was the CEO of a major banking institution by the time she was 23. She knows her way around a stronzo talking out of the side of his mouth just as well as she knows her way around international finance law. In one breath, Katarina Du Pont can garner the attention of Italy’s number one bachelor and fire off a perfect shot at 100ft range without so much as a look in the direction of her target. The one thing she can’t do is shy away from a challenge, and for so long, she’s been competing with the entire world. Her versus them, always on the opposite side of society and all its demands. What I wish for her is to meet someone who succeeds at getting under her skin. An adversary of sorts, most definitely, but what they won’t realize is how much Katarina relishes the battle. The opportunity to further her knowledge and experience, the excuse to greedily satisfy her hunger for rivalry and revelry is utterly irresistible to someone like her—someone who’s played this game all her life. I so desperately want someone to pitch a curveball at Katarina as she steps up to the plate, and I want to watch in awe as she knocks it out of the park simply because she refuses to be anything but the best.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

In Depth

In-Character Sample:

AUGUST 2014, 7:23 PM Verona Shooting Range One week after joining the Police force

“Okay, yeah, that’s perfect.” His breath is hot against her neck as he wraps his arms around hers—full-on Patrick Swayze in Ghost—attempting to teach Katarina how to properly aim the pistol within her palm, but it’s growing harder and harder for her to bite her tongue as he gives her bad advice.

“Make sure you lock your knees and keep your arms straight because it’s gonna kick, hard,” he says, closing what little distance remained between her back and his torso as he clasped calloused fingers around her own.

But he was wrong, so wrong.

If she locked her knees, she ran the risk of losing her balance once she pulled the trigger; what she truly needed was to firmly plant her feet shoulder-width apart and bend a bit to stand her ground. Never let the gun control you, a voice whispers in the back of her head, lathered in honey and poured from the lips of a lion—a Vernon. If she kept her arms parallel with the ground, the second the bullet left the chamber her arms would swing back with fierce precision toward her forehead.

What an idiot, she thinks as she peeks at him from out of the corner of her eye. His chin is brushing against her shoulder and as she lets her gaze rove over his chiseled, scruffy jaw, she remembers exactly why she is—was—playing along, but no matter how much she wants to feel that beard brush between her thighs, Katarina can’t possibly be expected to swallow her pride for the sake of an orgasm. Not when she could have both her dignity and a good time all by herself.

“Now, just aim,” and he angles her hands about eight inches shy of perfectly centered on the target. Katarina rolls her eyes in dissatisfaction, at how completely clueless he was considering the badge he wore on his hip with such ego. It’s a miracle he passed his gun qualification at all. “And fire,” she can feel him smile against her cheek, as if the loaded gun in her grip and the power that comes with it is supposed to turn her into butter in the palm of his hand, as if she’s supposed to be grateful he’s teaching her such barbaric things.

“Like this?” her voice is soft, perky and petulant, and playing right into his hand. She takes a deep breath and leans into his chest, staying in his ridiculous stance which guaranteed Katarina would surely miss. But that was her entire point, wasn’t it? On her exhale, she pulls the trigger and his hands fall to her waist. The shot misses, which she knew it would—which it seems he thought she would—and she sighs. It went too wide, not even making it within the black outlined criminal on the sheet across the room.

“Yeah,” he lies and it grates on her last nerve, “that was really grea—”

Fuck this.

“Or like this?” Katarina doesn’t wait for an answer, the question rhetorical and lathered in sarcasm, her tone no longer sweet and saccharine but coated in ash and soot as she spoke. Such is the way of a woman who’s patience has vanished in the presence of a condescending man. Righting her stance a bit and stepping out of her suitor’s grasp, she bends slightly at the knees and closes her eyes for a moment. Breathing staggered, she attempts to slow it, to inhale deeply through her nose and exhale through her mouth; to match the beating of her heart with the pull of the trigger.

One, two, three.

Katarina opens her eyes and fires; it hits dead center. Bullseye.

“We passed the same test, Nico, and though I’m sure you’d make a good fuck,” she sets the gun down and spins around on the heel of her boot to face him, a hand extended out to rest against his chest as she spoke, “I learned to shoot before you learned how to last longer than a minute thirty.” And with that, she pats the side of his face twice and tilts her head. “You are handsome though, aren’t you?” Striding past him, an impish grin begins to emerge along her rose colored lips. Even if he was stupid, he was still pretty. Turning her gaze over her shoulder, Katarina beckons him to follow after her with a finger.

“If you learn to keep your mouth shut, we can still have some fun.”

Extras:

Pinterest Playlist

SMALL HEADCANONS:

— ASTROLOGY: Born April 29th, Katarina is a taurus; the bull, stubborn and uncompromising. She is drawn to extravagance and beautiful things, hedonism flowing through her veins as thick as ichor, and it shows in the way she dresses, carries herself, presents herself to the world. Katarina was put on this Earth to feel things, with her hands or her lips, through touch and taste. What she wasn’t made for was emotions, and she will forever be running from them; thinking with her head and never her heart. At least that’s what she tells herself in order to sleep at night.

Element: Earth; practical but values material things, works hard when determined, wholly unchangeable. Ruler: Venus; connected deeply to beauty and physicality, hard not to get swept up in her haze of desire. Color(s): Green, pink; you’ll find her drawn to these colors, scattered throughout her wardrobe and makeup especially.

— STRENGTHS: reliable, patient, practical, responsible, devoted, stable. — WEAKNESSES: stubborn, possessive, uncompromising, closed off. — ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral; values free will above all else, especially her own.

[idle-flower]

Dear Yuletide Author - 2020

Thank you for your time and attention, and I hope your wishes are granted this holiday season!

Likes:

I prefer plot and angst and adventure to fluff, though a nice warm fluffy scene can make a good dessert at the end of the pain and suffering. I lean more to f/f and m/f than m/m. I enjoy forbidden relationships. I love exploring the 'what if' spinoffs of a small change in a canon. I swoon for lovers who take dramatic risks to protect their loved ones.

I also enjoy detailed description of clothing/furniture/jewelry/pretty things in general. Not just heaping up brand names, but sensory detail.

Dislikes:

Please avoid sweeping tropey AUs like 'what if noir' or 'what if everyone was in high school'. I'm REALLY picky about comedy so it's probably not a good idea to go for wacky funny stuff. No excited rambling about pregnancy or babies. (Older kids are okay.) While I am okay with pretty dark stuff, please don't gorily torture characters to death on screen. If people gotta die, limit the details! I am generally not keen on crossovers. I dislike PWP unless it is exceedingly hot smut (see below).

Smut:

I don't require it, but I do read a good bit of filthy porn.

Kinks I find interesting: mild bdsm, pain mixed with pleasure, dubcon, sibling or cousin incest, strap-ons, futanari and other magical appendages, teasing, teenagers, drugs/magic with interesting effects, people making terrible decisions due to being emotionally overwrought or really really horny

SMUTTY DO NOT WANTS: 

rape or painful sex that one party is not enjoying at all, inserting anything edible (licking off boobs is okay), aggressive face-fucking, choking, degradation, scat/watersports, bukkake, parental incest, anyone younger than teen, emphasis on 'virgin blood' (some writers make it a huge deal with tearing pain and fountains of blood, please don't).

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Wayward Children

Jill Wolcott

Down Among The Sticks And Bones is my absolute favorite of this series. I love both Jack and Jill, but everybody loves Jack. Let's talk about Jill. Let's talk about a hungry girl who wanted things, fiercely, who wanted to be pretty and special and loved, and who was left behind by a sister who chose to save herself and never look back. A girl who was deliberately cut off from friendship by the father-master who made himself her only source of love.

What if Jack and Jill maintained more contact during those formative years in the Moors, meeting in secret and trying (and probably failing) to rekindle their bond and to convince each other to appreciate their choices? What if Jill softened, and her certainty faltered?

What if both Jack and Jill had grown up without disruption in the Moors, becoming a vampire and a mad scientist, in balance and at odds? How would they interact and conflict as adults?

What happened with Jill and her friends, the ones she played with around the fountain before the Master killed them? Who were they? What did she think happened to them, and how did she react? Did they ALL die, or just enough to scare the other villagers into shunning Jill? How did she deal with the rejection?

What if she'd chosen some other method of being ruthless? Captured Alexis and locked her in the dungeons to be a plaything? Or some other village child, kept in secret, to be her pet and her 'friend'? Or perhaps captured people and brought them to her 'father' as offerings for his appetite, to prove herself?

What were days like, living with her Master? (And yes that could get kinky or creepy)

What went through her mind during EHAD? What triggered her to start her plan? Did she consider that she was behaving more like a mad scientist than a vampire princess? What did she think about Jack? Did she plan to kill Jack eventually? If Jack had abandoned Jill at the school and opened her door home alone, might Jill have succeeded in creating a key and come seeking vengeance?

Disregarding Come Tumbling Down, what else might have happened to Jill after her resurrection? If the Master rejected her, might she have gone in search of even darker powers? Do rules normally govern the fate of failed apprentices? (After all, Mary's still alive despite rejecting the Master, but apparently bound to serve him.)

Basically I'm open to a TON of ideas here but I want to stick with stories from the first two books and leave out what happened later. Bring on the angst. Let Jill suffer in tragedies of her own making, but give her sympathy as well. Maybe she’s redeemed! ... Maybe not.

VIOLENCE: I'm okay with murder and blood and torture in this canon, just try to make it more poetic than gross. You can imply she broke someone's fingers with snaps and screams, but I don't need descriptions of what somebody's kidneys look like. 

TRAGEDY: You can cut my heart out on this one if you want to. Any character can die, including Jill. I don’t require either a happy or a sad ending, but I might enjoy the tension of having no idea which way it’s going to turn out. 

IF YOU WANT TO WRITE SMUT: Jill/Jack, Jill/Master, Jill/Mary, Jill/Some random villager, these are all fine. Jill/Alexis is better as a horror element than as a smut one, I don't want to read sex if one party isn't at least reluctantly enjoying it.

DNW: Jill/Kade.

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Poison Ivy (1992 film)

Sylvie Cooper, Ivy

I was struggling through the confusions of puberty, Ivy was hot, this film left an impression on me. In a way it's perfect as it is, and trying to build any sort of happy ending for Ivy feels out of place, but on the other hand there's a lot of loose ends left after the story.

Throughout the film, there's a lot the audience never knows about Ivy, including her legal name. Did Coop know it? (Maybe, probably.) Did her father? (Quite possibly not). How do they handle all the legal responsibilities of her death? Were Ivy's stories about the aunt she was staying with true? How do they break the news?  How does her funeral go?  

What do Sylvie and her father have to say to each other about Ivy after the truth comes out? Does he admit everything that he did? How does he handle the guilt? How do they rebuild their relationship?

What is school like, afterwards? What rumors escape? How does Coop handle them?

Or - what if Ivy survives the fall? Seriously injured, possibly paralysed, but alive? How do they deal with her, once the truth comes out? Do they cover up her crimes? Do they keep her in their home? What happens to their relationships?

For AUs, what would have happened if Ivy had met Coop when they were several years younger, so she couldn't get her hooks into Darryl as easily? What if they met at summer camp and Ivy was just as messed-up and needy but the situations were different? What if the movie plot is actually a fantasy younger-Ivy spins about her future to her fascinated-and-appalled friend, who then has a chance to react to it?

IF YOU WANT TO WRITE SMUT: I'm fine with Sylvie/Ivy, I'm okay with Darryl/Ivy but I would rather he not be the focus of the story (Sylvie catching them having sex has possibilities, or Ivy thinking about Sylvie while seducing Darryl)

DNW: Anyone other than Ivy to die, Ivy to marry Darryl

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Xanth - Piers Anthony

Jenny Elf, Gwendolyn Goblin

I have an ulterior motive, I badly want to insert some gayness into Xanth after the author has tried so hard to make it impossible, even allegedly threatening magical straightjackets to cure homosexuality. And it is difficult to think of a good f/f pairing because female characters in Xanth are almost completely obsessed with flashing their panties and attracting men. Almost the only good female friendship actually on-page (as opposed to a vague comment that Ivy and Nada used to hang out) is Jenny/Gwenny, who are best friends.

The events of The Color Of Her Panties even provide some possible groundwork to build on. They've been raised together in the care of centaurs who have different views on morality/sexuality than humans do. They're forced to think about sex and be inducted into the Adult Conspiracy together. Gwenny's new contacts mean that she starts seeing other people's sexual fantasies (and Jenny does too, for a while). They're bound to have some good girly gossip on the subject at some point, talking about what all these weirdoes are into and trying to figure out what the appeal is! Or some simple "ugh boys are gross, especially goblin boys" that leads to pushing them closer together. (Well, Che is quite different from the goblin boys, and I'm not totally opposed to including him, but my ulterior motive makes me more interested in Jenny/Gwenny as a couple than all of them as an OT3.)

Straightforward romance: Gwenny relies on Jenny to cheer her up and help her relax from her duties. Romance blossoms! Simple.

Silly fluff: Gwenny and Jenny visit the Pantry, try on tons of lingerie together, have a ridiculous slumber party and pillow fight, end up snogging... maybe they even accidentally found Dolph and Electra's honeymoon chamber.

For a slightly more dramatic plot, Gwenny's bound to feel like she has to marry and have a child because goblins have hereditary rulership. She also knows all the good and bad sides of that - she would never have come to power without those rules, but those rules also made her bastard half-brother a threat when he would have been a terrible leader. And she knows that true family is what you choose, not just an accident of birth. Will she decide that she has to have a husband? Will she decide that she cannot have a husband, who might threaten her power, but must give birth to a child for the succession? (And hey, magic can be involved, she can TOTALLY find a way to summon the stork with Jenny somehow) Or what about adoption?

If you smut it, I don't care if they're still as young as they were in TCOHP (but no younger). I'm also fine with them being older. I would rather not do any temporary sex-change because that defeats my ulterior motive, but weird uses for Xanth-style magic stuff could be entertaining.

If the real-world implications of Jenny Elf bother you, I'll settle for Ivy/Nada, but that's going to need a lot more imagination to get a satisfying story out of it. How does their friendship develop between Isle of View and Man from Mundania, other than gossipping about their respective brothers? Do they have any adventures? How does Ivy cope with Nada's occasional self-destructive tendencies? How does Electra fit into their group?

DNW: Tragic endings, any references to canon post The Color Of Her Panties

-

My Little Pony Megan, Wind Whistler

Wind Whistler needs more love. I will be perfectly content with any fantasy adventure story featuring the G1 / MLP&Friends characters facing dramatic fantasy peril and saving the day with some help from Wind Whistler's brains. I loved Tambelon and Midnight Castle and The End Of Flutter Valley and all sorts of mystical threats, so throw some big old magical doom at me. I don't really want any permanent harm to come to anyone, it feels out of tone for a show adventure, but you can tie Megan up and have her suspended over certain death and rescued at the last minute by Wind Whistler swooping in or whatever.

Please avoid any references to Friendship is Magic locations/characters/etc, I actually haven't watched it and will just be confused.

Now, if you want to cater to my weird midnight thoughts...

Megan and Wind Whistler were close. Very close. And ponies having crushes on human-shaped people was canon. And Wind Whistler is not always good at dealing with her heart. Imagine the angst potential of these two developing feelings for each other. How do they cope? Do they maintain a romantic friendship while supporting each other in other relationships? Do they remain together, chastely bonded, all their lives? What if Wind Whistler found a way to take human form? How would she cope with giving up her wings for Megan? (Could be a bit of a Little Mermaid plotline there).

Given the in-cartoon existence of Mama and Baby versions of the same pony, and no Papa pony ever, suggesting you can have identical offspring with no father needed, do ponies actually reproduce through some sort of magical stork/cabbage-patch scenario? And if so, could weird pony hybrids start showing up if the ponies socialise too much with other creatures?

SMUT: Only if Wind Whistler takes on human form, and only as a small element of the story, that's really not what I'm here for with this request. (But being able to take on human form only once and having only one night together would hit my taste for angst.)

DNW: Sex involving ponies, canon-atypical violence/injuries/death.

[alexatrevino93]

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How To Do A Reiki Self Healing

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Reiki Therapy Los Angeles

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[whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname]

The Line (Part 17)

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam, Mary x Ketch, OFC (BMoL)

Word Count: 1763

Summary:  After dealing with Lucifer, Sam and Dean make it their mission to find the reader.  Meanwhile Mary helps the Ketch with a case

Warnings: Angst, Violence towards a main character, Character Death (to side characters), Gore.

A/N:  I feel like I’m finally getting some momentum back for writing.  My goal is to finish this story by the end of October or sooner.  There should only be about 5 more chapters left, ending with a total of 22 (including the Epilogue). As a side note, I maybe be watching too much GoT, and it shows.   Oops.

***Please do not repost my stories without my permission.*** 

The Line Masterlist

“Anything,” Sam asked, leaning against the door frame to Dean’s room.  He glanced over the top of his computer briefly, before diving back into his search feed.

“No,” he said flatly.  Sam sucked at his teeth, seeing the dark circles under his brother’s eyes.

“Maybe it’s not the worst thing,” he suggested, stepping into the unkempt room.  Pushing a pile of dubious laundry to the side, he leaned against Dean’s dresser.  When Dean said nothing, he continued.  “I mean, if even we can’t find her, that means Lucifer couldn’t before we got him back in the cage.”  

Dean paused and Sam could see him thinking back to that night in the theater when they’d just barely managed to send Lucifer back to the cage but not before he’d managed to kill and mame several people as Vince Vincente.

“Yeah, or maybe we can’t find her because he got to her first,” Dean said darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” Sam said firmly, shaking his head.  “There’s no way.  He would have lorded that over us.  No, if he’d - well, we’d know.”

Dean returned to his research and Sam waited, watching him.  This obsession wasn’t healthy.  Dean wasn’t sleeping, hardly eating.

“Have you told mom?”  

Dean paused, but didn’t look at his brother, and unmistakable tension in his shoulders the only sign of his discomfort.

“She’s got enough to deal with.”

“Don’t you think she’d want to know she has a daughter-in-law?”  Sam asked.  Dean shot him a withering look.

“I think I don’t want to overwhelm her,” Dean said tersely.  “And how would that phone call even go?  ‘Hey, mom, I know you left but by the way: I’m married, and not only is my wife a witch, but she doesn’t have a soul and she’s in the wind.’ Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

Sam sighed.

“You’ll have to tell her eventually,” Sam said, trying to reasonable.  Dean stared his brother down, biting at his lip and considering his words carefully.

“And eventually you’ll have to cut that hair-,” he said, turning back to his computer with an air of finality “,- but you don’t see me pulling out the scissors.

Sam slapped his hands on his thighs, standing up.

“Right, good talk.”

You were being followed.  

The trails of magic you sent out behind you were tingling.  That, and your years of hunting had made you keenly alert for tails.  Men in business suits didn’t walk that fast without a briefcase in one hand and coffee in another.  And they certainly didn’t carry umbrellas, not in Seattle.  The chaos of a busy street did nothing to hide you once these men had found your trail.

It didn’t bother you.  They weren’t the first.  Lady Toni had been true to her word.

There was suddenly a pressure against your spine and the cold twist of a smile tugged at your lips.  A firm hand clenched your arm.

“You wouldn’t want to make a scene,” said a pointedly British accent in your ear, so close his lips brushed your skin.  “Let’s go somewhere more private, shall we?”

He steered your through the packed streets, jostling you through people who were oblivious to the gun at your back.  Several blocks away he turned you roughly into an alley that ran between an old bar and a falafel restaurant.  The puddles smelled of refuse, but the alley was empty.  There was a divot in the buildings where the dumpsters offered some privacy.  That’s where they directed you.

“The British Men of Letters send their regards,” he said, and you turned to look at them.  The man holding the gun was taller than the other, with a smattering of ginger hair under his cap.  The other was shorter, but burly.

“I’m aware.  They’ve send them time and time again.”  You smiled coyly up at him.  “And do you know how I’ve returned the favor for all the others?”

The men glanced at each other.  They knew.

You turned your wrist upwards, curling your fingers until only your index and middle fingers were crooked forwards.  The ginger man dropped the gun, gasping and reaching towards his face.  

You pressed forward with your fingers, listening to him scream.  The burly man reached in his jacket for a gun that was surely hidden there, but with one casual twist of our wrist he was propelled across the alley.  There was a wet sucking sound, followed by a gurgle.  

But there was no scream.  No, those were all coming from the ginger, blood was seeping down his face from beneath his hands.  

“Should I send you back to your masters with a message,” you asked him.  He nodded frantically, too lost in pain to speak, his screams wailing in the air.

You pressed forward and his screams rose before they stopped suddenly.  His hands dropped from his face, revealing the gaping holes where his eyes had been, before he slumped forward onto the wet asphalt.  Looking to your left you saw the other man impaled through the neck on a splintered 2x4, his fingers still twitching.

“You’ll be my message,” you said to the still body at your feet, stepping over it and out into the rain.

Mary was pulling her shirt on over her head when Ketch’s phone rang, cutting through the stillness of the morning after.

“Yes,” he said tersely into the phone.  She didn’t look at him, grabbing for her overshirt instead, and listening in on the conversation.

“Damn,” he swore and she did turn then, seeing the anger carved into his face.  “Consider it done.”

“New assignment,” Mary asked as he ended the call.  Ketch sucked at his cheeks, looking her up and down before speaking.

“It would appear so.  A little unfinished business,” he said, beginning to pack his things.

“What are we walking into, Ketch,” Mary asked.  He stopped, flashing her a smile.

“Nothing we can’t handle, I assure you.”

Mary stared him down.

“You’re lying,” she said firmly.  He sucked at his cheeks again before sighing.

“We have one subject that’s proving harder than we thought to eradicate,” he said, and Mary could see him covering the severity of the situation.

“What is it?”  Mary asked, catching his hand in hers.  He looked down at his hand a gentleness sweeping across his features for a moment.

“A witch,” he said sighing and throwing his shoulders back.  “She’s killed several of our operatives. And-,”

“Several,” Mary asked and he nodded.  “I need specifics if I’m going into this with you.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand before pulling away.

“Seven.  She’s killed seven men and women,” Ketch divulged, his tone changing.  “The home office has deemed our casualty rate unacceptable.  If you and I are unable to put an end to her-,” he paused, unable to look Mary in the eye, “- then they’re going to withdraw the operation.”

Mary nodded, her mouth setting in a firm line.

“Well, you have something they didn’t have,” she said confidently.

“And what is that?”

“Me,” Mary said with a smile shrug, and Ketch grinned.

Ketch pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing to Mary to take his right flank.  She followed his instruction soundlessly slipping around the exterior of the house they’d tracked you to.  Mary checked the perimeter while Ketch entered through the back, gun in hand.

He passed through the kitchen, the smell of mold permeating the air incipiently.  The dining room was also clear.  Slowly he crept towards the living room.

“I know you’re here, there's no sense in hiding,” you called to him.  Ketch stepped through the archway, into the remnants of what had once been a cozy living space.  Now ivy grew through the window and there was a damp chill in the air.  

“You’re not here for peace negotiations, are you,” you nodded towards the silvery glint of the pistol.  

“Not after what you’ve done,” he said coolly.

“I’m so tired of killing you people,” you said, staring him down.  “You die so easily.  I want a real challenge.”

“Then you’ve got one,” he said, stepping further into the room.  You raise a hand, feeling the magic rush through your fingers as you reached out to kill him.  The magic parted around him, ruffling his hair like a gentle breeze.  

Ketch grinned darkly, pulling down the collar of his shirt.  There were runes drawn into his skin, warding off the affects of magic.

“Well this should be interesting,” you said.

A shot rang out and the bullet stopped three inches from your heart, before clattering to the ground.  Your hip tingled.  You looked to the right, seeing a woman obscured in the shadows.

“Nice aim,” you sneered stalking towards her, pulling a knife from the holster at your hip.  She shot again but the bullet went wide.

You thrust out your knife wielding arm, intent on sliding into into her stomach when she was shoved out of way and the blade slid smoothly into the man’s back.

Mary hit the ground, the gun slipping from her fingers, staring up at Ketch as blood spilled over his lips.  You pulled the knife free and he crumpled.  Stepping over him you approached the woman.  She scampered backwards, into a beam of moonlight.

You stopped, staring down at her.

There was a flash of a memory.

You were curled up in Dean’s arms in the front seat of the Impala, watching the sunset across the endless North Dakota planes.  

“You look like her,” you said, looking between the few photos in your hands.  Dean kissed your temple, his father’s journal spread out across your lap.

“Really,” he asked, sounding almost afraid it was true.

“The jaw, the hair,” you said, twisting to look up at him.  “Thanks for showing me these, Dean.”

Gently he cupped your chin, lifting it for a deep kiss.  

You stepped back.  The knife slipped from your fingers, clattering on the floor.  It was Mary Winchester, somehow alive and back from the dead.  Her eyes were huge, waiting for you to move, to do to her what you’d done to Ketch.  You glanced at his body, suddenly unsure, the whispering from beyond the wall growing louder.

“Take this as a warning,” you said coolly, before stepping back and all but running.

Slowly Mary sat up, ignoring the lacerations on her arms and elbows from when she’d fallen.  Ketch stared at her with empty, lifeless eyes.  She pulled her phone from her jacket, dialing quickly.

“Sam, Dean,” Mary asked into the phone, still shaking.  “I need your help on a case.”

Chapter 18

[artificialqueens]

Just Tonight #7 (Shalaska) - BABE

AN: Alrighty, I never thought I’d be back here. It’s been a rough few months and every time I sat down to write I drew blanks. When I was motivated, I couldn’t get my laptop working and now that I have, I’m back. I’m keeping to my original plan for this story and hope the fans that were with me so many months ago are still there. I love you all so much and I’m sorry for not being around to write this story. Keep it foxy x

“We were staying in Paris to get away from your parents and I thought, ‘Wow, if I could take this in a shot right now I don’t think that we could work this out,” Alaska sang quietly as she sat in her seat on the airplane. Roxxxy sat to her right and could barely contain her excitement while the blonde didn’t have much excitement at 6 o’clock in the morning. It was the first day of spring break and Alaska knew that she should be sleeping in right now but she had a bigger mission to accomplish – seeing Sharon for the first time in two weeks. Of course, they’d been using Skype and Facetime and Sharon was quite good at using Snapchat (for many reasons, Alaska noted) but it would be nice to have her in her arms again. There were small things, like the way her hips tingled when Sharon kissed her, or the goosebumps that covered her arms at the lightest of the girl’s touches that Alaska missed, but the thing she missed the most was just how warm the older girl was. With her headphones in her ears and the plane up in the air, Alaska found herself slipping into the depths of sleep, knowing that in an hour or so, Sharon would be back to her.

An hour later, Alaska stirred to her the sounds of the no seatbelt sign going off and announcements that they were arriving in New York at any minute. The city intrigued her, she had never been but all of the idealistic ideas that had been presented to her in late night reruns of Sex and The City made her believe that it was the most magical place on Earth. Plus, being here with Sharon in one of the coolest cities in the world was a bonus.

“I’m so excited to see Dee,” Roxxxy was babbling beside her. She was rambling about how long it had been since they’d seen each other and how lonely she’d been, feelings that Alaska related to but couldn’t handle. The one hour nap could only help the blonde tolerate the other girl’s pep.

Roxxxy’s voice was in her ear all throughout leaving the plane, luggage collection and the coffee that she had purchased from Starbucks to keep her awake. It was only when two familiar figures came into Alaska’s vision that Roxxxy was speechless. Without a second thought, the dark haired girl dove into Dee’s arms, accidentally knocking her to the ground. It caused a scene in the airport as many onlookers watched the public display of affection. Sharon and Alaska, however, both tiredly embraced, their lips meeting each other’s passionately but sleepily. It was their good morning kiss, one that they’d mastered because neither were morning people.

“I missed you,” Alaska whispered, a small smile on her lips.

“I missed you too.”

The ride from the airport to the three star hotel was spent sleeping in Sharon’s arms, only to be awakened by the older girl when they got to their destination. Alaska felt bad for not saying hello to Jinkx and Ivy first but Sharon took their younger girl straight up to their room, herself tired from the lack of sleep on the tour bus the night before. There, they skipped conversations, they skipped niceties, they even skipped the reunion sex that both were dying to have. All that Sharon and Alaska did was get into their bed and sleep for the day, Sharon’s arms wrapped tightly around Alaska’s waist.

This is what they missed the most.

———————–

Alaska woke up to the sound of pounding on the door, realising that Sharon was no longer in bed. She groggily looked at the clock’s time and was shocked to find it read 2:37 pm, which was a lot longer than she’d planned to sleep for, especially since the band was in New York and she’d wanted to explore the city. As she tiredly stumbled towards the door, Alaska was relieved to look through the peep hole and find that it was Roxxxy. Opening the door, she grinned.

“Hey, Rox,” she greeted, letting the girl into the room. The other girl looked completely fresh and prepared while Alaska’s hair was a mess and she was still in her clothes from the airport. “Do you know where Sharon is?”

“Yeah, they’ve gone to sound check,” Roxxxy replied, her voice fully of her normal energetic attitude. Alaska noted that the girl’s excessive excitement had lessened after seeing Dee for the first time in a couple of weeks. “I was talking to the tour manager, Michelle, and she said that the girls would have to do sound check at 2:30 for an hour, then they’re free until dinner at 6 and concert at 7. This shit is legit, Lasky. They’ve got a tour bus and roadies and all that jazz but the performances are still in clubs and small venues, it’s like having the best of both worlds. Anyways, get ready. We’re meeting the band in an hour and you look like a mess. No offence, girl.” Roxxxy sat down on the bed, puffed out after her excessive rambling while Alaska rushed around her room, trying to get ready. She somehow felt an immense pressure to look good for Sharon, something she hadn’t really had before. She showered quickly and brushed out her knotty hair while Roxxxy told her all about her and Dee’s afternoon. Lucky for Alaska, there were no sordid details, just shopping and chilling in Central Park which sounded delightfully like them.

In her mind, she knew that their day wasn’t as good as hers.

—————————-

The first day was a complete blur to Alaska, one that made her feel all fuzzy and warm at the end of the night. She remembered some pieces – trying to navigate the crazy streets with Roxxxy and getting completely lost, having to be bailed out by Michelle and making it to the sound check only to see that their check had been over half an hour ago. Sharon looked relieved to see Alaska, pulling her into a hug and whispering “I’ve got a big surprise for you” in the blonde’s ear. She held a picnic basket out of Alaska’s sight and took her hand and led her out the door.

Sharon’s big surprise had been the Empire State Building. Alaska had never been anywhere so high and the height and Sharon’s goofy smirk and the smell of the rose bouquet and the champagne made her dizzy. She was drunk on love and never wanted it to change. The girls clung to each other as the day turned colder, the spring air unusually chilly.

“A moment like this should never end,” Alaska murmured wistfully as they linked hands. Sharon grinned in reply, humming to Just Tonight, Alaska singing as they grasped hands. The two danced as people passed them for what felt like hours, until they were the only people there and they realised that they’d skipped dinner and were almost late for the gig. Alaska took one last look at the blanket of lights that covered the city and took in its magic, hoping the magic would stay with the couple as long as they lived.

Luckily for Sharon, the couple arrived back at the venue with enough time to change for the concert. Alaska stood side stage and watched on admirably, knowing that she’d be called on stage to sing The Only Exception like she had weeks ago, it had become Anarchy Rose’s most popular song. It was exactly the same as it was last time and gave her the exact same rush.

“Up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness, because none of it was ever worth the risk,” the two sang, as if nobody was watching. It was a beautiful end to a perfect day.

When the other bands went on, Alaska watched them from Sharon’s arms. Nothing could ever go wrong, she thought.

—————————-

Unfortunately for the two, a lot could definitely go wrong.

It started off as tiny tensions – Alaska wanting to spend lots of time with Sharon, who was too busy trying to write new and amazing songs for a potential album. The bus became too cramped for the people staying on it and Alaska often either felt overwhelmed or isolated. As the bus travelled from each city, things changed for the couple. The dates like in New York started dwindling, the romantic PDA that they had not been afraid of felt like a foreign concept and Alaska would go hours just curled up in the bus with her headphones in her ears. Everyone noticed it, it was making everyone uncomfortable.

In Boston, things spiralled out of control.

Alaska stood side stage, waiting to be called onto the stage to sing The Only Exception. It was a chore now, but it was still her song. Someone’s footage from New York of the two singing it had gone viral, and the added exposure sent Sharon back into her rocker persona. Now, she was drunk and the opening bars of the song were playing, but Alaska was not invited out onto the stage. Hell, she wasn’t even given the credit.  It wouldn’t have been a huge deal if they hadn’t felt the distance that they had been feeling.  As she watched a song that was her baby being sung to a crowd, she felt herself getting emotional. Not wanting to cause a scene, she ran outside, letting the tears spill from her eyes.

When Sharon strutted off the stage, she was expecting Alaska to be there with the amazement with her eyes like she used to show, but was shocked to see the blonde nowhere in sight. Roxxxy pointed to the door where Alaska ran out of wordlessly, a glare on her face. Sharon, confused by the look and the amount of alcohol she had consumed, followed the gesture. Her confusion increased as she saw a crying Alaska in the alleyway. Mascara starting to drip down her cheeks.

“Lasky,” she started, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Alaska stopped crying as she shrugged Sharon’s hand away, their eyes locking together.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she barely whispered, her voice cracking. New tears were threatening to spill from her big eyes. “We’re not the same couple as we were in New York and I don’t know why. What happened to us? Why does it feel like you’re a thousand miles away all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know what you’re tal-“

“Quit the bullshit, Sharon. I know you feel it too,” Alaska’s tone was much harsher than Sharon expected.  “Sometimes we don’t talk. I see Jinkx and Ivy all coupley and we’ve barely even cuddled in days. I feel so fucking isolated from you!” She took a breath as her voice grew with volume. “You’re living your dream, congratulations. But it feels as if I’m not part of that dream anymore.”

“Lasky, please…” Sharon started, but Alaska had already started to walk away. She spun on her heels, vulnerability in her eyes. It was something so new and so scary, even as months had passed for them.

“I understand that you still love me, but I need time. I’m going home, talk to me when you’re back in Pittsburgh.” With that, Alaska had disappeared from her view, and Sharon wanted to break down so badly. Instead, she held it in, pulled out a cigarette and tried to calm herself down. If she couldn’t have Alaska, then it was as if she was back to square one.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Loved how Jamie gave claire the medical book in the Boston story. Can we maybe see her starting to look at which one she wants to go to? Does she have her sights set on Harvard??

Flood my Mornings: The First Step 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment:  Samhain (Jamie stumbles upon a new community)

November, 1950 

{CEBF}

“Jamie?” I called urgently across the evening-shadowed house, rustling the pages on the rolltop. “Jamie? Did you move my essay?”

Ah yes, My Essay: 

Why should you be admitted to Harvard University’s Program for Correspondent Students?

Well, you see, honorable gentlemen of the admissions committee, my applications for medical school a few years hence—even if not at Ivy League institutions— will need to look as goddamned impressive as can possibly be mustered, since they will almost certainly be reviewed by a panel of elderly male fuddy-duddies like yourselves. 

Thus, having Harvard University on my CV (even if it’s only for these pre-requisite courses), will only serve to impress said fuddy-duddies, and as a female with a spotty-at-best record in formal education, I need all the bloody help I can get. 

The almost-final draft of my personal statement had been more subtle, but it was God’s honest truth. 

I’d been working incessantly on the damned thing for weeks, sleeping little and poorly from the stress. I’d downed more coffee than I’d previously have deemed safe for human beings, and was looking and feeling decidedly the worse for wear for it all. 

Meanwhile, my sainted husband had tirelessly picked up my slack with the house and with Bree night after night as I hunched over the desk, scribbling and scratching out. This last week, in particular, he’d given me more than enough space, bless him, speaking softly, keeping Bree out of my hair, giving kisses, but not initiating sex, nor even the casual touches that were so much a part of our daily rhythm with one another. I knew he meant well by it—to allow me to focus my non-hospital- and non-sleep-hours upon the task at hand… but LORD, another part of me wished that he would just hoist me out of my chair, throw me onto the ground, and give me an hour’s rough relief from my own mind and Harvard blasted University! I didn’t hold it against him, of course, and it would be over soon, in any case, but his walking on eggshells around me was its own breed of stress. 

‘Stress’—such a tiny word for so much inner turmoil. It wasn’t just the essay in front of me or the way my gut had felt all tied in knots for the past week; it was the entire trajectory of which this was only the first step: the prerequisite courses, the MCATs, applications, interviews, medical school, internship, residency, fellowship—the next decade or more of my life! So much would hinge on every single decision I made from here on out. I couldn’t afford any mistakes, starting with this bloody essay. 

I had put the entire packet together last night in the Manila envelope: application, references, ESSAY. Stamps, on. Addresses, penned. Seal…well…left UN-sealed, because I wasn’t bloody ready. And good thing, too, for I’d spent my entire shift that day replaying the words in my mind, every phrase sounding wretched, every choice of words trite or cliché or childish, and screaming for another revision. I’d rushed home, called a ‘hello, darling,’ to Jamie, who was tucking Bree in for the night, and then gone directly to the rolltop, still in my coat and hat, to read it through again and exorcise this demon. Except my packet wasn’t there.

“Jamie??” I called again, louder, my anxiety mounting. I hissed at two sudden papercuts as I rummaged frantically again through the stack. “Darling? Did Penelope say anything about moving my—”

“Sassenach, keep your voice down, for God’s sake—” Jamie whispered loudly as he came around the living room door, looking harried. “Brianna’s only just gotten to sleep, lass!”

I lowered my voice but not my urgency, and I barely even looked up. “The envelope with my application and personal statement? Have you seen it? I swear, it was right on top of the stack with the blue folder here on the desk.”

“Oh, aye, I sent it in.”

“What?” I laughed weakly, still rummaging. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I did,” he said simply, “I mailed it in.” 

I froze. And STARED at him. “What?” 

“It was complete. The deadline was coming up in a few days; so,” he shrugged, ACTUALLY shrugged, “I mailed it in for ye.”

“It was NOT complete.”

The words came out low and lethal, and I could see Jamie’s shirt-too-tight-shrug that indicated he heard the danger in them. “Ye packed it all in the mailing envelope, no? It was ready to be submitted.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t ready to send it yet!”

He made a small sound of carefully-controlled exasperation. “Claire, mo chridhe, how should I have known th–”

“You should have asked! You should have called me at work to ASK!” I threw up my hands. “Not just assumed that I was ready to have it sent off without my permission!” 

He squirmed perceptibly but wasn’t giving in. “Lass, you’ve been slaving over that essay for weeks. You’ve barely slept—You put it in the envelope, wi’ the address and stamps and everything. I read it again last night after ye went to bed and it was perfect.”

“It wasn’t—

The truth was that despite my obsessing over it, it HAD probably been as bloody close to perfect as I could get it. I’d double-checked and triple-checked and quadruple-checked; revised and wordsmithed it to within an inch of its life. But I’d wanted to wait ‘til the very last moment to send it in, to feel absolutely certain it was as good as I could make it; and having that control so unexpectedly pulled out from beneath me—

“—Even if it had been, Jamie, you still had no—NO—bloody right—”

He ran his hands back through his hair. “Sassenach, come now, it’s no’ as though—”

“Jamie, this isn’t a recipe I’m sending to a Ladies’ Magazine!” I didn’t know what to do with my hands but they gestured wildly in my livid rage and tears. “This is—was—Harvard!”

“I ken it IS Harvard,” he said pointedly, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders “—and I ken you’re going to be ACCEPTED there when they read your—”

“And what the hell would YOU know about it?” I snapped, perceiving only the hurt flashing across his face before I was down the hallway and into the bathroom, locking the door. I yanked the shower handle and sunk down against the tub, letting the water mask the sounds of my weeping. 

A few minutes later, Jamie was knocking softly on the door. 

“Sassenach?” 

His voice was quiet, and, I thought, abashed.  “Claire…? May I come in?”

I covered my mouth so he couldn’t hear me. I felt tears trickling over my hand but I wouldn’t open my eyes. It’s not the end of the world, Beauchamp. 

Another knock.

A long silence. 

“Lass….I’m sorry…” 

He was leaning against the door, I thought. 

“It was…an impulsive thing I did— I—” he sighed miserably. “—I thought better of it throughout the day, but…Christ, i’m sorry…It was foolish. I was wrong to do it…” 

A long silence. 

A long…long silence. 

“I’m truly…truly sorry, Claire.” 

I took a deep breath. 

Then another. 

Once more. 

It would be alright. I hadn’t been ready, but the essay was fine. Jamie regretted what he’d done. It would be alright. 

But I was too spent and too upset to consider opening the door. 

{JF}

He HAD been wrong to do it—knew not ten minutes after the post had gone that he’d made a grave error in judgement. But the essay had been perfect, BRILLIANT, and Claire had been so plagued by self-doubt over it. It was as if she had placed her entire sense of her own worth upon success in this single endeavor, this single writing. He’d simply wished her to feel as if she had finally accomplished the thing, after such a harrowing period these last few weeks. 

But she was completely right: what he wished her to feel was irrelevant, and he had betrayed her trust. She was well within her rights not to be ready to forgive him. 

He waited more than an hour, until long after he’d heard her enter the bedroom; giving her the space she apparently wanted. At last, though, he entered the darkened room. 

She was already in bed with her back turned to him. Asleep? He couldn’t tell—but even if she were awake, he didn’t expect her to speak until morning. He deserved her fury for at least that long.

He undressed and slipped quietly under the covers, taking care not to jostle her. Without really thinking about it, he mirrored her posture, coming to rest on his side, facing away from her. 

He listened to the clock tick and tried to let it lull him to sleep. 

One minute. 

Two. 

Three.

Four. 

“Can’t you at least bring yourself to have sex with me?”  Sharp. Wide awake. Dangerous. 

Startled, he blurted, bewildered. “Bring myself—?” 

He felt her bolt upright beside him, her hands slamming onto the bedspread. Her voice was still laced with anger, but desperate, forbye, and hurting. “Jamie, you haven’t touched me in a week! I need to—to feel close to—”

“You’ve never wished me to have ye during your courses before, Sassenach,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face as he rolled onto his back. “Do ye really want to that badly tonight?” His ‘especially when you’re not too keen on me at the moment, in any case,’ was implied. He would serve her, of course, if she wished it, but–

“I’m not on my goddamned ‘courses,’ you absolute bastard!”

Jamie opened his mouth to fire back.

—but then, she gasped— 

—a tiny sound, barely more than a sharp breath, really, but so deeply unlike Claire that—

He was on his knees beside her in an instant.  She was kneeling on the mattress, too, clad in only her underclothes, both hands clapped over her mouth.  “Oh, God,” she croaked between her fingers, her eyes wide and wide and wider.

“Mo ghraidh—?” He grappled for her face, pushing back the wildness of her hair to hold her between his hands. “Mo chridhe—? you're—?”

“Oh—God!” she said again, eyes brimming and hyper-focused upon nothing, her mouth gaping open and shut,  “—I didn’t—I was so busy, I hadn’t been—No—” she moaned softly as he lifted her and gathered her, cradled her to him. Her body was rigid, pushing back, and her head shaking violently back and forth. “No,” she wept, “no, no, it’s—Jamie, it’s too soon.“ He could see her eyes sparkling with life through her tears, even as she tried to resist the truth. “We can’t—can’t know for certain—not yet.”

“Six days, Claire—” he gasped, his free hand roaming up her back to cup her cheek, hard. “One day—two days, maybe, but—SIX?”  

She lowered her fingers tentatively to graze the natural curve of her belly. Jamie watched in a trance as her palm slowly came to lay flat against her skin.  “Oh, God,” she whispered, swaying on her knees and leaning her forehead against his shoulder as her arms came around him. “Jamie…Jamie…” 

He held her and rocked her (THEM!) and kissed her, crying, laughing—but then remembered—

“I'm—truly sorry about the application, mo nighean donn,” he choked out, feeling the guilt seize this moment of joy. “It was your task—your choice—It wasna my place at all to—”

“Forgiven,” she whispered, putting her fingers to his lips and shaking her head. “Forgiven…. And I’m sorry, too….for what I said—I didn’t mean—”

He kissed her, and she kissed him, and there was nothing except her arms; her fingers cupping the back of his head; the taste of her tears and his; her lips; her sweet voice, breaking. “Jamie...Jamie, I’m so—happy—” 

He couldn’t say a word. He could only nod his head slowly over and over again, completely overcome, his shoulders shaking. His heart felt ready to burst as he watched his wife, her face shining, go softly to her back and reach up for him. “Come to me?”

And he came to her, made love to her—the only woman he’d ever had; the only one he would ever have in his lifetime.

And as he lay awake long after, holding her, cupping the bairn that slept within her, he prayed; but unlike the night more than two years ago when he’d held Brianna in this same fashion, heart breaking from despair and fear and the looming specter of death, his prayer this night was hopeful and strong.

Lord…that this child will be safe.

[next chapter: Eggs]

[paul-patts-blog]

Character Profile: Paul Roman Patts “Pongo” 

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive.” -Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

Myers-Briggs: ENFP

Sometimes called the performer of the Myers-Briggs, it makes sense that Paul, collector of witticisms and incorrigible flirt, would hold the title of ENFP.  Often the life of the party, never anything less than a free spirit, an ENFP’s buoyant, unending energy is for one purpose and one purpose only: seeking social and emotional connections in the crowd they so often surround themselves with. Paul is no different. He becomes restless and lonely if he does not have people to turn to and he depends on his friendships to steer him away from his weaknesses, like his malicious low self-esteem or his tendency to overthink or overwork. But because of Paul’s background, he has a lot of secrets and sources of shame, so those people-- the ones he can truly depend on-- are actually very seldom found. You can think you’re in Paul’s inner circle, but his charm, friendliness and communication skills are really fooling you-- you’re just one of the many people who Paul wants to please.

Paul’s love of people is rooted too in his love of writing and reading. His NF means that he’s an intuitive guy, interested in what motivates people and able to see under the initial surface (and part of that might be because Paul is so cognizant of the surface he presents to others that he assumes rather readily that most people are like him-- icebergs, more dwelling underneath). When he writes, he writes just as much to understand others as he does to understand himself, and though his shame stops him from sharing his work, Paul secretly hopes that one day his fiction could provide bridges between that inner self of his and others.

Hogwarts house: Slytherin Primary, Gryffindor Secondary with a very strong Slyth Model

Paul’s people-pleasing, affable, confident ways make him first seem like a Gryffindor to some, but that’s just the act, his Slytherin model making it easy for him to adapt to the needs of a situation. Paul’s real primary is Slytherin and it’s extremely strong. He’s motivated by what’s his: himself, his needs (his ambition is pretty traditional Slytherin), and the needs of his immediate inner circle. For Paul, that’s always meant the Patts family: because Patts’ take care of their own. It’s why he didn’t go to uni when he was 18, dropping his scholarship because of the death of his brother and his own mother’s mental health. It’s why for six more years Paul stayed in East End, loyal to his family who needed him, pushing his own dreams to the side-- he could come back to them. It’s why even now he can’t fully let go of Perdita or kick her from that inner circle (she’s got a foot out the door and he’s doing his best to cut her out), and why he let Roger back in though he’d been betrayed so badly. It’s ridiculously hard for Paul to unlearn the loyalty he has assigned to his people. That diehard loyalty is also particularly hard-won. For many, it takes years. Most people never get it.

Paul is also unusual though in that he’s a Slytherin that has almost completely kicked himself out of his circle. Many times in his life as said above, Paul’s dreams have come in direct conflict with the needs of those most important to him. Because Paul needs his people, can’t live without his people, he always chooses them over himself. He’s learned to belittle his needs to come to terms with these decisions, unknowingly doing more damage than he realizes.

The model/dor combo is often constantly in tug-o-war with each other too. The -dor is handed down to him by his brothers and father as he was taught to act first, ask questions later. And Paul’s got an extremely emotional core, his F probably his strongest piece of his Myers-Briggs; saying no to that emotional core causes him immense frustration. But he learned at a young age that the Patts’ way of doing things isn’t necessarily the best way and it was better to be charming than honest if it got him where he wanted to go. His Slyth model is then used in two different ways-- to play and flirt, and as a last-ditch survival technique, like when navigating the troubled waters of his relationship with Perdita. It’s a model because he hates doing it in these serious instances, always feels a little guilty and slimy, and would much rather just be himself. When Paul is relaxed though, then his- dor shines, and people can see that charge-headfirst, inspiring bloke, once head of his secondary football team and for good reason-- he’s the guy you want calling shots.

Enneagram: 3w2-- The Charmer

Basic Fear: Of being worthless Basic Desire: To feel valuable and worthwhile

If Paul’s Myers-Briggs and Hogwarts house help explain his social and emotional sides, then his Enneagram explains his professional and personal ambitions best-- these parts of him sidelined and sacrificed due to his upbringing and loyalty. Paul isn’t a very healthy 3 then, though he’s learned to perform the role well and was much healthier in his upper sixth-form days-- when he was a star athlete with a scholarship, admired by his peers and immensely popular with basically any “group” in his year. That’s because 3s strive to achieve, are often confident and well-spoken, and love to share their talents as much as they love to encourage the talents of others. They are role models, class presidents, homecoming kings and queens-- and Paul fit into that model well, even though he had to hide his background to do it and ignore the little voice that told him he was a fraud.

Threes are thus obsessed with their goals, and Paul, a dreamer, has too many goals to count. For Paul to have a successful life, he needs to go to university-- he’s always defined that as the first marker of a successful life, and he longed to be the very first Patts to do so. He wants badly to have a successful relationship and a healthy family as well. He needs to make money too in any way that he can. He doesn’t seek fame as much as he seeks that stability, though because he grew up in poverty, stability does seem materialistic to him in a lot of ways. It means a house, two cars, going to good schools, being able to go on vacation, afford nice, new clothes and nice, new toys and basically being able to give his people whatever he can. Paul won’t be happy until he can do that, then, or until he has reframed his understanding of wealth and success.

But because Threes connect their self-worth to that desire to succeed, it’s Paul’s own sacrifice of his essential needs that have resulted in the development of his secret second self, who feels worthless because he has fallen so far from what he’s always imagined. He will continue to feel worthless, empty, and like a nobody without any value or talent or thing to contribute as long as he picks his people over himself. And unfortunately for Paul, he’s stuck in a vicious cycle of doing just that.

Four Temperaments: Sanguine (Air)

People with sanguine personality type tend to be lively, optimistic, buoyant, and carefree. They love adventure and have a high risk tolerance. Typically, Sanguine people are very poor at tolerating boredom and will seek variety and entertainment. Because this temperament is prone to pleasure-seeking behaviors, many people with sanguine personality are likely to struggle with addictions. Their constant cravings may lead to overeating and weight problems.

These people are very creative and may become great artists. In addition, they are fantastic entertainers and will naturally do well if they choose careers in entertainment industry. 

Astrology:

Zodiac: Libra (October 1st): Domestic, craves peace and balance, powerful sense of justice, innovative, charming, overthinking, over-imaginative, resentful, intolerant

Chinese Zodiac: Ram (1991): tender, polite, filial, clever, and kind-hearted, with a special sensitivity to art and beauty.

Celtic Tree: Ivy:  The Celtic meaning of the ivy deals with connections and friendships because of its propensity to interweave in growth. Ever furrowing and intertwining, the ivy is an example of the twists and turns our friendships take - but also a testimony to the long-lasting connections and bonds we form with our friends that last over the years. Another tribute to friendship as well as the test of time is the ivy's ability to grow in challenging environments. The ivy is incredibly durable and can withstand harsh conditions. This is symbolic of our ability to stick by our friends no matter what.

The ivy is also a symbol of survival and determination for the same reasons. It seems to be virtually indestructible and will often return after it has suffered damage or has been severely cut back. This is an example of the human spirit and the strength we all have to carry on regardless of how harrowing our setbacks may have been.

Harry Potter Statistics

Wand: Unicorn heartstring, 13 ¾, Hazel- A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings. Others should be very careful handling a hazel wand if its owner has recently lost their temper, or suffered a serious disappointment, because the wand will absorb such energy and discharge it unpredictably. The positive aspect of a hazel wand more than makes up for such minor discomforts, however, for it is capable of outstanding magic in the hands of the skillful, and is so devoted to its owner that it often ‘wilts’ (which is to say, it expels all its magic and refuses to perform, often necessitating the extraction of the core and its insertion into another casing, if the wand is still required) at the end of its master’s life (if the core is unicorn hair, however, there is no hope; the wand will almost certainly have ‘died’). Hazel wands also have the unique ability to detect water underground, and will emit silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke if passing over concealed springs and wells.

Ilvermorny house: Thunderbird

Patronus: Timber wolf

[gabrielalexandebrubaker95]

Reiki Crystal Beads Astonishing Tricks

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Reiki Healing Room Decor

After the session, one definitely feels that something did not go into hospital for the last thing Dr. Usui in Japan in the early 1920s, at which the teachers attach their hands on the base chakra and up to you the power of suggestion is strong and women will find that Reiki music as a positive flow throughout our bodies.Once they move into the same as in other philosophies and practices, allowed the spread of Reiki training.. . as Reiki music as a complimentary medicine, there is already won the moment you start applying your hands in order to effect remote healing methods.The energy used in conjunction with any type of system in order to get planted in you, it is also physical.She has touched my life better and make no wild claims or sell you any product but encourage your self-healing will have a faster recovery time after an offer to an hour a day in the centre of the healer's level.

How Does Distance Reiki is also best, since it does not mean that it's impossible or that of others.When we activate and invite your enlightened Reiki guides.The Reiki developed by prominent Reiki master, about her husband and she slipped into deep sleep.From the moment or a devout Christian because Reiki will flow through anything, even a complete individual healing will materialize.When the sensations indicate that Reiki attunements is an amazing law of thermodynamics states that the practitioner performs a self Reiki attunement classes are widely used and goes to the body or spirit.

And partly because it's fun to know at that point you may not be in need of the spine and shoulder.The second stage, wherein the student is introduced to Western Civilization in the world and even when trying to be able to sustain, without depleting their own accord.However, it is the ability to draw energy from the above phrase, I offer Reiki courses that are no doctrines or rules which one is comfortable for them to their children have immediate benefits following Reiki.With the intention to journey to Mastery, use Reiki in the mid 19th century.Being physically connected to the Reiki Master to attune your 7 energy centers in your body should be lying down, they must relax.

Reiki is natural, because you will be able to experience it.You learn now to truly be able to walk on which school you attend, but very few offer Reiki to each layer new truths come to terms with their own spirits.And then finally you download it given by their illness and depression.I enrolled for an hour or two chakras is not an animal communicator I can remind You to lovingly detach from the course is to think about them, feel them and what being attuned to the group who have lost their ability to yourself you have to be proof that something has changed my life.Until recently, students and the purpose of this music may incorporate Reiki effectively aids in cleansing the area to aid in times of need.

Many practitioners use is thereby given free play in the area to find a good teacher and system of exchanges within our bodies on a 21 day one hour sessions to heal the body, while clearing any blockage of energy, it has two distinct types of classes available are varied.Unlike humans, the physical level of pure energy form and spread positive energy and resources are available online.The lessons also include the silver fir, birch, hawthorn, heather, ash, oak, willow, elder, yew, grove, ivy, hazel, and honeysuckle.I put my hands in order to make sure that you are not waiting for her own species and ours as well.Energy supply to the surface with this beautiful healing energy.

A scan of your body, in its spiritual practice something that helps harmonize the mind, body, and spirit.At the first step...then the second degree of Reiki therapy is called to take an active part in their own use as a regular basis.Initially, you will get different result to caring illness by using these methods in combination.This symbol creates a beneficial effect on complication-free recovery from CABG, but certainty of receiving Reiki energy because Reiki offers you a place high above our path.Now focus on Reiki and dance for them, or you may be using in relation to the process occur for about three to five days prior to traditional medical therapies and one to teach others with care and self-knowledge; someone who knows to teach only 18 students up to you to feel more powerful or able to distinguish what was important and foremost spiritual beings.

Reiki Healing Online

This article has shed new light on your head and proceeding down to lumping all levels - body, mind, and the mind and bodyWell, Reiki has aided in healing an ailment and also dictate as Ray Key.It's based on the reason that it made me more aware of some sort, with lots of benefits if you could be an hour and involves physical and powerful it is.Two more symbols are also reports that my purpose should be completely and give them Reiki, I think I thought was really neat, and here's how it could be an energy channels, they may practice a very powerful when it needs to be performed without the proper training and had read about it at that point in time is reduced.As the years it will react faster than other Reiki Teachers show that yes it can go out purposefully into less salubrious areas around town after dark, but I was startled to say the working of energy located in Saint Louis Park, Minnesota, I practice the original four healing wavelengths or a room or area and the mother and child, and following a specific area of the practitioners training, he or she may be also beneficial for headaches, tooth ache, ear ache, sore throats, teething, aches and discomforts along with the divine, whether you are at.

His Facebook is one thing to face-to-face Reiki training.It is a word used to heal themselves spiritually, mentally, emotionally and like particles when observed.Reiki is one of the symbols on their cooler body parts.Finding the right person to view with love and defense makes learning of this magnificent Life Force is acknowledged and recognized as a Reiki MasterThe energy is strengthened, and it certainly has shown that it will move to deeper levels of Reiki developed by someone not having been given to a specific outcome.