#no seriously i love all these peeps so i will be happy whoever wins

[butwhyduh]

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @azothel donated $50, and requested ‘jealous Sam with implied Dean/John.’ Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Summer in Arizona. Sam thinks it might actually be hell. He’s laying spread eagle on his bed, stripped down to t-shirt and boxers, and this absolute dump of a motel only has an evaporative cooler and so the whole place smells like wet dust. He’s got his eyes closed, concentrated on not moving, and if he doesn’t move then he can pretend like it’s damp instead of sticky--cool, instead of muggy--but unfortunately it doesn’t stop his ears from working, because Dean’s on the phone with Dad. Again.

“Yessir,” Dean says, quiet. Corded phone up near the door and he’s got it pulled all the way over by the mini-fridge. Like if he’s far enough away somehow Sam won’t notice. “Yeah, we got it taken care of. When do you think you’ll--”

Be back, cut off. That’s what Dean always wants--Dad, back, the three of them faking at happy families. Sam opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling fan, slow its only speed. They aren’t exactly a Norman Rockwell painting. Sam doesn’t know why Dean pretends otherwise.

“Yeah,” Dean says, soft, and it’s nasty the way Sam’s gut immediately takes a downward turn. He draws up on his elbows, looking past the screen into the tiny kitchenette. Dean, leaning against the wall with his shoulders hunched in, the cord tangled in his fingers. Chick from a movie talking to her crush, Sam thinks, and his second thought is--worse. “Yeah, Dad. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs. When he turns around he’s surprised for some reason, seeing Sam watching him. “Dad’s gonna be another week,” Dean says, and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. He’s still wearing jeans, and that Ozzy tour t-shirt they found at the thrift mart. Overdressed, to Sam’s mind. Dean flaps his shirt, his white belly showing. “How do people live here. It’s so frickin’ hot, man.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, sounding braindead. How do they live.

They weren’t supposed to be here. California, Dad had promised, and Dean lit up with talking about going to the beach, cool breezes and girls in bikinis. Of course, when they stalled out here with five hundred miles to go, because Dad caught wind of weird deaths in the Chiricahua Mountains, Dean didn’t complain a peep. He went out with Dad one night--left Sam alone, in this same dumpy motel, to stew and worry--and then he came back by himself the next morning, fretful but loyal. Told Sam, Dad’s got it covered, don’t worry. Like that was what Sam was worried about. Dean had a bruise, on his shoulder, when he came back. Sam laid awake, wondering--knowing. Knowing. He’s always known.

The motel has a pool, if you can call it that. A crappy small kidney bean with no shade, carved out of bleached-white kool deck. It gets locked up at night but they figured out pretty quick that the motel manager’s a drunk and doesn’t give a damn what they do, and so it’s something to occupy them at night--a padlock Sam could’ve picked when he was nine, a six pack of beer they share because Dean can actually get it legally, now. “Not as fun that way,” Dean says, shrugging. Sam rolls his eyes and shoves water at his face, which makes Dean splutter predictable as ever--which makes him dive for Sam, predictable as ever--which means they wrestle, trying to dunk each other, and Sam’s got new height but Dean’s got more experience, and Sam wants to win but--but Dean’s skin is slick-silk, even in the over-chlorinated water, and he’s warm and weightless, and whoever wins Sam’s held right up close against his body and has Dean laughing and right here, right here, with him and nowhere else.

Nobody comes out this way. Not this time of year. There’s a tired hispanic family that checks in, one night, and they have a pretty daughter maybe Sam’s age--who smiles at Dean, shy but interested, and Dean grins at her, blows her a kiss, until her dad sees and she gets berated in a quiet barrage of Spanish. “Dude, I am an international man of mystery,” Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes and says, “Okay, Austin Powers,” and that was--shit, a mistake, because he knows that instantly Dean’s going to do his terrible Mike Myers impression--but then the phone rings in their room, and Dean’s face changes instantly, and he disappears inside while Sam bangs his head back against the stucco. He doesn’t need to hear to know Dean’s saying, obedient, yessir. Sam looks out at the fire-colored sunset and wonders, bitter, if Dean’s dick gets hard every time he does.

Sick. Not that Sam has room to throw stones. When they finally drag themselves out of the pool--one a.m., four beers under Dean’s belt and two under Sam’s--half the time Dean’ll just change right there, in the kitchenette on, making a puddle on the linoleum. “Dude,” Sam will always say, throwing up hands like it’s gross--because he knows he’s supposed to find it gross--and Dean always says, “Like you don’t love it,” smug. They hardly go out in the day, too damn hot, and so he’s pale, pale, everywhere, his back and the pretty curve of his ass and his legs, bowed out at the knee where Sam knows he’d fit, where he’d slide his hips between them and it’d feel--right. Cowboy legs, Dad called ‘em once, kind of drunk, and Dean had immediately darted a look at Sam and his ears had gone bright red--and Sam had looked away, thinking, yeah. Made for riding.

Seriously, sick. Sicker that he bets he wasn’t the only one in the room having that thought. Sicker, that when Dean tugs up dry boxers and turns around, Sam doesn’t look away fast enough, and Dean sees him and his face does--some strange thing, something Sam doesn’t know how to interpret. His amulet swings in the middle of his pale chest and Sam wants to get up, grab him by it, pull him in. Ask him--why not Sam? Why, if it was going to be anyone--

“Dude, earth to Samuel,” Dean says, and Sam blinks and refocuses. Dean frowns at him, kinda smiling-kinda not. “You gonna sleep in your wet trunks? Get a move on, weirdo.”

“You’re weird,” Sam says, automatic and dumb, and Dean rolls his eyes, throws himself back onto his own bed. Sam looks at him--his knees, spread--his nipples getting hard in the damp cool air--and then looks away. He has to, because if he doesn’t then he has to do something, and he just doesn’t know what to do.

Dad swings by--middle of the night, the next night. Sam’s asleep until the door opens, and then his eyes slam open at the wall away from the door, listening to the low conversation happening behind his back. Everything okay? Yeah, kiddo. Just needed a resupply. Salt and a few other things. Gotta head back into the mountains but I think I’ve about got it cleaned out. Can I help? No--this is a stealth mission, can’t risk it. I’m just taking a shower before I head out. Wanted to stop by and make sure you boys were okay. We’re okay, Dad. Do you...

The bathroom door closes, very quietly. Sam breathes, twice, and sits up, and the room’s empty. He looks at the bathroom door, and the water rushes on, and he can’t hear talking--it’s not Dean sitting on the toilet giving a debrief while Dad cleans up blood and guts, not like they’ve done before--and it takes Sam a minute to realize that he’s chubbing up, his mouth dry because he’s just staring at the pale pink paintjob, and he’s imagining--cowboy legs. Fuck.

They don’t try to wake Sam up, before Dad leaves. The room door closes and Dean fixes up the locks again, and when Sam turns over he’s got his forehead pressed against the paint, his hair still wet and his boxers barely tugged on, and Sam--jesus, how’s he supposed to take it? There’s an engine sound--the peel-out of tires on gravel. Dad’s gone, again. “Good visit?” Sam says, and Dean jumps, looks at Sam over his shoulder.

“Shit, dude, nearly gave me a heart attack,” Dean says. Frowns, after a second. “You woke up?”

“I’ve been here the whole time, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean’s frown gets deeper before his eyes go wide. It’d be kind of funny if Sam weren’t pissed. “Like--I’m not deaf, you know?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Sam gets up, crosses the room, and Dean doesn’t say anything still until Sam’s right in front of him--both of them in their bare feet and Sam’s got half an inch on him, even if he’s still trying to get the muscle--and Dean says finally, “Sammy, what--” but it’s a little late because Sam’s got his hands on Dean’s arms--damp, warm--and presses him back, against the door.

This close, Sam can see a red mark--a circle, on Dean’s shoulder where normally it’d be covered by a t-shirt--and he thinks, sudden sick certainty, that soon it’ll turn into a bruise. “You let him,” Sam says, and Dean looks--actually panicked. Sam squeezes his arms, rocks him a little against the door. “You let him.”

He does. Eager, like a puppy thrilled that its master came home. Dean stares back and forth between Sam’s eyes, mouth half-open waiting for an excuse to come--but there’s no excuse, they both know it, because Sam’s not deaf and he’s not blind and Dean was just in the shower, too, and there’s a mark on his shoulder, and Sam leans forward in raw stupid hope and kisses Dean. Clumsy--too much force, and their teeth clack--but he pushes in, pins their hips together, holds Dean tight, and realigns their mouths right and licks in. Dean breathes shock, doesn’t participate, and Sam tastes inside--beer, but--whiskey, too--and they haven’t had whiskey, not for weeks, and that means--that means--

Dean flinches--licks at him, too--gets his hands up and pushes at Sam’s ribs and breaks their mouths apart. Sam pants at him, an inch away. Dean’s eyes are bright, wide, his lips wet. “Sammy, what are you doing?” he says, like that’s not fucking obvious.

Sam licks his lips, tastes that phantom flavor. He lets Dean’s arms go and slides down his sides, to his hips, and presses forward until his knee’s between Dean’s knees--that open space. Space that’s maybe already been filled tonight, and the thought makes Sam’s gut lurch. Sloppy seconds. “You gonna let me, too?” he says. Dean’s hand splays against his stomach, holding, while his face goes slowly and deeply red. Sam ducks in, kisses his mouth soft and brief. Dean inhales sharp and his face, when Sam pulls back again, looks somehow dazed. Like soft isn’t what he expected. “We’re supposed to take care of each other. You and me.”

“Sam,” Dean says, rougher, and Sam cups his face in both hands and kisses him, soft, and again, and on the third Dean makes a weird small noise and holds Sam’s waist, fingers digging in, clutching and desperate. Yes, Sam thinks, groaning--yes, Dean touching him--yes, he thinks, at the car driving off into the night--because he’s Dean’s but Dean is his, and maybe with this, finally, he won’t be anyone else’s.

[miggy-figgy]

A Five Day Diary on Magic By Miguel Figueroa

Thursday, March 1st, 2018. Full Moon in Virgo. San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Words. The beginning, the end. The life giver and its killer. A word can make you or break you. Yes, the pen is mightier than the sword; but, are you aware of the power of your words? Your words are the first key to magic. Yes, to your magic. It all begins with you. How do you talk to yourself? How would you describe your life? How do you feel about life? How do you talk to other people? Did you know that your words are the key to unlocking your wildest desires? Words have the power to bring you what you want or the force to drive out what you don’t really need.

The first step is the intention you put to your words. Like the saying goes, you need to mean what you say. Go back and think of that first thing you wrote that was filled with desire? No, I’m not talking about a love letter. Your first declarations of magic were probably your letters to Santa Claus or the Three Kings. Remember them? I do! Remember wishing, and wishing, and wishing and wishing for toys, Nintendos, cassette tapes (if you’re an 80s kid), CD’s (if you’re a 90s kid), radios, computers, clothes, shoes, backpacks, trips - anything that you could dream of! And then, on that 24th or 25th of December or 5th or 6th of January, voila! Magic! Most of your first dreams came true. Well, your first materialistic dreams. But see, from the time you were a kid, your words were creating magic.

As you grew or grow older your words will start to take another on another shape - the reality is that they, due to life’s situations, will become jaded, bitter, sarcastic and downright depressing through time. You may start to think, “magic? Please…” You must know - and this is crucial as you purposely decide to dim your light - that your words are like magical seeds. Would you like white seeds for light or black seeds to feed your dark side? How do you want your crop to look like? Lush or barren? It all comes down to the words you say. Seriously! If your life is not 100% then you probably weren’t the best farmer of words. I’m not saying that you now need to start talking as if you were in a Disney movie, oh no. White seeds of word light also protect you, make you stand for yourself and open pathways that those pesky little black seeds were blocking from you. But, if you feel satisfied, loved, in tune with life and on an abundant right track - and I don’t just mean economical abundance - consider yourself a skillful wordsmith.

If you’re not in the best moment of your life, you may be asking yourself; “but, how am I going to find the right words to manifest what I want?” Look no further than to silence. Yes. Quiet. Hush. Zip it. Shush. Cállate. Tais-toi! Are you acquainted with that little voice inside of you that says: “I shouldn’t be doing this… I don’t think this is right… I think I should stop pursuing this or that person… I’m miserable at this job… If only I followed my dreams…” Listen to it!! Don’t ignore it! Your intuition is one of your best friends. This one has your back before anyone else does. You will find your answers in silence.

So, I encourage you to grab a pen (preferably red) and start writing what you want and do it from your heart! Not from your ego! You don’t need any Gucci sneakers to impress anyone. Whoever loves you, will like you for who you are, not what’s in your closet (although I think that’s not the best advice to give in a fashion magazine, but, what the hell…) Write down your dream job. Make plans. Write letters to people but don’t necessarily send them. Heal. Words are the basics of magic. But never forget… be careful what you wish for.

Friday, March 2nd, 2018

Life, as well as words, is the other most important component of your magic. To live is a magical experience. This is a planet that’s filled with magic and you are worthy to receive it and also give your magic back into the world.  

Let’s take it all the way back. Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start: your birth. The fact that you, those who around you and I are here in this moment of time is the most magical thing that can ever be. Walking is magic. Breathing is magic. Blinking your eyes is magic. The ability to read, recognize words, symbols, places and things are secret magic tricks of the universe that no one really takes time to think about. But, really… think about it, even if you’re just another cynical magazine reader, don’t you think all of that is magic? You may be thinking, “Oh, that’s all physiological and there are logical, scientific facts to all of that.” Yes, you are right. But, if you don’t sometimes see life through magical colored specs you really are going to miss out on all the opportunities that life is giving you at even this single moment to manifest your magic. Haven’t you ever had one of those days that you find money in an old jacket? Or that you run into a dear friend you haven’t seen in years? You land the job? You move somewhere you’ve always wanted to? Someone pays for your lunch just because? Or even, you’re in a long cue and someone says ‘oh please, go ahead, I can wait.” Luck! Serendipity! Casualties! All magic.

But, sometimes we may feel that there is no magic in our lives. You may think, “What does this person know about life? My life is a nightmare and I detest it.” Guess what? I’ve been there, probably everyone has and a pity party won’t get you very far. One of the key elements to having a magical life is to trust. If life doesn’t seem very magical to you at this moment, the universe is testing and pushing you to get a hold of your magic wand and start turning your life around. We all have the opportunity and power to do so. If you’re in a rut, a place of discomfort can seem as a comfortable, familiar and safe place to be. Leading a life like that will only suck the magic out of you.

So, what can you do to start making your life magical? Pen and paper. Red pen! Don’t forget. Your magic means something and it’s worth more than anything from the Louis Vuitton Supreme Collection. And believe me, I want a couple of things from it. Who doesn’t? If you’re content with life - you feel pleased, accomplished and you can look back and say, “Wow! My eight year old self would have never believed that I would be here now!” then you are part of the magic of life. I’m very pleased to have you on this journey with me.

It’s been a long day and I really should be getting to sleep, but don’t worry, I’ll tell you some of my magic secrets on the next entry.

Sunday, March 4th, 2018

In order to lead a life filled with magic, there are some things you will need to assist the process of creating the good kind of magic. It is my pleasure to share with you some of the helpers that I’ve found along the way. If you try at least one of them, you are in the path to magic. Enjoy.

1. The first thing you need in order to create magic is silence. Silence is key. It’s the place you go to when you need to sort out difficult questions about life and find the answers that go along the way. If possible, spend at least five minutes a day in silence. If you can make it up to an hour, even better. No, don’t worry about deadlines, looking at how many likes your latest Instagram post has. All of that can wait. You won’t find any answers there.

2. Meditation. Life changing. Magic at its purest form and one of the best ways to use silence to your advantage. Look it up - meditation works. Its been proven to alter the brain and nourish you so you can become a better version of yourself. I was introduced to meditation in 2013 by one of my magical sisters and five years later I’m still on it on almost a daily basis. There are many ways to meditate. One of the basics if you’ve never done it is to sit in the same place or chair each day for five to fifteen minutes and let thoughts pass along the way. At first it will be difficult, you will fidget (a lot), you will peep your eyes open to look at the clock and your head may tell you “this is stupid, get up, carry on with your day.” Don’t listen to it! Well, yes, do, accept the thought and let it pass by like any stranger on the street.

My path in meditation began with the Silva Method, a groundbreaking meditation from the 60s that uses alpha beats to help you connect, it’s main mantra is that we are here to make the world a better place so that when we’re no longer here, the world will be a better place for those who come after us will benefit from it. Powerful shit. Then there are numerous buddhist mantras to help calm the mind including from Om mani paddle hum to purify your ego, your jealousy, passion, ignorance, greed and aggression. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo to win over suffering, protect you from difficulties as you help yourself and others reveal their happiness.  Ganesh’s mantra, Om gam ganapataye namaha to clear your path and Laksmi’s mantra for prosperity and feeling yourself (it makes you feel really sexy!). There are just so many. Find the one that’s right for you. I’ve also heard great reviews from the Headspace app and during Hurricane Irma I discovered Yogaglo - a fantastic portal for yoga and meditations. I’m currently riding the Kundalini meditation wave.

In Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving, he recommends that you meditate twice, for 10 minutes each time when you wake up and before going to sleep. Close your eyes and visualize a blank movie screen. Another of my magical girlfriends and Kia Miller, my favorite Kundalini yoga teacher at the moment, recommend that you meditate in a space called “tween time” right during dawn or dusk. It is the moment when the Earth’s electromagnetic field is at its most powerful and you will be able to sink deeper into your meditation. How do you know that meditation is working? A good example is that something or someone who used to bother you doesn’t anymore. You’ll see.

3. Your intuition. Trust it. Really, really do. Your intuition is your body’s radar. We are all satellites. Even if it turns out wrong (like, for example, a lover you’ve been stalking for way too long and you finally have the guts to ask the uncomfortable questions and hear no) your intuition will help you clear shit that you’ve been dragging on for way too long, opening paths to better horizons. Don’t fear it! Listen to your solar plexus!

4. Repetition. Sometimes, in order for something to work, we need to do it again and again and again. Through repetition is how we learn our craft as magicians. Nothing that is good for you will come easily. And if you’ve been asking, “why does he keep repeating himself?” it’s because this is the only way to learn and grow! Practice makes perfect!

5. Speaking of repetition, notebooks are of extreme importance when it comes to magic. You NEED to put things in paper. No, not on your iPhone notepad or your super efficient planning app. A notebook is where things go down, where you plot, plan and organize. Notebooks are is the place where you plant your magical seeds. My recommendation is that you have different notebooks - one for daily planning, one for work, another for creative ideas/projects and a diary. A diary is sooooo important. It’s like visiting the shrink. No, it’s not stupid to be a 35 year old man who keeps a diary; oh no, honey, that’s where you go and release your demons and become a better person along the way. Wake up and jot down three pages daily. You’ll see results quicker than a ray of light. And don’t think, “four notebooks?! Is he crazy?” You probably have 30 half used bottles of moisturizer lying around in your bathroom. Now, that’s nuts! Start writing. As soon as you finish reading me or tomorrow morning just get to it. PS: It’s a great way to meditate!

Time for the Oscar’s! See you tomorrow!

Monday, March 5th, 2018.

Let’s continue. 6-7-8-9. Your space is crucial for the creation of magic. In order to get things going you first must declutter, clean, cleanse and organize your room, apartment or home. Clean it from the inside out. Do it in silence (meditate!), this is a great way to gather and organize ideas. Once you’re done, take a shower, drink two glasses of water, room temperature to control your mile a minute mind, eat oranges and nuts to gather strength. A nourished body is always important. Once you’re done then maybe you can indulge a little. Don’t forget that your body is your spirit’s home. An unkempt temple will only gather dust. Clean it out. This is your magic’s headquarter.

Also, practice some sort of sport. You must keep your brain balanced. If you’re sluggish, try a dance class. If you’re on the firecracker side, go to your nearest yoga studio to come down. Do these at least three times a week. If you can combine them with a personal trainer, this will be even better for your mind’s control and organization. Plus, you’ll get hotter in the process. Who doesn’t like a sexy wizard?

10. I also must stress that you start going to a shrink. Finding the right one is sort of going on a date, but when you find the one, you will know. No, you are not crazy for going to one. You are actually a few steps ahead once you start opening up to a shrink. He or she will give you unbiased opinions to any topic or situation that is bugging your mind. Don’t forget that you need to declutter everything. Ask around, I’m sure you know a friend who has one. Mental health is great for magic. I’m currently in an open relationship with two shrinks - one for when I need to be more spiritual, another for when I need to be logical. Taking care of my mental health has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. You won’t regret it.

11. By now you may be thinking - but what about objects? Knickknacks? Magic trinkets? Why hasn’t he written about what we see in movies or witchy Tumblrs? Start by getting some candles. White ones for protection and to pay respect for your ancestors, they are watching over you. Keep white flowers next to it. Pink candles are great for love. Green for prosperity. Red for more serious protection - they act as bodyguards to your spirit. If you’d like to know which candle works best for you, investigate and keep it to yourself. Magic is private.

12-13. Get your hands on some palo santo and/or sage to clear any space from negative vibes or sadness. They open pathways and help you on your course. If you’ve been in a situation where there are too many negative people around, as soon as you get home, take off your clothes and sage your body from the head on down. Call on your guardian angels for support. Bad vibes be gone!

14-15. Quartz and stones. Also very private. Don’t let anyone touch them! White quartz is the OG stone. They are pain healers, mood stabilizers and overall protectors of your space. Keep it next to your bed. Rose quartz bring love and balance - keep one under your pillow when your head is going into crazytown. If you find Lapis Lazuli it means that you are ready to open the door to your universe, taking you to your true destiny and life focus. Malachite absorb past negative energy and clear you of it. Eye of the Tiger protects you when you go out into the street (it was used by Roman soldiers when they went into battle) and I’ve heard that pyrite is quite powerful for visualization. Charge your stones during the full moon and set an intention - please, be in a good mood when doing so, otherwise your stone will absorb you bad energy!! Compose yourself (meditate!) and get to work. Some need to be washed in salt water, others in fresh water. If you have access to the ocean, sea or river even better. Bathe nude, hold your stones near your chakra points and recharge. Power!

16. If you happen to be in a bookstore and a tarot deck call your attention, purchase it immediately. The tarot is a great guide. Follow its instructions and begin to learn how to read them. Give yourself a reading when the going gets tough, on full moons and before important events. Write down the reading in your magic journal. Some people say that you should draw a card each day to see how the day will be, but I, as an obsessive person chose not to. Offer readings to your friends. Don’t take it personal if they decline. Also, don’t ask the same question over and over. Tarot don’t play. Also, learn about the iChing. I suggest you follow Bobby Klein’s, it’s a great guide to your week.

17. Invest in any or all of these books: The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm Zen in the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz The Mastery of Love, Don Miguel Ruiz The Master Key System, Charles Haanel A Lotus Grows in the Mud, Goldie Hawn Reconciliation. Healing the Inner Child, Thich Nhat Hanh The Alchemist, Paulo Cohelo The Ethical Slut, Janet Hardy Whatever You Think Think the Opposite, Paul Arden Light on Yoga, B.K.S Iyengar The Invisible Actor, Yoshi Oida Any book by Alejandro Jodorowksy Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian Weiss The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron

18. Drugs. I haven’t touched anything in over a year and barely drink anymore but I recommend - in moderation - sativa strains of marihuana (I loved edibles) and shrooms.

19. The word “No”. You have no idea how much magic that one word has.

20. Time. You may be thinking, “I don’t have time for all of this! I have a life.” I hate to break it to you, but there is no life without magic. Once you start taking the time to do some of these things, your life’s schedule will organize based on your self-love, self-care needs. Trust me.

21. And last, but not least… all the magical people you will find along the way. Don’t take them for granted. You’ll know who they are.

But please, beware. Don’t take your magic lightly. The seventh rule in the Eleven Satanic Rules of the Earth, written by Anton Szandor LaVey in 1967 states, “Acknowledge the power of magic if you have employed it successfully to obtain your desires. If you deny the power of magic after calling upon it with success you will lose all you have obtained.” Magic can become powerful beyond measure. No, forget I said that. Magic is powerful beyond measure and you must use it to your best advantage. I truly recommend that you do not engage in black magic. Love spells won’t last long and you will suffer the consequences. But, as in anything in life, it will all be a cycle. Things go up, they go down, they’ll calm down for a while and before you know it, they will be up again. Use your words carefully. Always speak from the heart. Never say something you don’t mean. Magic can’t be fooled. As in anything in life, magic is a constant learning experience. You will learn from your mistakes and eventually and hopefully you will do better. Trust your instinct around those who will try to steal your magic. If something doesn’t click, don’t push it. All of us have the power to create and destroy. Don’t dull your magic recurring to hard drugs for inspiration. Yes, cocaine and amphetamines have created some of the best songs in history, but you’ll have to pay a price. You must destroy unhealthy patterns of addiction and thinking habits in order to create and bring forth the light. Rest and recharge are required. Magic is like a gas tank - from full to empty and ready to go once refilled. As your magic grows, your ego will try to inflate - keep it checked. Magic is a humbling, compassionate, fulfilling and rewarding experience of love.

Wednesday, March 7th, 2018. Boquerón Beach.

I’ve always been a wildflower. Even as a kid, I could never stick to one clique. It just felt strange. Why are you going to stick to the same group of people all the time? How am I supposed to discover new things? Honest, trustworthy friendships will be of utmost importance during your quest and creation of magic. Friendships will come and go. As you grow older they will evolve as your mind, feelings and lifestyle develop. Don’t be afraid to lose friends along the way. Maybe from your childhood, teens and early adulthood you will keep a handful of friends who will know you so well that it will feel like coming home. True friendships don’t reprimand, get jealous nor make you feel guilty because you have decided to expand your circle. In fact, they will most likely celebrate it as you celebrate their evolution as well. Sometimes it will take years for your roads to re-converge but the best part will be that you will pick right where you left off.

Once you start defining yourself as an adult you will start to make friends serendipitously through your tastes, work ethics and places you usually run into. In an age where people are looking down into their screens basically all day, take some time to look around and notice people. Maybe you won’t see anyone on a specific day, but if you do, you’ll feel it and that person will probably do as well. Say hello, compliment them. “Nice hat/jacket/shoes/hair… whatever.” Do this specifically if you live in a big city. One day, one of my magical friends gave me a big lesson as we rode the subway somewhere in New York. There was this gorgeous older black woman with fantastic style. He went up to her and said, “I love your look.” Her face lit up, she said thank you and complimented us. As the three of us reassumed our trips, he turned to me and softly said, “This is a lonely city, filled with people who probably haven’t spoken to anyone in days or even weeks. If you see someone who calls your attention, compliment them. Don’t think twice.” For the next three years while living in New York, I did this at least once a day, even on days when I felt miserable. It feels good, human and magical. I was never refused the compliment and usually I got a genuine compliment back. I happily share this with you. By the way, you look good!

Work with your friends. Share your hard earned money with them. Purchase their art, their products and services. Magic is energy and money is energetic magic. Upon starting a project for the first time, reach out to the people you know and admire the most according to what they do. This will birth another magical chapter in your friendship. If they are busy, decline or forget about it, don’t fret, you have the right to do this as well. But please, do not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever abuse or let anyone abuse you or them with your or their power. Their magic or your magic will start to fade and, I feel, that no one wants that.

Sometimes, you will go through rocky moments with your friends. You’ll disagree, fight and separate. It’s alright. Both your energetic fields are drifting somewhere else and you need to accept this. It won’t be easy at first but eventually you will start to forgive them. As you begin to make peace with what happened, you will begin to compose a letter to them in your thoughts, maybe you’ll send it and/or have the guts to say “I’m sorry.” It’s not easy but it’s magic at its purest form. Your thoughts will have magically reached your friend and their most likely response will be “Oh, I forgave you a long time ago!!” Start re-building this friendship slowly. If they never write back it means they love and forgive you but don’t have the strength to say sorry yet. If they lash out in anger, forgive them and walk away. This person was never your friend. Take your time to forgive and don’t do it right away. By the way, this applies to intimate relationships as well.

There will also be times of personal retreat and silence where all you want is to be with yourself. Go to the movies, take yourself out on dinner dates, go to a museum, walk and walk and walk around. Read books, listen to your favorite music, watch porn and masturbate - but don’t go on dating apps for too long. After my last heartbreak, I found myself spending a lot of time alone. One day, during my usual walks along the park, I came across a beautiful tree which I was able to climb and was strong enough to hold me in its branches. I spent hours looking up at its leaves and one day I started to notice how the branches branched out and thought about myself and my friendships - some were longer, sturdier while others were starting to grow and branch out on to other places as well. The tree let me cry, sheltered and held me. I could go and eat, read books or write with him in silence and even let me go on a date on top of him. This tree became my new best friend. As I write this, I can’t help but remember him fondly. I hope I get to see him again during this lifetime.

Never forget that you are your source of magic and that you are your original best friend. Love and forgive yourself. It may take years of practice, but that’s when magic begins to grow. Now go on and do your thing.

[geekofmanyforms]

New Beginning:Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think, whether it's good or bad. I hope you guys enjoy it. REVIEW, YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! :) This chapter has been edited by my Beta Casey.

Elena stood in the bathroom, her back to me, staring into Jeremy's room. I leaned my chin on her shoulder and looked in on him. He was sitting at his desk looking through his old sketch pad, a reminiscent grin on his face. His eyes held so many memories; happy ones.

He took a pencil from his supplies and found an empty page. He tilted the yellowing pages toward him and began to sketch, his face focused and at ease. I could feel Elena take a deep calming breath beneath me, and I smiled. Watching Jeremy sketch again made us feel at home like things were normal and happy. I reached for Jeremy's door and quietly closed it. He didn't need to see us peeping on him. I wrapped my arms around Elena and hugged her briefly, before pulling away and flouncing out of the bathroom, my mood greatly improved. I bounded down the stairs, flinging my hair into a messy bun as Jenna was pulling her bag over her shoulder in a hurry, her hair getting caught in the straps.

"Jeremy has his sketch pad out," I whispered excitedly as I hopped over the last step.

Jenna looked up from rescuing her hair and smiled brightly, her eyes shining. "You're kidding?" she said, beaming.

I shook my head and grabbed my bag from behind the door.

"Nope, she's not," Elena said quietly, coming down the stairs. "But don't say a word. The moment we encourage him, he'll put it away."

I looked over my shoulder and pointed at her. "Yep," I nodded in agreement. "For once, I agree with her," I said, gasping in fake shock and holding my heart.

Elena rolled her eyes and ignored Jenna's laughter.

"Psychology major. Check that!" Jenna said, check-marking the air with her finger, laughter still in her voice.

I grabbed my new jacket from the rack and slipped it on, smiling at the way it fit my shape perfectly. The silver studs on the shoulders and wrists stood out beautifully against the black. After I finished zipping it up, I looked up to find Jenna smiling at me. "What?" I asked, raising my hands in the air.

Jenna shrugged, the corners of her mouth pulling down. "Nothing. You've just developed a taste for leather jackets recently," she said, smiling.

I narrowed my eyes at her and hoped she didn't notice the way they darted to the thankfully oblivious Elena and back. All I needed was her getting the wrong idea.

I lifted two fingers and pointed to my eyes and back to Jenna. She huffed dramatically and turned to Elena, who had her phone out, staring at it pitifully, her brows furrowed. She walked up beside her and looked down at her phone, questioningly.

"You and Stefan? Update?" she asked.

Elena looked at me over Jenna's shoulder, and I gave her a sad sorta smile. She started buttoning up her jacket and looked at Jenna with an air of indifference. "He knows how I feel and where I stand, and I know where he stands, but it doesn't matter. He's leaving, moving away," she said, finishing the last button and grabbing her bag.

I stepped up onto the last step and looked up the stairs. "We are leaving, Jer!" I hollered.

I didn't wait for an answer before hopping off the step and following Jenna and Elena outside.

I walked a few feet behind them, allowing Elena her space. This was harder for her than it was for me. I could depend on myself, and I had Rebekah. Elena had lost our mother, the only woman she had ever depended on for relationship advice. Not that she could have discussed this relationship with our mother, but I understood that she felt like she had nowhere to turn and vent her feelings.

Elena and Jenna parted ways at her car, and I slipped into the passenger seat.

"Not taking yours today?" she asked, leaning down and looking at me with a quirked brow.

"Nah, don't feel like it. I'm leaving the driving to you today, sis," I said, laying my head back with a smile.

Elena swiftly slid into the car and sighed. "You barely talk to me, and now I've been reduced to chauffer. Great sister, you are," she snipped.

I rolled my eyes and slipped in my headphones, slapping my hands together, and snapping my fingers. "Onwards!" I obnoxiously shouted over my music.

Elena leaned over and took my phone, glancing at the title of the song that was playing before putting my volume on full blast with a mischevious smile. I yanked my headphones from my ears with a yelp of startled pain, and jumped, hitting my head on the top of the car.

"Now we can go," she said smugly, pulling out of the driveway.

I rubbed my ears and squinted my eyes at her in surprise. That was sneaky.

"Five points to Elena," I said wryly.

Elena turned her head and looked at me in confusion, her eyes scanning my face. She turned her gaze back to the road, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel with force.

"Are you sure, Ellie?" she whispered.

I watched the side of her face, the tension in her forehead, causing wrinkles. I laid my cheek against the seat and sighed. "Expect a war, Lena. I won't go easy on you, my dear twin,"

Her face smoothed a bit, and she inhaled, holding it in for a brief moment. "I am sorry," she whispered, almost to low for me to hear.

When I chose to ignore her nearly silent apology, she smiled and fisted the air in triumph. "Team Elena for the win!" she shouted.

I giggled and rolled my eyes in exasperation. It had been years since we had played our little game. It wasn't something our parents had ever approved of, but it had always helped us solve even our worst fights. Our childhood therapist had called it a very unhealthy form of sibling rivalry. We chose to put pins in her seat as retribution. Well...that had been my idea; mine and my imaginary friend Rebekah.

We had been about six years old, shortly after the whole fixing Elena's broken arm with magic and then breaking her nose incident. Even though Elena and I were not very close, we still fought and had the little sibling games we shared together. Ours were just a little rougher than your average family. We would torture each other, the only rules being, it had to be a surprise attack, and there could be no bodily harm nor anything cruel. So it would end up being things like nightly haircuts, hair dye in the conditioner, white-out on our less important homework, salt in the sugar container.

Little things, and in the end, whoever had the most points won. The person who was hit with the attack, awards the points, based on the level of cleverness used. If the attacker thinks the points aren't fair, they can go to a third party who is chosen at the time the game is started. Once the game is over, the fight that had started it all was never allowed to be mentioned again. The battle was supposed to be punishment enough.

It was a silly childish game, but to be honest, I missed my sister. I hoped that what Jeremy would do to her when he found out the truth, would be enough to help her learn her lesson, not to mention, everything that was to come. Plus, I really didn't have much time to waste on fighting.

"Don't get too excited Lena, you're only five points ahead, and we both know who the real master of this game is," I said with a cruel smile.

Elena pulled into the school and grinned madly. "Not this time. We're older now." she took the keys from the ignition as I hopped out of the car. "Who is the third party? Same as always?" she asked as she exited the car.

I walked up beside her and placed my hands in my jacket pockets. "If he'll do it. He is the best," I said with a nod.

Elena and I started inside side by side. "Always fair," she agreed.

"Ok, we will ask him then. Truce until then?" I asked, facing her as if we were about to duel.

She eyed me warily, scanning me quickly before slowly reaching out her hand. Bonnie and Caroline joined us but stood quietly when they noticed our position. "Truce until our third is called," Elena said seriously, eyes on my hand.

We joined hands, and immediately Elena's shoulders loosened, and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Truce," I giggled, pulling away.

"Oh...God, no!" Caroline called out her hands on her mouth.

Bonnie rubbed her face and rolled her eyes. "Seriously, guys? The Gilbert Twin Wars? I thought those days were behind us?" she said in exasperation.

I put my arms around Elena and smiled brightly, my eyes shining with evil. "It's time. War has returned my fellow friends. Prepare yourselves," I said in my best movie trailer voice.

Tyler came up behind me and pulled me against his chest with a feral grin. "Did I just hear what I think I did?" His eyes lit up as he placed his chin on my shoulder.

Elena's nose twitched as she took in our position with distaste.

"Did Bon just say The Gilbert Twin Wars was back?" he asked.

I pulled away from him and matched his feral grin. "Yeah. You're team Elara, right?" I asked with a wink.

He clapped me on the back, and I winced, only slightly.

Damn wolf strength.

"Aren't I always? Have been since we were six," he said with a grin.

I clapped my hands together and laughed, sticking my tongue out at Elena.

"Remember the rules, Ellie. Moral support, ideas, and supplies. That's all they can help with," she said, shaking her finger.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "I know that, Lena. I don't cheat. Set up and execution is Gilbert only ground," I said, my voice sing-song towards the end.

Bonnie laid an arm on Elena's shoulder and winked at me. "Team Elena, as always. Sorry, El," she said.

I shook my head and grabbed Caroline. "That's ok. Sounds fair, to which I think you'll agree. It'll give everyone exactly the same advantages to use. If you catch my drift," I said with a wink.

Bonnie shook her head with a laugh. "Yep, my thoughts exactly," she said.

I turned to Caroline and narrowed my eyes. "Caroline?" I asked.

Caroline backed away slowly. "Last time I lost an inch of hair. I think I'll steer clear this time. I love you, though," she said, walking swiftly into class with Matt.

Tyler sighed and chuckled maniacally. "That was her fault. I tried to tell her that the conditioner was contaminated," he said.

I bit my lip when everyone started laughing around me, Bonnie covering her bright face with her hand.

"She always did leave her conditioner on too long," I said with a giggle.

Tyler pushed me, and I gave him a quick wave as we all went our separate ways.

—-

Elena and I walked outside after our classes ended. I was happy to see her look so much brighter than she had the last few days. This whole ordeal with Stefan was really hurting her. That's why when I saw him sitting on the table outside waiting for her, I was more than a little irritated. I pushed past her, pulling away when she tried to take my arm and stepped right in from of him, my eyes hard.

"Stefan Salvatore, you seriously better have a perfect excuse for being here. You're breaking my sister's heart, pulling away from her like this. And to just show up again, that's cruel," I whispered harshly.

Stefan looked down at me, his eyes soft, and smiled gently. "I see someone has forgiven her," he said.

I elbowed him in the stomach as I turned around, enjoying his light groan. "You've chosen for that to be none of your business, Stef, because, ya see, you're not just leaving her...brother," I said as I walked away.

I could hear his soft intake of breath but kept walking. I didn't need to turn around to know I had gotten my point across. Elena was waiting for me a few feet away, I took her hand in mine and gave her a hug.

"Call me if you need me," I whispered in her ear.

She pulled away with a nod, and I watched her join a newly darkened Stefan. I walked home quickly, using my magic to give myself a natural boost, using the woods as cover. By the time I had hit the front porch, my hair was windswept and clothes ruffled. I looked like I had stood in the back of a truck while it went 90 down an old country road. I pulled a few leaves from my hair and clothes before I slipped inside. Jeremy was lying on the couch, his sketchbook in his lap.

"Hey, Ellie. What do you think?" he asked, lifting the pad into the air.

I stepped beside him and took the sketch from his hands. On the page, he had drawn an image of a vampire, mouth opened wide, fangs bared. I could even see the hunger in his black eyes.

"Nice. Really creepy. What made you choose a vampire?" I asked nonchalantly, handing him the pad.

He looked back down at the drawing, a smile on his face. "I found this old journal in dad's stuff, Jonathan Gilbert from the 1800s. He's kinda a freak show." I sat down on the edge of the couch beside him and placed my elbow on my knee, resting my chin on my open palm.

"Yeah, I remember reading that. He wrote about demons, right?" I asked, edging him on.

Jeremy nodded quickly, sitting up, his eyes wide with excitement.

"He was a writer...short stories fiction stuff," Jenna said, coming in from the kitchen with a smile.

She sat down on the back of the couch and leaned over to glance at Jeremy's drawing. "Wow, definitely creepy," she said.

"Oh. He writes fiction? I figured he was just a lunatic or drunk," Jeremy said, leaning back against the couch pillow with a grin.

Jenna stood and took a book from the shelf behind her. "Well, he was a Gilbert, probably a little bit of both," she said, handing him the book with a smile.

Jeremy laughed, his eyes lightly sparkling with mischief. I shook my head at them both. If they only knew. My phone rang, startling all three of us, and I jumped, falling off the edge of the couch. Jeremy tried to reach out and stop me, but he was too late. I landed with a huff on the floor, my ass stinging.

"Ow, my ass," I whined, my red hair falling out of its elastic prison.

I ran my hand through it, ruffling it a bit, and pulled the elastic band back around my wrist. Jeremy laughed loudly, and Jenna helped me to my feet. I pulled my phone from my pocket, rubbing my stinging backside. I answered without even glancing at the name.

"Whoever this is better to be dying. My ass really hurts now, and it's all your fault," I said in greeting.

Jeremy laid his head back, still laughing, and Jenna swatted me on the arm, her eyes wide.

"Well, your ass hasn't been my problem in a very long time, Elandra. But I'm sure I could find some way to help you out," Damon said, his voice doing little to hide the smirk I could practically see through the phone.

I smiled and took my bag from the floor, winking at Jeremy with a wave. As I stepped onto the porch, I sighed. "What do you need, Damon?" I asked, getting straight to the point.

"You can take this," he said, the voice coming from beside me.

I jumped, spinning around and pushing him against the house, my hands fisted in his dark blue shirt. I chuckled in anger. "Don't. Do. That," I enunciated.

Damon pulled himself away from the house and dusted off his button-up shirt. He noticed me looking him over and smirked; I looked away quickly and shrugged. "What? You know blue is one of my favorite colors on you, Damon," I said nonplussed.

He approached me slowly and looked down at my jacket and skinny black jeans. "Loving your new look. Especially the messy hair," he said, running his fingers through my tangled mane.

I pulled away and took the golden compass from his hand. "This is the one I found in the woods, right? It's a Gilbert family heirloom. I was too distracted that night to recognize it, I just felt its power," I said, flipping it over in my hand and opening it.

Damon eyed me warily, and I frowned up at him. "I'm assuming you know what it does, and you're not here to return it to its rightful owners," I said, closing it with a snap.

Damon looked away, his eyes focusing on everything around us. "There's another vampire in town. Sheriff Forbes showed up asking for my help finding it earlier today. Of course, my ever heroic brother wants to make sure everyone we leave behind is safe. So I need your help finding it," he looked back down at me and opened the compass that was still resting in my palm. "Using this. Figured it was the quickest way," he said.

I looked down at the compass, its needle focusing solely on Damon. "I can see your problem," I smirked. "Sure, I'll help. You run along. I'll wander through town until I get a hit, then I'll call you," I said, closing the compass and pulling my bag over my shoulder.

I reached inside it and pulled out the little black pouch I kept the Blackwood bark in, sliding it out and placing it in between my lips like a toothpick. I might just need the boost.

Damon took my wrist roughly. "You will not approach it," he firmly said, eyes hard.

I took my wrist, pulling away from his grasp, and narrowing my eyes. "And you won't treat me like an idiot. I'm not going to just jump into anything, but I will prepare for the worst," I said.

He leaned in and lifted my chin, looking into my eyes. "Be careful, Elandra," he said.

I brushed his cheek with my fingers and smiled. "I will be. Witches honor," I said, lifting two fingers and placing them on either side of my nose with a giggle. "I've always wanted to do that," I said with a gleeful grin.

Damon's confused and exasperated expression made me smile as I hopped down the porch steps, opening the compass as I did. I stood at the end of the corner and shooed him away. When he finally left, the needle on the compass faced north and stayed there as I walked towards the center of town.

—-

I stood in front of the warehouse, the cold screen of my phone pressed against my ear. "Just wait. I'll be there in a minute," Damon said.

I tapped the toe of my boot on the concrete as I waited. Damon popped up behind me, and I huffed in irritation, at least this time, I had prepared my senses for his sudden appearance.

"You sure?" he asked.

I handed him the compass and tilted my head. "Of course I am, Damon. When am I ever not?" I said.

Damon rolled his eyes and stepped into my personal space. I took a deliberate step back and twirled around him towards the door. "Let's go, Mr. Vampire. There's another one of you inside, and we gotta kill him," I said with a giddy voice.

Damon vamp sped in front of me with a snarl. This would be so much easier if I could just compel you," he groaned. "You can't come inside. I don't know who is in there. It's dangerous," he said.

I crossed my arms and, without even the tiniest movement, forced him to the ground, pinning him in the sprawled eagle position. "I think I can handle myself," I said.

I kept my body still and lifted Damon with my magic, enjoying the way his arms and legs flailed out around him like a rag doll. I gently lowered him to his feet with a smile.

Palms out, I pushed my hands in front of me. "After you, dearie," I said.

Damon yanked his shirt down and took the stairs leading to the door two at a time. He looked around us and quietly broke the handle, opening the door. I entered directly behind him, and he held his hand out, motioning for me to stay at a reasonable distance. I rolled my eyes and kept them on him as we went deeper into the dark warehouse. A squeak of someone's shoe was the first thing I heard before the sound of a gunshot. Damon fell to his knees in front of me as he was shot multiple times by someone in the shadows.

"I have a ton of these wooden bullets, so nothing funky," Logan Fell said.

Damon sat up and tried to remove the bullet from his arm. "You don't want to do this. Trust me," he said.

Logan shot him in the chest with a smile. That's what ya get," he said.

I stepped out of the shadows with an angry growl, red framing my vision, and flung him into the wall as hard as I could.

"Told ya," Damon gasped.

Logan groaned, standing and pointing the gun in my direction.

I lifted my fingers and smiled. "Go ahead. Try me," I said, beckoning him.

Damon cursed, but I ignored him. Red and anger was the only thing I could see. Logan took the shot, and I lifted my palm out in front of me, stopping the bullet in its tracks. It shook in the air between Logan and myself, shaking to move towards its target. He took a shocked breath, and I saw a fear flash in his eyes as he watched the wood start to disintegrate in midair as I slowly closed my hand.

"Just think of what I could do to a vampire, especially one who has shot someone I care about," I lowered my hand and stepped away from him, standing beside Damon, who was removing a bullet from his leg.

Logan followed me, and I narrowed my eyes. "Don't look at me like that, you witchy bitch. He did this to me," he said.

Damon growled, but I laughed and sat down, avoiding the blood.

"I killed you, I didn't make you," Damon said.

I reached over and tried to help remove the bullets, but Damon caught my gaze and shook his head. I blinked a few times but moved away, crossing my arms. Dropping the round he had removed from his chest with a groan, Damon leaned against his knee, and I watched, my teeth clenched. I would enjoy killing Logan.

"See, I know what you and your brother are. I've been watching the two of you, I knew you'd show up here, and I'm glad you did because I have some questions," he said, bending down next to Damon and patting him on the shoulder.

I sat straight and tapped my fingers on my knee with a firm warning in the way I narrowed my eyes in his direction. Logan stood, stepping away from us, his hands in the air.

"Whoa, you might want to watch yourself, little witch. You forget, I know your weaknesses and where to find them," he said with a smirk.

I stood in a rush of rustling fabric and flung him as hard as I could against the metal door behind him. The loud crunch of his bones meeting the hard surface a welcoming sound.

"And you forget who your threatening, vampire," I snarled.

The witch in me called for his swift demise. I felt Damon's hand on my leg and looked down.

"We need to know who created him, El," he said.

I yanked my leg away and looked down at his bloodied shirt. "I swear to the Gods, Damon…"I trailed off, pointing at his shirt.

He smiled briefly as Logan pulled himself from the floor and hobbled his way towards us. I kept my back to him, my shoulders stiff. I could feel him staring at me, but I knew if I looked at him, if I saw the way he kept staring at Damon like he was some superior God just because he had gotten the drop on him, then I would kill him where he stood. I focused instead on the feel of my nails digging into the palms of my hands, as I clenched them tightly. Logan began to speak about the night Damon had killed him, and my ears perked up in concentration. I had an inkling of who had turned him, but I couldn't be sure, not yet.

"I'll answer your questions when you answer mine. Who turned you?" Damon asked.

I could hear Logan lower himself next to Damon, his shoes scuffing the floor as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "How should I know? The last thing I remember is, I had just shot my ex's pretty little niece, and I am about to stake your brother when you grabbed me,"

I turned slowly and sneered when Logan jumped slightly at the growl that emanated from deep within Damon's chest.

"That's it! Until I wake up in the ground behind a used car dealership on Highway 4. Somebody buried me," Logan snarled.

Damon pulled another bullet from his leg and leaned his head back, eyes scrunched up in pain. "Ow, it happens," he said, breathing heavily and wobbling slightly, blinking a few times.

Logan bent down and leaned into Damon's face. I took a step closer and dug my nails deeper into my flesh to control myself.

"You bit me," Logan spat.

Damon looked at the wooden bullet in his hand, his teeth bared. "Damn it," he angrily said, tossing it to me.

I opened my bloodied palm and ignored the different expressions on each vampire. I looked at the bullet and held it tightly in my palm. It was dipped in vervain, which made this whole situation worse.

"It had to be you," Logan said eyes hard.

Logan leaned closer, and Damon, who I could see, was losing his patience, narrowed his eyes to slits, and sneered. "You have to have vampire blood in your system when you die. I didn't do that. Some other vampire found you, gave you their blood," he spat.

Damon groaned heavily and fell back onto the ground. I lowered myself to my knees and sat behind him, pulling him against me.

"We're not going to be able to play this game much longer, Day," I faintly whispered in his ear.

I could feel him chuckle and see the small smile they briefly crossed his face. It had been a very long time since I had used that nickname. It was something my brothers had called him often, much to his displeasure.

"Who?" Logan growled.

Damon sat up further, wobbling from side to side, and looked at Logan in annoyance. "That's what I wanna know," he said.

Logan waved the gun around in front of him as he bounced lightly on his heels.

"Dude, it's not like the welcome wagon was waiting with a bundt cake and a handbook. It was a learn as you go process. You know, one minute, I'm a small town on the rise news guy, and the next thing I know, I can't get into my own house, because my foot won't go through the door," Logan said.

I snickered lightly, and Logan swung the gun in my direction. Damon's eyes flickered black, and I covered my face and frowned. "That's terrible, Logan. You have to be invited in, ya know," I said matter of factly.

I patted Damon's arm as he continued to pry the rest of the bullets from the various parts of his chest and legs.

"I know. I live alone," Logan said.

Damon chuckled weakly and leaned onto my arm. "That sucks," he said.

I bit my lip as a small giggle escaped me again, and I could feel Damon's chest shaking against my legs. Logan pointed the gun at us, and Damon sat up quickly, his body shaking with the effort.

"So now, I'm at the Ramada, watching Pay-Per-View all day, and eating everything in sight, including housekeeping," he said. I held onto Damon's shoulder and smiled at Logan with ease.

"It could be worse," I said, shrugging.

"All I can think about is blood and killing people. I can't stop killing people,"

Logan moved closer to us and smelled the air, smiling at me. Damon shifted his weight and moved closer to me, his body pressing against mine, the blood from his shirt sticking to my skin.

Logan laughed menacingly. "And I like it. I'm conflicted," he said.

"Welcome to the club," Damon sarcastically said, shaking his head in annoyance.

I snorted lightly, and Damon slapped my leg. I inhaled sharply and rubbed the stinging skin with a wince. Logan stood and looked down at us with amusement.

I tilted my head and looked up at him in confusion. "Wait a minute," I said.

Damon frowned and looked away from me and up towards Logan. "Cops only found one body," Damon finished.

Logan shrugged and sighed in exasperation. "I left one. I was tired. But I've been hiding the rest of the bodies. They're right back there," he said, using the gun to point towards an area behind his left shoulder with a grin.

I stood to my feet and walked behind Logan to find a small caged area, you could see the bloodied legs and arms of several bodies piled on top of each other. I covered my mouth and turned away, my eyes closed. I swallowed hard and recollected myself, trying to keep my emotions in check, this isn't over yet, and if I lashed out now, I wouldn't be able to stop, not this time.

"You're kidding," Damon said, looking over Logan's shoulder.

I could hear the laugh in Logan's voice and slowly walked next to Damon, reminding myself of the reason we were here.

"They're just piling up!" he said.

I looked down at Damon and sighed, sitting down next to him, and leaning my head on his shoulder. My phone buzzed lightly, and everything happened so fast I barely had time to blink. Logan had jumped, his attention turning on me, and vamp sped in my direction. Before he could reach me though, Damon reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pinning him to the ground, teeth bared and growling deeply, his vampire features masking his face.

"Don't!" he warned.

I pushed myself away from them and stood to my feet. "Hey, it's ok. It's just Elena. She's wondering where I am. I can just tell her I'm running late," I said, my hands raised.

Logan pulled away from Damon and ripped the phone from my hand, looking down at the screen. I sat down on my knees and took Damon's chin in my hand. "I can handle myself, Day. You have got to remember that," I said firmly.

He pulled away from me and kept his eyes on Logan, following his every move.

"Why aren't you at the school, Elara? Do you not plan on being human for college? You and Damon seem close," Logan smirked.

I plopped down next to Damon and laughed loudly. "I have no plans on becoming a vampire, Logan. Though, If I could, I would take it, believe me," I sighed, leaning my head towards the ceiling. I heard the shuffling of his feet as he lowered himself in front of me, and slowly let my head slump towards him, my eyes narrowed.

"Can witches not become vampires?" he asked in confusion, eyes curious. The corners of my mouth twitched, and I suddenly felt terrible for the guy. This wasn't his fault, and he was dealing with it the only way he knew how. I lowered my face into my hands with a groan and felt Damon moving closer to me.

"No, it's not that I can't become a vampire. I'm cursed," When he opened his mouth I held up my hand and placed one finger to my mouth mockingly. "Long story. So, when I said it could be worse, believe me, it could be," I leaned forward and got as close to him as I dared, one arm on my knee. "At least you get to live," I said.

Logan sat back and looked thoughtful. "Why am I so overly emotionally? All I can think about is my ex-girlfriend. I wanna be with her, and bite her, and stuff," he said, face full of childish confusion.

"The girl talk is all yours, Darling," I told Damon mockingly, patting his knee.

Damon sighed deeply and smirked. "Well, you probably love her. Anything you felt before will be magnified now. You're gonna have to learn to control that,"

I nodded in agreement. If Logan thought he was going to get within an inch of my Aunt Jenna, he was sorely mistaken.

"What about walking in the sun? I'm a morning person." he cocked his head, and I could feel Damon move his hand across his Daylight ring. "You can walk in the sun, which, by the way, is pretty cool. The council will never suspect you. That's not in the journals," Logan said with a smirk.

"The journals?" Damon asked.

I tilted my head and looked at Damon. "The founding fathers, they passed down journals to their children," I said with a crooked smile.

Damon narrowed his eyes and smirked. "Did they now?" he asked.

I bit my lip and looked away.

"Come on, man. Ya gotta tell me. How can you walk around in the sun?" Logan asked.

I could feel the tension in the room rising and stood to my feet.

"Who turned you?" Damon asked with a smirk. I paced in a small circle as they argued back and forth for a few minutes before Logan finally stood, his gun pointing at Damon again. "You know, I've been really nice so far, but I will kill you," he said.

I stepped beside Damon as he stood, taking my arm and pulling me behind him. "Then, you'll never know. You're not answering my question," he said.

I tried to pull my arm from his grasp but winced when my effort was matched with pain. He jerked my arm, and I stilled.

"You first!" Logan shouted, pointing the gun in my direction.

Damon's posture stiffened, and he backed me further behind him.

"Damon. I'm ok…" I whispered.

"It seems we're at a bit of an impasse then, doesn't it," Damon said, ignoring me.

Logan shifted and ground his teeth together. "I have things to do, people to kill. Guess I'll be needing a little head start," he said, firing the gun.

Damon let go of my arm as he groaned in pain and fell to the floor, several new wounds littering his chest and side. I looked up, glancing around for Logan, my breathing heavy. When I knew he was no longer here, I dropped to the floor next to Damon and slapped him on his uninjured shoulder.

"You stupid vampire!" I shouted.

His head fell back, and he groaned again, breathing heavily. "I could have killed him, Day. Then you wouldn't be lying here in pain and covered in bullet holes," I said, lifting my hand above him and slowly closing my palm.

The wooden bullets began pulling themselves from his wounds, he yelled in pain as the extraction blazed through him. Still, I continued on, sniffling past the tears that were trying to escape. Once the last bullet flew into the air, I flung them across the room and yanked my sleeve up.

"Here. Drink," I said, lying my wrist on his mouth.

He sat up and pushed me away, his eyes dark. "No. Don't you think I've ripped into you enough," he spat, standing up.

I shook my head and helped him steady himself. "And now you're going to start acting self-righteous about it? Ok, Stefan. I think the blood loss has gone to your head," I said, bending over and pulling my pocket knife from my boot.

I stood and quickly slid open the blade, slicing my wrist in one swift motion. Damon's eyes zeroed in on the blade and pushed me away. "What the hell, Elandra?" he yelled.

I raised my wrist and walked over to him, offering it up to him with a shrug. "You lost too much blood, Damon. Just take some, heal me, and let's go," I said.

I pressed my wrist against his lips, and he took hold of me, drinking deeply. I held myself still until he pulled away, lifting his own wrist to his lips and biting down. I pulled my arm back and cradled it against me as I drank from his wrist until the long red slash I had made was gone. I stepped away from him and wiped my mouth. "Now, let's go kill that bastard," I said.

Damon smirked mischievously and took me in his arms, ready to speed away. "Agreed."

"What were you thinking, Elara?! He could have gotten you killed!" Elena hollered from the other end of the phone.

I squinted and pulled the phone away from my ear, rolling my eyes in Damon's direction. He stood in front of his bedroom mirror, pulling his blood-covered shirt from his chest. He hollered into his own cell phone, where Stefan spoke calmly on the other end. Much calmer than my sister who was still yelling at me. Something about my untimely death? As if that wasn't imminent anyway.

I flicked my wrist with a heavy sigh and laid back on Damon's bed, my cell phone floating in the air near my ear.

"Listen, Elena. I can handle myself, really I can. If I want to help Damon, I am going to, and there really isn't a thing you can say that will change my mind. Yelling at me only makes me enjoy helping him," I said truthfully.

She scoffed on the other end, and I winced.

"That sounded childish, but it's true. I've never liked being told what I can and cannot do. Goes back to the days when I had no rights as a woman,"

I smiled when no sound came from Elena, and I looked up to find Damon standing over me.

"Listen, Lena. I'll see ya in a few. Bye," I said, reaching for my floating phone and hanging up.

"No rights, huh?" he asked, leaning down, one arm on each side of me.

"Yep. I hated it. So I don't really like reminders,"

He smiled down at me, and I opened his unbuttoned shirt, running my hands over his healed chest.

"Are you feeling ok?" I asked in concern, my brows furrowed.

He watched my hands move across his chest, and his eyes fluttered closed when my hands slid across his stomach.

"Much better," he said.

I leaned forward and rolled him over, sitting astride up. I slowly buttoned his shirt, keeping my gaze on his. His blue eyes glimmered in the firelight.

"Good. Next time, don't try and protect me. I don't need you too," I said, fastening the last button with a wink and a small flourish.

I tried to move away from him, but he held my hips tightly, a strange glow in his eyes. "You could come with me," he whispered.

I held my breath, unsure I had heard him right. "What?" I asked.

He sat up and held me close to his chest. "I'm leaving after this. I came here, for one thing, Katherine. Now that I can't get her, I'm leaving,"

He ran his hands through my hair, and I stayed still, shell-shocked.

"You could come with me, we could find a way to break your curse together, just us."

He watched me closely, and I felt tears run down my cheeks. "So, what you're telling me is, now that you can't have Katherine, you want me to run away with you, knowing full well that I am going to die?"

Tears fell onto my shirt. I slid off of him, and, thankfully, he didn't fight me. I wiped the tears from my face and chuckled.

"Damon, I told you I would not play second fiddle,"

I turned around and faced him. He had stood and started towards me, his face ashen.

"I also will not run away from my family. I will spend my last days here, Damon. Not playing Katherine's understudy,"

I wrapped my arms around myself, my heart dropping to my feet. Damon stopped his journey towards me and ran his hands over his exhausted face, his eyes hardened as he shook his head.

"That's not what I want…" he started.

I raised my hands and stepped past him.

"You don't even know what you want, Day. So please, spare me."

I stopped in my tracks and turned on my heel, meeting his oceanic gaze with a dry laugh.

"God, ya know, I'm being completely hypocritical. I don't really know what I want either,"

I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration, another pair of blue eyes flashing in my mind's eye. I squashed the thought before it could fully form.

"All I know is, every time I'm around you, I get lost. After all this time...and even after everything you have done...I still love you." I gasped out, shocked by my own words.

I grasped my hair in my hands and closed my eyes for a moment taking in the words and the meaning behind them. When I had finally opened my eyes again, it was only after coming to terms with the truth. I did still love him, as bad an idea as that was, it wasn't something I could help. I looked at the man I loved, his dark hair disheveled, face pale as he stood as still as a statue, expressionless. His eyes never left my face, but I wasn't sure if he was seeing me. There was so much fear there, so much anger. His eyes were the only thing not blank. So many different things swimming through them and then just as quickly sinking back towards the bottom. I shook my head and brushed my hair away from my wet face.

"I should be over you, but I'm not, and it's killing me," I said, my hands fisted in front of me.

I closed my eyes tightly and enjoyed the way they burned. When I finally opened them again, Damon stood in front of me, his eyes cold.

"You can't love me," he said.

I stepped closer to him and shook my head. "Fine. I don't love you, then. Let's say I never did, does that make you feel better," I said flatly.

He took my wrists in his hands, and I looked away from him. "Don't say that. Never say that," he said.

I yanked my hands from him and walked swiftly towards his door. "That's what you want, isn't it? My hate?" I asked over my shoulder.

I didn't wait for a response; I just kept walking. I stood by the door and waved my hands over my feet before speeding away into the night.

—-

The intersection was clear as I stood in the middle, waiting. I felt a slight breeze and smiled. "Hello, Stefan," I said.

"What are you doing here, and how did you figure out where to be?" he asked, taking my hand and pulling me to the side of the road.

I inhaled deeply and sighed. "Well, I watched him kidnap my best friend and sped off ahead of him." I looked at Stefan in anger. "I'm going to fucking kill him, Stef," I said, my eyes blazing.

"I think we should let her have her fun, brother," Damon said.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Stefan narrowed his eyes at me, but I just shook my head. "Not now." I mouthed.

He nodded, and I smiled thankfully. Damon tilted his head and smiled.

"Here he comes," he said.

I stepped closer to the road and looked at the bright headlights that we're barreling towards us with an evil sneer. Stefan took my hand and pulled me back. "Let's allow the indestructible ones to go first, shall we?" he asked.

I bowed lowly and motioned for him to go ahead. "After you then," I said.

He grinned broadly, and I shook my head in amusement, clapping my hands. "This is going to be so much fun!" I giggled loudly.

Damon and Stefan watched me with odd expressions as the car slowed to a stop at the intersection. Stefan sent me a wink, and vamp sped to the driver's side, pulling Logan from the car and slamming him into the pavement as hard as he could. I stepped in front of the car and looked down at the startled Logan.

"Eh, 7 points, Stef," I said.

Logan stood and inched towards me, Damon came out of the woods, gun in hand and shot him in the chest. I smiled as Logan fell to the ground in a groan of pain.

"As much as I hate saying this; 10 points to Damon for flair," I sighed.

"Paybacks a bitch isn't it," Damon said, bending next to Logan.

I ran around the car and pulled open the passenger side, taking an unconscious Caroline into my arms. "Oh, Care Bear," I said, checking her pulse.

Stefan joined me, and I slipped her into his arms. "She's ok. Get her outta here," I said, brushing her hair from her eyes.

Stefan kissed my forehead and sped her away. I walked back around the car and found Damon talking to the Sheriff. "She's ok. I'm on Elm Street," he said, hanging up.

He tossed the phone into the car and walked to the back, opening the truck and removing the tire iron. I smiled brightly down at Logan and lowered myself to my knees. "We're gonna try this one more time. Who turned you?" I asked.

Logan looked at me and then back to Damon, who swung the tire iron like a baseball bat. "You better answer her. We've had an awful day, and I'm pretty sure taking some of our frustration out on you would make us feel a whole lot better," he said with a smirk.

I swung my hair over my shoulder and looked down at my nails. "I have to agree. I could definitely use a mood booster," I chirped.

"I told you I don't know," Logan panted.

Damon swung the tire iron again, and I applauded, running my eyes up and down his body. "Good form, dear," I said cheekily.

Damon smiled and looked down at the tool thoughtfully. "This tire iron here could take your head clean off." Damon held the iron over his shoulder, ready to swing, and looked down at Logan. "Is that your final answer?" he asked.

Logan looked between us, propping himself up on his elbows and shook his head at Damon in disgust. "How can you side with them?" he asked.

Damon arched his shoulders, preparing himself for an excellent swing, and sneered down at him. "I don't side with anyone. You pissed us off. We want you dead. Who turned you?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Logan yelled.

I stood and walked behind Damon, smiling at Logan over his shoulder. "Oh well. You're screwed," I said.

Damon winked at me and lifted the tire iron over his head and swung it towards Logan, who immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Wait, wait! I do know!" he pled.

Damon lowered the iron and rolled his eyes. "Your lying," he said.

Logan stood slowly, his hands raised. "Do you think your the only one who wants to get in the tomb underneath the old church?" Logan said quickly.

My eyes darted between the two. "Damon...don't…" I said.

He looked at me and shook his head. "If you're lying to me, I will end you," Damon said roughly.

Logan looked at him in fear. "I'm not lying. There's another way to break the spell. We can help you. Meet me at the old church," Logan said, breathing heavily.

Blue and red lights flashed in the distance, and I covered myself with a thick cloaking spell, my heart as dense as the cloud of magic that had begun to cover my body. I had known this was coming, but it still didn't make it any easier. Damons heartbreak was inching closer and closer.

Damon stepped next to Logan, the tire iron raised above his head. "Take me down. Make it look real. Make it look real!" he snapped.

Logan pushed Damon as hard as he could, lifting him into the air and tossing him into the car before speeding off. Despite knowing he was perfectly ok, I lowered myself next to Damon and looked him over. His blue eyes were bright and excited, even hidden under the fake mask of exhaustion and sadness he had placed there specifically for Liz. The Sheriff's car stopped, and Liz stepped out, rushing towards Damon.

"Where is she?" she asked.

Damon sat up with a groan. "She is ok. My brother has taken her home. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I just wasn't strong enough," Damon said, his voice raw with sadness.

I felt something soft brush my hand as I stood, but I ignored it, instead, heading exactly where I shouldn't.

I sat on one of the stones at the old Fell church, my eyes closed, the souls of the vampires beneath me calling out. I could feel them seeping through the dirt and stone.

"I thought I would find you here. You just can't seem to stay out of the thick of things, can you?" Damon asked.

I raised a finger to my lips and shook my head, eyes squeezed tight. He sat down next to me as I rubbed my temples gently. "There's so many of them down there. Sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. That's why I always avoided this place," I said, opening my eyes.

I placed my hands flat on the cold stone below me and took a deep breath. "I promise I will reunite you with her one day, Damon," I said, my eyes staring at the treeline straight ahead of me. "You deserve to find peace," I whispered.

Damon's phone buzzed, interrupting the silence that followed my statement. I listened to Damon's end of the conversation and understood more and more the bleaker his expression became. When he finally hung up, he looked at me in shock. "Someone killed Logan. Liz found his body," he said, standing.

He reached down and took my arm, pulling me away from the church. "Come on. We're going to figure out exactly how to get into this church," he said.

I lowered my eyes to my feet. "I'll help you in any way I can, Day," I said.

He stopped walking, and I bumped into his back, stumbling over a few rocks that had found their way in my path. He pulled my face up, brushing the hair out of my eyes, and smiled at me weakly. Moving his hand down my arm and into my own, he clasped his fingers around mine.

"Thank you, El," he whispered.

I returned his smile and gripped his hand tightly. "Let's go," I said with a firm nod.

He looked behind us at the church he so believed held the woman he loved, and gently pulled me forward. He sped us towards the Boarding House, the roads empty and quiet until we stopped suddenly. A few feet away, a car was lying upside down, and a man was inching towards it.

A Vampire.

I looked down at the car, and recognition spilled within me.

"NO!" I yelled, running forwards.

I moved my hand back and allowed it to fill with bright blue magic before flinging it at the Vampire. He stood still in shock, his eyes zeroing in on me, as the ball of blue hit him in the chest, flinging him backward. Damon sped past me after him. I flew to the driver's side of the car and slid onto my knees, the glass digging into my jeans. Elena was hanging upside down, unconscious. I tried to unfasten her seatbelt, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"Lena?" I cried, feeling for a pulse.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I found one. I shook my hands profoundly, squeezing some life back into them before laying them on her belt and whispering a spell to release her. The belt clicked loudly, echoing through the car, as she slumped to the hood, her body limp. I took her by her shoulders and pulled her from the car, laying her on the concrete outside. I ran my fingers through long matted hair and checked the small head wound, relieved to find it didn't appear to be anything serious. I laid her head in my lap and cradled her as if she were a child.

"It's ok. You're ok," I said, running my fingers through her hair.

Damon came from the woods at vamp speed and lowered himself beside us. He leaned over Elena and checked her pulse before biting into his wrist and lowering it into onto her lips. She shook her head, trying to pull away, but I held her head still, forcing her to ingest some of the blood.

"Just drink," I whispered.

Once she had ingested enough to heal any internal injuries she might have had, he lifted her into his arms, maneuvering her over his shoulder. He then took my hand and helped me to my feet.

"Let's go. We gotta get on the road. I have no clue who that was," Damon said.

I looked around us and frowned. "I think he knew me, Damon. He had recognition in his eyes, but I can't seem to place him," I said, closing my eyes with a grimace.

Damon lowered Elena into his arms and nudged me. "Let's leave the strolls down memory lane for later, El,"

I rolled my eyes at him and winced as we moved forward. I looked down at my knees and noticed the blood seeping through my jeans. Nice. I ignored the pain and pushed forward.

"Can you get back yourself?" he asked.

I nodded and watched as he flashed out of sight. I looked down at my knees again and wrapped myself in magic.

This was going to hurt.

[woodworkingpastor]

Into all the world... Matthew 28:16-20 Second Sunday of Easter April 28, 2019

Prayer of Invocation

We give you all thanks and praise, O God,

for you meet us in our doubts and fill us with life and peace.

You are the one who was and is and is to come—the beginning and the end—who breathed life into the earth and its creatures.

Our ancestors put their trust in you and celebrated your mighty acts of salvation.

You sent your child, Jesus, as a faithful witness to your goodness and love.

He was killed by the powerful, but you raised him, as the firstborn from the dead.

Appearing behind the locked doors of our fear he breathed Holy Spirit into us and commissioned us to carry his words of peace and mercy to the world.

Seated at your right hand as Leader and Savior, he frees us from sin and makes us a kingdom of priests to serve you forever.

We live in a day where culture can quickly be influenced by new concepts, behaviors, or phrases. Most of us remember how quickly phrases from the TV show Seinfeld worked their way from the show into common speech.  Phrases like “yada yada yada,” “no soup for you,” and “not that there’s anything wrong with that” are still heard in common conversation, all courtesy of Jerry, Elaine, George, and Kramer.  

With social media, memes became even more common, as catchy phrases can now be attached to a photo and transmitted quickly.  Some of my favorites memes are those who show the results of an embarrassing mistake with the phrase, “You had one job.”

I hope you noticed the header above our order of worship this morning.  It’s the Second Sunday of Easter.  That’s an important designation to keep in mind, because the church has historically recognized holidays differently than our culture recognizes them.  Our Hallmark culture puts all the emphasis on the days leading up to the holiday—so we get Christmas songs at Thanksgiving and chocolate bunnies and marshmallow Peeps just past Valentine’s Day.  But the church recognizes holidays after the actual day.  Following that logic, the Great Commission is an Easter text; the resurrection of Jesus reminding us the church has one job:  make disciples.

Making disciples was not so easily accomplished for the disciples and those who would follow them in those first years after the resurrection.  The significant problem those Christians faced was that no one knew anything about what they were talking about.  The Jesus movement portrayed in the book of Acts typically began with outreach in the Jewish community—where there was common spiritual ground—but quickly spread to non-Jewish persons, reaching all the way to Rome within a generation and a half of the resurrection.  

The question these Christians wrestled with was “how do we make disciples?” Starting from scratch, the church had to work out things like how do we baptize? What is the proper way to celebrate the Lord’s Supper?  How do we teach others to follow Jesus—to do the things that Jesus did?

It didn’t take long for those believers to write down an instruction manual in Christian discipleship.  It’s called the Didache, meaning “The Teaching.”  In it, the writers cover basic Christian ethics before moving on to give instructions on how to baptize (running water is preferred but pouring is acceptable if you don’t have access to a river); how to serve communion; how to pray; and how to fast.  What I find absolutely fascinating is how it begins.  Of all the points of Christian doctrine the authors might have chosen to emphasize by placing first in the text, they chose these words:

Two ways there are, one of life and one of death, and there is a great difference between the two ways.  Now the way of life is this: first, love the God who made you; secondly, your neighbor as yourself: do not do to another what you do not wish to be done to yourself.

The writers then continue in a way that might lead us to believe that the first Christians were Church of the Brethren:

The lesson of these words is as follows: bless those that curse you, and pray for your enemies; besides, fast for those that persecute you. For what thanks do you deserve when you love those who love you…when anyone gives you a blow on the right cheek, turn to him the other as well, and be perfect…

They then move on to things to avoid: murder, violence, improper sexual relations, stealing, honest speech.  Pretty much everything we might think to include on such a list.

It’s a fascinating read, for it solidly establishes that those who are Jesus’ disciples—that’s all of us—simply make different value judgments on who and what is valuable, and what things Christians can and cannot do because we have surrendered our lives to Jesus.  Even though the document is well over 1800 years old, it has a contemporary feel because these Christian leaders were instructing their new members and their entire congregations on:

telling the truth

not seeking revenge when wronged

keeping sex within the boundaries of marriage

not being envious, not coveting what our neighbors have

seeking the best for those who make our lives difficult.

It describes these Christian qualities in the midst of a culture where doing things differently than these was normal and acceptable.  It’s not just that these behaviors honor God and reflect our transformation; it’s that living this way was different. Being a disciple of Jesus was fundamentally different from the world around them.  

This is something we need to realize today, because signs that our culture is rapidly moving away from anything that resembles Christianity are all around us. We recognize this, but we want to make sure we recognize the correct signs.

David Brooks wrote a very helpful opinion piece in a column entitled Five Lies our Culture Tells, published by the New York Times on April 15.  He begins by observing the amount of despair that is all around us:  college mental health facilities are swamped; suicide rates are spiking; opioid addiction is rampant; our political leaders tell lies daily and we shrug it off.  His thesis is that our current distress is based on lies we tell ourselves about how to be happy: Lies like:

Career success is fulfilling. Work hard in school, get into a good college, make good grades, and find the career of your dreams.  

I can make myself happy. Just win one more game; lose those 15 pounds; or be more faithful at church. Happiness is something to be gained with one more achievement or acquisition.  

Life is an individual journey. Whoever dies with the most interesting experiences wins.

You have to find your own truth. Choose what values and traditions work for you and go with them.  As long as no one is getting hurt, it’s ok.

Rich and successful people are worth more than poorer and less successful people. This one might just be a variation of the first one.  The more you have, the happier you’ll be.

It would be easy to look at the despair around us and throw our hands up in frustration at the prospects of impacting the culture for Christ and the church. We might be sorely tempted to retreat into the safe walls of our congregation and focus on our own lives.  Or we could remember something significant: today is the second Sunday of Easter; Jesus is raised from the dead and has commissioned us exactly for times like these. The fact that it might be more difficult to get people to take an honest look at Christianity these days does not excuse us from the fact that “we have one job: to make disciples.”

It might look like Matthew 28:19-20 is actually giving us four things to do: go, make disciples, baptize, and teach. It’s a bit clearer in the Greek: the primary verb in this sentence is make disciples.  The other verbs, go, baptize, and teach all describe how we make disciples.  And what is remarkable to me in the New Testament is how often disciples are made in living rooms. Not in church sanctuaries or even in Sunday School rooms—although the Spirit moves in those places, too.  The disciple-making energy of New Testament churches was directed toward people gathered in homes, the exact places where people have traditionally formed deep relationships with one another, where traditions and rituals are passed down through the generations, and where people’s value is based on the fact that they are members of a valuable community, each one contributing to the strength of the entire group.

In other words, the church became the place where cultural lies like those David Brooks describes of our day were shown to be false through the manner of our living.  It could do this because of one theological lie of our day of individualism. In the New Testament church, people are not called to become individual believers but are to be enlisted as disciples within the Christian community, whose reception of the Christian message in faith must be actualized in their lives.

The church has one job: make disciples. Taking this job seriously makes us realize that a faithful church is more focused on transformed lives, not Sunday morning attendance. So how do we get there?  One way might be to figure out how to free people up to have more dinners with our neighbors.  Spending more time at home gathered around the dining room table with our families and our friends, not having so many church activities and meetings that we’re always rushing back here after work for another meeting.  We are surrounded by people who might not be interested in coming to church, but might be curious about someone who has found that joy is found in things like

long-standing deep friendships;

friends who love us enough to tell us when we’re acting like jerks—and whom we love enough to believe them when they say it;

satisfaction found in things other than our career, or our car, or our latest purchase or vacation;

I’ve met a lot of people who aren’t all that interested in church.  But I’ve hardly met anyone who wouldn’t let me pray for them when things were going badly in their lives. That says something.  

What can we do to meet more people like this? Brothers and sisters, we have one job!