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preciouslittletoonette · 3 years

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“Your Daddy”

A self-indulgent Mickey Mouse fic that I just wrote on a whim. Based on a headcanon I made several months ago

1928

“ LES CLARK! GET IN HERE, NOW”

It has been a.... bizarre three years working for Walt Disney.

Back in 1925, when Les first joined Walt, he was truly expecting a temporary job, possibly washing cels and doing a couple drawings here and there. But what once was thought to be a temporary job turned into three years honing his craft under the careful mentorship and friendship of the great Ub Iwerks, someone Les heavily admired.

But that was not the bizarre part.

The bizarre part came in the form... of Julius the Cat.

When Les entered the studio on his very first day, the toon barreled straight into his gut in excitement at the prospect of meeting someone new. Les, not expecting the greeting, barely caught the doorframe in time to stop himself from falling from the sheer force that was Julius.

Rather than amusement from his new coworkers, he was met with sympathy. Making him realise that this was, indeed, a normal occurrence.

The only one who had looked mildly amused was Walt, who sent Les a sheepish smile as he (rather gently) pried Julius off of him and settled the toon against his hip.

“ Heh, sorry about that Les. Julius here gets rather excited at the prospect of newcomers”, he said motioning to the cat, who was cuddling up to Walt’s side.

Les had accepted the apology and was soon introduced to Ub, who after the introduction immediately moved to scold Julius, who looked sheepish and nervous under Ub’s gaze. The entire interaction between Julius and the two men confused Les until two words came out of the cat toon’s mouth.

“ Sorry Papa”

While he looked nonchalant on the outside, the words had hit Les like a freight train on the inside.

And thus began Les’ journey into the bizarre absurdity that was the Animation Industry.

Working under Disney led to Les learning a plethora of things, and some of them had less to do with actual animation and more to do with the toons. Sometimes while Ub was teaching him, the man would throw in advice on caring for toons. Any question Les had, Ub would answer and the man was incredibly blunt with his explanations.

“ So you’re Julius’ father?”

“ Yes”

“....But he calls Walt ‘Dad’”

“ It’s co-parenting”

And some answers were... weirder than others.

“ What do toons eat?”

“ Everything we eat and a little more”

“ What?”

“ Julius once ate an entire an entire paint can, filled with paint. Nearly sent me and Walt to an early grave, the little bugger. He didn’t get sick or anything, oddly enough he looked a lil’ healthier after that...”

“... So you let him eat paint now or-”

“ God lord no! We’re not taking chances in case he actually gets poisoned someday”

“ Oh”

“ Another tip, don’t ever let your toon eat erasers. That stuff will make them sick”

“....Noted”

Though it suffices to say, the years leading up to 1928 was an experience Les would never forget.

It was currently well past 11PM when Les entered Walt’s home, Lillian letting him in and calling for Walt, who was in his office, who then called Les to get to his office.

Les peeked inside to see Walt pacing from one side of the room to another. Sitting on a chair in the corner was Ub, holding something close to his chest as he tried to not doze off.

Both Ub and Walt looked like they haven’t slept in days.

Les lightly knocked on the door, announcing his presence.

Walt ceased his pacing,” Ah there you are, Les. Thanks for coming over”.

“ Well it sounded urgent. Couldn’t leave you two hangin’. What happened?”, Les asked concerned

“ We did it”, Walt sighed as he ran a hand down his tired face before looking to what Ub was holding.

Les’ eyes widened when the realisation of what had happened, finally noticing that what Ub was holding was definitely moving and shifting in the sleep-deprived man’s arms. Ub, noticing the attention from the standing men, shifted the being in his arms until Les could properly see him. In his mentor’s arms...

... was a sleepy small toon mouse.

“ When did you-?”

“ An hour ago”, Walt answered,” We made him an hour ago- but that’s not the point of you being here. Wait right here, I’ll be back”, with that said, Walt left the room to go further into the darkness of the house.

Les made his way over to his mentor’s side, dragging another chair closer to him and sat close by.

“ You okay, Ub?”, Les asked concerned.

“ I’m good”, Ub replied looking down on the toon in his arms,” Walt called me out of work to do this”, he moaned tiredly.

“ You were working?”, Les questioned.

“ I had extra work to do for Mintz because of planning with Walt”, Ub explained.

Les was well aware his mentor was working on things for Walt even while he continued to work for Universal. Ub was providing the money they needed to get the studio running while Walt and Roy went out, looking for new distributers after Winkler Pictures and Universal betrayed them.... and took Oswald away from them.

It was tragic watching everything unfold after Walt and Roy returned from their meeting with Mintz. After everyone just upped and left, leaving the four of them behind. Ub was in a fit of rage when he found out and what happened after that was the loudest, most rage-filled argument Les had ever heard between Walt and Ub. It had gone on for nearly a hour before things quieted down. But they didn’t leave the room they were in immediately, they were in there for a few minutes before finally coming out, eyes bloodshot and puffy despite vehement denies that they were crying. But it was clear as day that they were deeply hurt.

Les hoped to never ever have to go through what they went through.

“ What’s his name?”, Les inquired.

“ Michael Theodore Mouse. Mickey Mouse”, Ub stated with a nod,” It was Lillian’s suggestion after hearing Walt’s original name for him”.

“ And that was...?”

“ Mortimer”, Ub gagged.

Les snorted when he heard the name,” Bless Miss Lillian for stepping up where Walt failed in the naming department”, he joked humorously.

“ Amen to that”, Ub said with a short laugh as he looked down on the toon,” Hear that, Mickey. Your dad was going to name you Mortimer. What an unusual unneeded punishment, eh buddy”, he continued as Mickey smiled at Ub with sleepy eyes.

“ He’s very cute”, Les commented with a smile.

“ Of course he’s cute. I designed him after all”, Ub quipped with a smirk.

Les chuckled,” Of course”.

Ub smiled before looking down to Mickey again, this time his eyes filled with sadness. Les noticed this.

“ Thinking about Oswald again?”, Les asked.

“ Yeah. It’s just..... it’s been weeks since Mintz took him away and I haven’t seen him around the studio even while I was working. I’m worried about him and Julius”, Ub admitted,”.... I initially really didn’t want to do this”.

Les raised a brow,” What changed your mind?”.

“ Walt”, Ub said plainly,” We’ve been runnin’ around this for weeks now- well I was. You probably overheard me and Walt talking about this one night at the studio”.

Les nodded. He had overheard the conversation between Walt and Ub one evening when they were doing checks on the Hyperion studio. A mere two weeks before the current moment, Les recalled. It was far from an argument but there was definitely a disagreement. Ub wanted to wait a bit longer before creating another toon but Walt wanted it done sooner rather than later. The man even had a rough idea sketched out after seeing a mouse on the train heading back to Burbank, Ub just had to create a proper design and then bring it to life. But to Ub it was moe complicated than that.

The man was exhausted, not just from overworking but from the very fact he had not JUST lost Oswald, but also Julius as well. And the guilt and sadness was eating him up from the inside. He was still wounded by the loss and Walt was not letting it heal like it was supposed to.

Not to say Walt wasn’t also facing his own major problems. He was also NOT coping well with losing Julius and Oswald (the latter especially) and his temper was much more explosive than usual from Les’ perspective. He threw himself into his work, dragging Roy everywhere to every film distribution company in the Los Angeles county. Heck, Les wagered Walt’s desperation might even have him go look for distributors in New York. And the man was constantly stressed out and judging by what Walt looked like earlier, even sleep deprived from working this much to avoid his own thoughts to grieve. You could say his desperation and grief was blinding him to his friend’s own grief.

Les winced at the thought, silently pitying his seniors.

Ub continued on speaking,” Distributors want to see the stars nowadays and not just concept art. They want to see and meet the toon and as charismatic as Walt is, he can’t convince them to wait any longer. So I bit the bullet tonight”, he explained, shifting Mickey as the toon squirmed a little in his arms,” But I’m don’t regret this. I feel a lil’ better after making lil Michael here. He’s just too darn active for me to ignore, isn’t that right buddy”, he said addressing Mickey, who was about ready to fall asleep again.

Les smiled at the sight of the toon,” Well I’m sure this one right here’s gonna be the one to boost us to success”, he said.

“ You think so?”, Ub inquired with a grin.

“ O ‘Course! After all, who could resist this cute little face?”, Les cooed at Mickey before turning to Ub,” AND you and Walt have already raised some pretty big stars. No doubt this little one will follow suit with his brothers”, he proclaimed confidently,” You two are gonna great dads.... again”, he joked lightly.

Ub chuckled,” And I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic dad too, Les”, he stated light-heartedly.

Les frowned, about to ask Ub what he meant before Walt peeked in, having returned from where he went off to.

“ Hey, sorry for the delay, she crawled out of the basket and I had to find her”, Walt explained nervously with a chuckle.

Les raised a brow at the mention of a her but Ub spoke up before he could ask

“ It’s fine. We were distracted with talking anyway. Bring her in already so Les can meet her”

Les was highly confused for a second before registering another toon mouse in Walt’s arms that was quickly transferred to his lap in seconds.

“ Les, meet Minnie, Minnie, this is Les Clark-”, and the next words will forever imprint itself in Les’ mind-

“ -Your Daddy”

“ Wait what?!”

#disney #disney fanfiction #les clark #minnie mouse #walt disney #mickey mouse #ub iwerks #walter elias disney #ubbe eert iwwerks #to be continued...maybe

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 6 years

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Imagine: Two Ghosts (PART ONE)

TRIGGER WARNING: ...there’s a sLiGHtly steamy scene. angst**

The one where he’s with Kendall, while she’s standing alone in a crowded room.

“Y/N, for the thousandth time, I can’t come with you, but I promise I’ll get there soon after,” Harry states, continuing to fold his clothes and place them inside the little suitcase and travel pack laying open on their bed. Frowning at his lack of sorrow or any remorseful emotion, Y/N moves closer to him and nudges him reproachfully.

“Harry, this is really important to me. You know that,” she says softly, unable to express how much she wanted him to be there.

“It’s just a party,” he mutters, raising his hands in defense when Y/N’s face fell. It was the Halloween party held in an Art Exhibit where all of Y/N’s friends and her boss from work would be there to support her. The art exhibit held at a museum an hour and a half away was famous for its modern art, depicting the past from the perspective of the current year. Y/N had created a series of pieces painstakingly over the pay two years.

She had calculated every shade and stroke she would brush onto the canvas. Now was her moment to get her art some exposure from some very famous judges coming down to the museum for both the event hosted there, and an art contest awarding the artist with the best technique and most creativity instilled within their collective pieces. Y/N could feel something good coming out of the blood, sweat and tears she had spent on the project. At least, she hoped that was the case.

She wanted Harry to be there in particular, because he was her muse and motivation. The entire piece depicted Harry, from the softness of his curly hair to the hues of forest green in his eyes and the craters indenting his cheeks. The faint amusement and shyness in the purse of his cherry lips as he smirked, and the innocent furrow of his eyebrows. It was him. It was her love on a series of canvases, all set to unravel the love of her life.

Harry didn’t know.

He didn’t know that there was a contest, and she’d entered it with her masterpiece being him. He didn’t know she’d spent months sketching and painting what she remembered from when he’d laugh with his dimples showing and his eyes alit like a child on Christmas Day. He didn’t know she’d spent months putting what she felt onto paper, restarting over and over if the slightest feeling was inaccurately expressed. He probably didn’t know how much she loved him. But that was okay, y/n had decided, because she wasn’t quite sure of the measure of that, either.

He didn’t know she had spent hours and days at a time painting in the art studio downtown where she kept her work, because she was painting him. He had assumed she was working on some other project and that the exhibition event was just a Halloween party. Nevertheless, Harry had been the one to text Y/N repeatedly when she had fallen asleep in the studio, paintbrush in hand as the moonlight swept over her cheeks and hair. He had been the one to coo and half carry her grumpty, half-awake self into the car, where she would fall asleep and wake in her warm, safe bed with him the next morning.

“Baby, you needa eat,” he’d scold Y/N half heartedly, his eyebrows dipping in concern as he lifted her up from where she’d nodded off, standing in front of a canvas and had nearly fallen and hit her head on the hardwood floor beneath them.

“Don’t look!” Y/N yelped, panic in her eyes as Harry merely rolled his eyes amusedly, and brought her closer to his chest when he had her up in his arms in bridal style.

“Only got my eyes on you, petal,” he murmurs, sponging kisses to her cheeks, and down her neck, making her giggle softly.

“Not here, you goose,” she stops him through laughs as he continues to assault her with kisses and lovebites- “there are paintbrushes everywhere, and there’s paint on the floor. Not on the floor, Harry!”

“‘M house and my girl. Can do it anywhere we’d like,” he says gruffly, smirking slightly as he lowers a happily shrieking Y/N onto the floor safely, her body spread underneath his. Silencing her giggles in one movement, he has his fingers pressed there, and she gasps quietly, her fingers fisting before her nails scratch down his back. Biting his shoulder, she tries to conceal her gasps and moans as he moves his fingers in tight circles over the flimsy fabric covering the swollen button of her heat.

“What d’yeh day, then,” he asks, voice smug and causing a confused, flustered y/n to stutter as he stops his movement, removing his fingers and lifting them towards him as if in inspection. “W-what?”

“Want it, then?” He hums, still smirking, but now rubbing his fingers into her hipbones comfortingly.

“Y-yeah,” she agrees breathily. And that’s all the confirmation he needs. Afterwards, he makes sure she has food in her and sleeps soundly.

Now, Y/N was half wishing that Harry had known something about the art exhibit. Even a little detail that would urge him to attend the exhibit sooner. All she’d said was that everyone from work would be dining there, and she might get a promotion (which was true, as y/n really might get one tonight). She had also mentioned the museum it would be held in was famous for its artwork, which was also true. The only part she hadn’t let slip was her involvement in the exhibit. Harry knee how much she loved art, and had probably assumed she just wanted to appreciate it visually, from a distance.

“Promise you’ll be there?” Y/N asks uncertainly, leaning back and crossing her arms tighter over her chest. Rolling his eyes, Harry nods. “Yes. For fuck’s sake, Y/N. I’ll be there.” Y/N was caught frowning at his choice of words, Harry’s expression softening slightly at the fiddle of her fingers. Rolling to her in his rolling, wheeled chair, he pulled her down to his lap with a startled squeak from her.

“I’ll be there, yeah?” He hums, wrapping his arms around her soft waist, pulling her up so her bum was comfortable in his lap. “You’ll see me with a sign with your name on it, lovie one of ‘em from the airport. I’ll be proper dressed for it, too. Maybe I’ll even wear a thong-“

Shoving him back slightly, Y/N let a giggle out as she placidly stayed on his thick thighs. Letting out a shrill, fake moan, Y/N rolls her eyes before truly beginning to smile again.

“Be right there,” he hums, pressing his lips to her forehead. “In the front row, center, button.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Don’t forget to wear a costume though. It’s Halloween themed.”

* * *

Harry doesn’t show up.

It’s a minute past eleven, and the exhibit had started quite a while ago. There were people crowding around portraits filled with thin lines of self proclaimed modern art. There were scatters of university students, the elderly, and the occasional middle aged or teenage person; acting as sad salesmen instead of artists as they tried to attract people walking by.

Some people were drunk on the rich wine the sponsors had splurged on, grinding on the dance floor as if it were that of a club, instead of one with floors that looked like they belonged on palace walls. The room was dark, but there was a dim glow inviting passers going by to glance at the artwork. Vampires hidden in the darkness whisked away ballerinas, demons pulled angels close, and jocks in costume twirled alongside nerds.

Candy was everywhere, but so were ghosts and demons. Statues which burst into life the moment you walked past them.

“Your boobs look great!” Kristina from accounting yelled at Y/N, nearly toppling over from the alcohol she had consumed. Muttering a ‘thanks’ between her amused chortles, YsB found a little enjoyment in the Halloween themed night. A few polite and playful catcalls and whistles were directed to Y/N , from overly drunk people. She couldn’t help but feel a little smug for her costume.

She, herself, was dressed as Jessica Rabbit. Y/N had thrown a crimson wig on, and had gone all out for her costume. From the tantalizing, sexy red dress she had on, and the sleazy expression she’d spent minutes perfecting over the weeks to come. Hell, she’d even switched up her perfume and done her makeup painstakingly flawless. She wanted to look good for herself. Of course she did. What soles her confidence more than dressing up as a symbol of desire in cartoons? She looks good and she knows it. But she also wanted to look good for Harry. She wanted to see his jaw drop at the low dip of the front and back of her dress, the slit at the side. Her ginger locks.

Clearly, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Y/N was jealous. Not of the art. Of the people who had their loved ones right by them. The ones who cared enough to come. She knew it was irrational. At least slightly. There was still at least half an hour left before the exhibit ended with prizes and congrats to the winning artists. She still had time to show Harry. And, besides, her coworkers were dining and gawking at her art. They were clearly excited, even without the buzz of alcohol in their veins and the spark Halloween brought.

So, Y/N waited some more, keeping herself busy with the crowds, artists, and judges amazed by her artwork. She smiled politely and mumbled ‘thanks.’ If the muse for her masterpiece would’ve been present, she’d have been beaming. It didn’t feel special anymore. It felt pathetic she spent months painting someone who didn’t care enough to even drop by an exhibit for a few minutes.

“And the artist winning this competition with her masterful technique and emotionally attractive piece is... Y/N Y/L/N!”

The applause are deafening, serenading Y/N as her heart sinks with every congratulating statement. Her coworkers break into proud roars, and her boss ushers her to the stage, where everyone is waiting to get a glimpse of the artist who had stolen the prize with her technique.

Y/N’s heart breaks more as she joins her artwork up on the stage. Every bit of Harry is captured and waiting, instead of Harry himself. It makes her want to shred the canvases and scream. Her eyes trace over the applauding crowds of men and women in costume, searching for him. But he’s not there. She’d feel it if he was. That doesn’t stop her from wishing otherwise.

The female judge has a bright smile on her face, handing over a large trophy, certificate, and signature sheet allowing the museum to store the art for days to come. The idea of him being there forever causes Y/N’s heart to skip a beat. The judge begins talking, introducing Y/N and her artwork. Congratulating her. The claps and appraising words seem to swerve over her, or go inside her ears for a faint moment, before escaping once more. She feels nothing and everything. All at once.

“And now let’s let this talented young woman talk about her artwork for a moment. Our words cannot do it justice.”

The audience erupts into polite silence, watching her every move.

“Hey, everyone,” she started, feeling clueless and as if she was having an out of body experience while speaking. “First of all, I would like to thank all of the people here supporting me tonight. Friends and colleagues who took the time to attend something that means something to me, not because it matters to them, but because I matter to them.”

The words coming out of her own mouth only make her feel worse.

“I always criticize my work too hard. I’ll create something and use all of my energy, pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into the piece, and afterwards take one disgusted glance at the artwork and throw it into the trash. As they say, an artist’s worst critic is the artist, themself.”

Many members of the audience nod and groan with the relatable habit.

“Everything I create, no matter for how long, there’s always this sense.. this need to destroy it. I find every flaw in something flawless, simply because I created it, and so there has to be something wrong with it. I over analyze my analysis until the unmoving artwork is more lively than I am. I grow disgusted, tired, and I feel like something has restricted my creative process. I wonder what is wrong with me, and how I can still dare to call myself a lover of the arts- or an artist, at all.”

“But I could never grow disgusted with this piece,” she said softly. Tracing her fingers of the places the paint splattered brush had roughly skated over the canvas, the dips and rises of colour, the audience waited for her to finish.

“I could never grow disgusted of this canvas and the splatters of paint on it, because it represents him. The boy I love. And I know it’s so pathetic and it’s so overwhelming to spend months painting an emotion, such as love onto paper. I know it’s impossible to record how fast my heart beats when he smiles. How safe I feel when he’s around. How powerful I feel when both of us are together, in this relationship, as equals. How it can’t be possible to use colour to represent how I feel the pain he does when things don’t work out, or the worry I feel when he scrapes his finger while trying to cut an apple again, because he never learned how to properly. The feeling I get when he looks at me in a room full of people. It’s a sad excuse of trying to portray how happy I feel when I’m with him. When his green eyes widen, because he’s obsessively watching The Vow, and although he knows what’s going to happen, it never fails to make him cry. His hair after he’s just run his hands through it; his hands intertwined in mine, with rings he wears as a ridiculous replica of Mick Jagger.”

“I know,” she whispers into the microphone. “This piece of art can’t possibly accurately show my insecurities and my fallacies and how he’s enough to become what I’m not and I’m enough to become what he’s not. I know that I can’t ‘draw’ the half choice, half unconscious feeling to fall helplessly, incredibly in love with him; but I also can’t not try.”

Clearing her slightly clogged throat, and fighting back tears prickling in the corners of her downturned eyes hotly, Y/N finished the speech.

“The boy I’m in love with— his name is Harry Styles. He’s my muse. He’s the one who these paintings represent; and therefore they will never be disgusting, because no part of Harry Styles is anything less than perfect. This is my greatest piece yet and will probably be forever, and I am so grateful that I had the chance to share it with you. Thank you.”

The audience breaks into genuine applause, with people wiping their tears and smiling real smiles, and Y/N wants to bask in this moment, but she can’t ignore the dejection. The feeling that she’s so submerged, in because of Harry choosing not to show up. Because of him breaking his promise. Her portrait has lost its purpose, in a way. It has failed to even give him a glimpse of how she feels.

But he’s made it clear how he feels.

It’s not even that dramatic, now that Y/N thought it over as coworkers swarmed over her in heaves of congratulations. Harry didn’t ask her to do this for him, but she had. She’d spent months on a series of paintings that encompassed him and how she viewed him, and her feelings for him. He couldn’t even show up one night, after countless reminders.

Y/N tried not to let it affect her too much, but it really hurts when you’re the one who cares more than the other person. Relationships were supposed to be like ones that are symbiotic. With equal care and give and take. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore.

He’s probably not doing something fun, y/n tried consoling herself. Maybe he just forgot.

But it’s half hearted.

“Okay, so I didn’t want to do this so quickly,” Y/N’s boss began, her voice excited and beckoning all of her colleagues closer. “I just figured with the overflow of good news, I might just add.. Drumroll, please, Chad... Y/N’s been promoted!”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It wasn’t that Y/N wasn’t elated. She was. She had been waiting for this promotion for so long, and had worked her ass off for the position. But he was supposed to be here to feel happy for her, too. He was supposed to be here, and he wasn’t. Unlike the times when shed bee at every exhausting concert to support him. Every recording. Every late night when he struggled to come up with lyrics. She’d been there. He wasn’t.

“Oh my God, thank you so much!”

She tries to come across as how she would’ve responded, if she hadn’t been feeling the strange feeling of betrayal and abandonment. After a few minutes of celebrating within their circle, toasting to Y/N’s promotion and success, Chad asks the question:

“So, where’s Harry?”

Where’s Harry?

“He has the stomach virus. It’s really bad. I wanted to stay home, but he insisted on my coming here.”

Lie. She didn’t know where he was. (Truth)

Nodding, Chad walked to Melissa, the receptionist. Pulling out her phone and knowing it would already be a mistake, Y/N exited out of the many frantic texts she’d left Harry, and instead clicked on the ‘Google’ application. Harry Styles. She tapped the search button.

The headlines were differentiating and great in number, but they all had the same gist and idea:

Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner Partying in London

Hendall Back Together?

Y/L/N Replaced With Jenner

With her heart racing and fingers shaking, Y/N breathed raspily and tapped on one of the news articles. Her heart dropped as it was met with a clearly stoned, drunk Harry staring at and laughing with a jubilant Kendall Jenner. She had herself all over him, and he was doing nothing to stop her. Feeling a sob nearly breaking from her throat when she realizes it’s not photoshopped, Y/N makes an excuse and walks out of the art museum, into the dark night with the star speckled sky her witness as she wraps her arms around herself in her dress. As she dials his number frantically, again and again, even when it goes to voicemail. Fuck her exhibit. She wasn’t letting him make any stupid decisions or risk his health by driving home intoxicated.

On the third try, he picks up.

“What?” Harry asks, his voice slow and slurred slightly.

“H-Harry!” Y/N cries. “Where are you? If you’re drunk I can come get you. I don’t want you driving like thi-“

“Fuck off,” he snaps, voice cold and unfamiliar. y/n feels herself shifting into an even darker place in her mind. Harry knew how her previous boyfriends had treated her. How they had yelled and shifted emotions from content to cold so frequently, she couldn’t trust them. Now, he reminded her of them.

Shivering slightly, Y/N begins to speak again when he starts to laugh.

“Yeah, Kendall, take your top off!”

I’m the background, there are hundreds of voices chanting the same thing. Just as the same voices begin cheering, he hangs up.

Breaking into sobs, Y/N types one more message and sends it, hoping he’ll remain faithful and Harry.

I’m coming in five minutes. Please don’t do anything stupid.

In a few seconds, the response arrives:

Fuck off dgnt wnt u hre

She goes anyway, telling her coworkers her ride is here, and she won’t be driving back with them. They’re slightly disappointed, but very understanding, beginning to leave themselves. With her trophy in hand and other letters and such informing her of her promotion and place of her artwork at the exhibit, Y/N calls a taxi and leaves to where Google says Harry is. The internet is a scary thing, but there are far more scarier things.

“Here, please,” Y/N muttered, requesting the cab driver to remain at the grounds for a few more minutes.

The security guards recognized her as Harry’s girlfriend and let her in, immediately. When Y/N enters the party, her brain feels like someone is hammering it. The stench of alcohol makes gag, weed and hard drugs beside stoned celebrities and rich people. The women are topless, and nearly all of the men are stripped to their boxers. Some people are in skimp Halloween costumes. Everyone was grinding or getting high.

This was what Harry would choose over Y/N.

Keeping her head down and trying not to punch every person who made comments about her body inappropriately, Y/N skimmed the area for her boyfriend. Finally, there he was. Chugging down drink after drink with a near naked Kendall Jenner by his side. Walking to him slowly and shakily, Y/N tapped his shoulder, trying not to cry right there. When he turns around, his happy expression turns sour and cold. “Let’s go home, Harry,” she pleads, touching his arm. He shakes her off, unconsciously rough. “No.”

Trying to pull him out again, Harry now shoves her off, his eyes narrowed and fists clenching. His nostrils flare out in anger. “I said fucking no!” He booms. The room grows silent for a moment and Y/N feels hot years skate down her cheeks. “You fuckin’ go home. Stay at your place. I don’t want you anymore. You’re boring as fuck,” he muttered icily. Turning back to the people behind him, he grins again, throwing back another drink as he pushes Y/N towards the gate, security intrusively escorting her of the building.

“Sorry about that, guys. My ex girlfriend’s clingy as fuck. Now, let’s get this shit started.”

Begging the guards to take her back, because she knows how Harry gets nauseous, sick, and his asthma acts up when he takes too many drugs, and although he’s not being himself at all, she just wants him to be okay. This isn’t him. This isn’t her Harry. But, as much as she repeats this to the guards, they don’t care. They push her out and don’t look back.

Sobbing, she looks for her cab driver, and gets into the car. He looks slightly sympathetic, but when she admits she only has twenty pounds, his face also morphs into an icy one. “I can’t drive you if you do not have the money,” he replies robotically, receiving the money and doing nothing to calm a now frantic Y/N, who had used the minimal money she’d brought with her to the event tonight. It’s funny how people only help you when you are of use to them.

And so, she walks the streets alone, lost and scared with sobs racking throughout her body in heavy, loud releases. Her head aches and so does the rest of her body. Everytime she passes a man or hears a cat call, she sinks into herself. Everytime a car whizzes by, she moves away from it. Her phone has died from all the times she’s called and attempted to interact with Harry. She prays she’ll be okay. She prays he’ll stay.

Please don’t leave me.

The one where she walks the streets alone at night, and he doesn’t want her anymore.

i had an out of body experience trying to get this done fast enough so please read this!

MASTERLIST|Requests are open!

There will be a part two if requested.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #one direction #harry styles imagines #larry #harry styles preferences #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagines #one direction preferences

2K notes · View notes

ryqoshay · 5 years

Text

Happy Life: Romeohane

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~3.2k Rating: T’ish? AU: Angelic? Time Frame: Sometime during their college years Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Thank you, tumblr, for removing the Thematic Break function from Rich Text editing. This has made posting my fics here so~ much easier. /sarcasm

Riko looked up from her doujin. Was Yoshiko performing a ritual? Strange, the younger girl typically announced when she was streaming. Riko had always assumed this was mostly out of pride, as Yoshiko unquestionably enjoyed the performances and was proud of the viewerbase she maintained. However, recently, Riko had begun to suspect her roommate wanted her, specifically, to watch and maybe, possibly, even participate.

Riko focused her attention to try to pick out what was being said, but could only determine Yoshiko’s tone. Though the words were muffled by the wall separating their rooms, there was no mistaking the dramatic voice of the fallen angel Yohane.

Driven by curiosity, Riko hopped off her bed and made her way to her roommate’s door.

“As daylight doth a lamp. Her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.”

Now in the hallway, with only a hollow, wooden door between them, Riko could understand what Yoshiko was saying. And she had heard those phrases before.

“Yocchan?” Riko called, knocking.

“R-Riri?!” Yoshiko sputtered in surprise. “C-come in!”

“I thought you were maybe streaming, but…” Riko said as she opened the door.

“No, uhm, sorry…” Yoshiko smiled sheepishly. “I was actually rehearsing my lines and kinda forgot you were here. Sorry if I was too loud.”

“Not at all.” Riko assured as she shook her head. “I was just curious. You told me you got the lead, but you never told me the play.” Though she had a pretty good idea after what she had just heard.

Yoshiko’s grin grew more confident. “Despite this being merely her second production, Yohane has proven herself worthy of securing the lead role in the most tragic of tales.” She announced proudly, striking a pose. “A classic story scribed by none other than the Bard himself, about star-crossed lovers and their regrettable fate.”

“You club is performing Romeo and Juliet?”

“I was just about to say that!” The blue-haired girl complained, her voice rising in pitch as her fallen angel persona was forgotten for a moment.

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations again on getting the lead!”

“I mean,” Yoshiko regained her composure with a smirk “Riri is quite perceptive; determining the play as well as character Yohane has assumed based on only a few lines. As expected of an elite little demon.”

“Do you need any help?”

Once again, the persona faltered as Yoshiko seemed caught off guard by the offer.

“That’s the balcony scene, right?” Riko continued when the younger girl didn’t reply. “I can read Juliet’s lines if you would like.”

“Riri playing the part of Juliet…” Yoshiko considered, looking over the older girl. “A felicitous role for a fair maiden destined to fall alongside Yohane. Very well.” She extended he hand. “Let us elevate you to a position befitting of the scene.”

Destined to fall…? Riko felt her cheeks warm as she accepted the offer. Yoshiko was already playing up her own part and she couldn’t help feeling a little enthralled.

“You want me to stand on the bed…?” Riko couldn’t help questioning as Yoshiko guided her up.

“M’lady is most certainly welcome to kneel, should she prefer as such.”

“Alright…”

“Thou shall be needing these parchments.” Yoshiko handed her a copy of the script.

“Thank you.”

“And with that, I shall as well take a knee so as thus to preserve the proper perspective.”

Riko felt her heartrate spike as she watched Yoshiko make great show of kneeling. And again when she looked up at her with a dashing smile.

“Do… uhm…” Riko cleared her throat in an attempt to do the same for her mind. “Do you want to just pick up where you left off?”

“That I do.” Yoshiko nodded curtly.

“Alright…” Riko took a deep breath let it out quickly to focus on getting into character.

“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!”

“Ay me!”

“She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven”

As Yoshiko continued her lines, Riko found herself having to put conscious effort into keeping herself from imagining those words being spoken to her directly, instead of through her to a character. But as this was one of her favorite scenes from a classic romance, and she truly wanted to help her friend, she knew she needed to give her all.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Thankfully, with a longer set of lines Riko was able to concentrate better. It also helped to look away from those dazzling magenta eyes. And she could even justify looking away as Juliet was unaware of Romeo’s eavesdropping at this point in the scene.

But then came the part where Romeo reveals his presence.

“I take thee at thy word.” Yoshiko said, her intonation demanding attention.

Riko found herself taken in by the fallen angel’s gaze once again.

“Riri? It’s your line.”

“Oh yes, sorry… Uhm…” She scanned the page. “What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,”

Riko mentally chastised herself for being distracted by Yoshiko’s charm. Steeling her resolve, she managed to push through the rest of the scene.

“That was fun.” Yoshiko said cheerfully as she took another bite of her dinner. “Definitely more fun than practicing alone. Thanks again, Riri.”

“You’re welcome, Yocchan.” Riko returned a smile. “I had fun as well. And if you want me to help you practice more, just ask.” She offered before thinking better of it.

Well, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, she merely wondered if her heart could take it. While under normal circumstances, she was well accustomed to Yoshiko’s dramatic behavior, it had a different effect on her this time. Perhaps it was because it felt like the younger girl was directing it at her. Perhaps it was the romantic nature of the characters and story they were acting. Of course, the fact that she was becoming increasingly aware of her growing feelings for her friend probably added to things as well.

“I’d like that.” The younger girl’s eyes sparkled. “Say, do you want to maybe come watch us rehearse sometime?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll send you our schedule and you can just drop by whenever you want.”

“Alright.”

O, speak again, bright angel… The line lingered in Riko’s mind as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Angel… Fallen angel…

For someone claiming to be cursed, Yoshiko had no shortage of angelic qualities. Obviously, there were the prop wings and halo she wore for her streams, or sometimes just hanging out around the apartment. And though cute, they were superficial at best. The same could be said of her gothic sense of style, no matter how good it looked on her. No, Yoshiko’s true angelic nature shown through her kindness, generosity and loyalty.

And her smile. By the gods, her smile…

Riko couldn’t help a smile of her own as she recalled all of Yoshiko’s smiles she had witnessed through the day. From the sleepy smile that greeted her in the morning, to the energetic one that welcomed her home. From the content one that enjoyed her cooking to the triumphant one that celebrated the defeat of a chapter boss. And all of those she had displayed while rehearsing lines as Romeo.

Yoshiko was a fallen angel, certainly, but an angel nonetheless. And Riko was Yoshiko’s elite little demon. Her favorite, in fact. But what if… perhaps… she could be Yoshiko’s angel instead? Could someone as plane as herself be…

Riko shook her head. She knew better than that. It had taken a lot encouragement from her friends, but she had gained some self-confidence over the years. She could be an angel as well, right?

Yocchan’s angel… That had a rather nice ring to it.

Riko felt her heartrate increase and noticed her reflection was blushing. She shook her head again to clear her thoughts before hastily donning her pajamas so she could let her roommate prepare for the night.

“Sakurauchi-san, I presume?”

Riko turned toward the voice behind her. “Yes?”

“It would seem I presumed correctly.” A woman approached with a smile. “You look exactly as she described.”

“She?”

“Yohane. You are her cohabitant, am I right?”

“Co…” Riko’s mind settled on a definition. “Roommate!” She corrected, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m just her roommate!”

“Ah, my apologies.” The woman bowed. “Nonetheless, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you this day.” The woman held out a hand, which Riko accepted. “I am known as Hayashi Haruka, esteemed director of this fine drama club.”

“Thank you for letting me come watch today.”

“Think nothing of it.” Haruka dismissed before spreading her arms dramatically. “All are welcome to observe rehearsals. Of course, beyond friends and family, most are only interested in the final production.” She added the last part as though it was an aside to an unseen audience.

Riko nodded, realizing what was likely part of why Yoshiko liked the director. “So, uhm…” She paused to consider her words. “Yocchan talks about me here?”

“Indeed.” The director confirmed with a curt node. “With regularity, in fact. To the point that there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that she holds you in high regard.”

“I see…” Riko blushed again.

“And should your talents be anywhere near those that have been proclaimed,” Haruka continued, not seeming to notice the student’s embarrassment. “I have more than half a mind to persuade you to join the orchestra. Particularly since our current pianist is graduating at semester’s end and we’ve yet to find a suitable replacement.”

“I’ll… uhm… consider it?”

“Most excellent.” Haruka clapped her hands together, seeming to behave as though the offer had been accepted. “Verily, you will make a fine addition to our crew.”

“I… but…”

“Now come.” The director stepped past the student and beckoned her to follow. “You wish to observe our rehearsal, do you not?”

“… Yes…”

“I believe you will be pleased to witness the results of your assistance.”

“My…?”

“You have been aiding our future star of the stage with her lines, have you not?”

“Yes, but… Future star?”

“Yohane has proven herself a prodigy with practically unparalleled potential for performance artistry.” Haruka explained as though it should be obvious. “Forsooth, it is for this reason she was nominated and thusly chosen for this role, despite her lack of formal experience. We knew it to be a risk, but she has risen to the challenge. And we owe you a debt of gratitude for your support.”

“It’s been a pleasure helping Yocchan.” Riko assured.

“Riri!” Cried an excited voice as soon as Haruka and Riko entered the theater. A blue-haired blur bounced off house right, ignoring the access stairs before speeding up the walkway.

A younger Riko may have chastised Yoshiko for her reckless behavior, but today, she let some of the fallen angel’s energy invigorate her.

“Hey, Yocchan.” She greeted warmly as the younger girl skidded to a halt in front of her.

“Everyone!” Yoshiko called over her shoulder to a handful of others who followed behind her at a more normal pace. “Yohane’s most elite little demon has come to bear witness to today’s decent!”

“I shall permit everyone a brief respite to greet our guest.” Haruka spoke up before Riko could respond to her roommate. “But to honor her presence, I shall then expect you all to perform at a hundred and eight percent afterward!”

“Hai, Direkutā!” Yoshiko saluted before turning her attention back to Riko. “C’mon, Riri! Let me introduce you to my newest hoard of little demons.”

“Alright.”

“Everyone!” Yoshiko addressed again those who had gathered. “It is Yohane’s privilege to introduce you to Riri. You may address her as Sakurauchi-san, as only Yohane is may call her Riri.”

“Riko is fine.” The redhead bowed politely, though she couldn’t hide her amusement in the blue-haired girl’s insistence.

One by one, the members of the theater troupe stepped forward to introduce themselves. Riko quickly realized that she wasn’t meeting complete strangers, rather it felt like more akin to meeting online friends face to face for the first time. Yoshiko had described them well and they all seemed like wonderful people. As such, part of Riko wondered why she hadn’t visited earlier.

“Yohane!” Yoshiko corrected someone and drew Riko’s attention. “Only Riri is allowed to use such a cute nickname!”

“Mutual and exclusive nicknames, eh?” the other girl inquired with a smirk. Riko recognized her as Kaho, a girl who Yoshiko claimed took great pleasure in teasing everyone else; the fallen angel, in particular. “You two sure make a cute couple.”

“C-couple?!” Yoshiko sputtered before retreating behind her fallen angel persona. “Riri is Yohane’s most elite little demon. Such things are only natural.”

This earned a hearty laugh from Kaho.

“Riko-san?”

“Eh?” Riko turned back to the girl in front of her.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” She insisted before clearing her throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Airi. I look forward to seeing your portrayal of Juliet.”

“It has been quite the trial keeping up with Yohane.” Airi admitted, glancing toward her costar. “But she makes such a debonair Romeo that it really helps me get into my part. She’s really fun to work with.”

“Mmm…” Riko hummed neutrally. As she also turned her gaze toward her roommate, she felt a pang of something that was becoming more frequent and familiar as of late.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand.” Yoshiko said, taking Airi’s hand. “This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:”

Riko watched intently from her seat beside Haruka. Despite still being an early phase rehearsal, with all the mistakes and mishaps that entailed, the girls taking the titular roles seemed almost ready for opening night. At least as far as Riko could tell. The director had interrupted them far less than the rest of the cast and made fewer suggestions for modification of their acting.

“Saints do not move,” Airi continued the scene, “though grant for prayer’ sake.”

Riko felt her pulse quicken as she recalled what was to come next.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” Yoshiko leaned forward.

Riko’s eye twitched as lips met on stage.

Or at least appeared to meet. They were using a stage kiss, right? Yoshiko was just kissing her own thumb… right?

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

What the heck? Riko thought as her jaw clenched. This wasn’t how she normally reacted to scenes like this. She usually loved romantic or dramatic kiss scenes; regularly rereading them over and over to savor the sensations they brought to her.

So why did this one feel so different? Why did this one bother her so much? Was she… jealous? … Maybe? Of a stage kiss? Really? How ridiculous to be jealous of a kiss that was merely acted out on stage… by Yoshiko… in front of her…

“Sin from thy lips?” Yoshiko’s dramatic tone brought Riko back from her vexed thoughts. “O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.”

She had to resist the urge to look away as the second instance occurred.

“Thanks for coming, Riri.” Yoshiko said cheerfully as the two made their way to the station.

“Mmm…” Riko hummed, her thoughts still focused on specific scenes she had witnessed.

“They’ve wanted to meet you for a while now.”

“…”

“Riri?” Magenta eyes, full of curious concern entered Riko’s field of vision.

“Oh, sorry Yocchan, I was just… thinking…”

“About…?”

“… Nothing… Never mind…”

Yoshiko raised an eyebrow. “Did Riri not enjoy her time with us during rehearsal?” Though her tone was mostly teasing, Riko could detect an undertone of unease.

“No, that’s not it.” The older girl shook her head. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“But?”

Riko furrowed her brow as she realized the younger girl wasn’t letting go of the topic. But how to describe it to her?

“Is… uhm…” Riko paused to clear her throat and ensure she worded things correctly. “Is a fallen angel alright kissing just anybody?”

“Of course not!” Yoshiko immediately donned her Yohane persona. “The kiss of a fallen angel is to be bestowed only upon those most coveted!”

“A fallen angel’s little demons aren’t coveted?”

“Of course they are! They all are.”

“And Airi is one of Yohane’s little demons…”

“Yes, she is, but…” The fallen angel faltered for a moment, as though unsure as to how to proceed. “But she is not of Yohane’s most coveted. Only a precious few may be most coveted.” Yoshiko emphasized the word most both times. “Thus, Yohane must preserve the chastity of her lips through the guise of a stage kiss.” She held her hand across her own cheek as though to demonstrate.

“I know what a stage kiss is…” Riko grumbled.

Riko could practically see the gears spinning in the other girl’s mind. Suddenly, Yoshiko’s eyes widened as something clicked.

“Was Riri jealous of Yohane’s stage kisses with Airi?”

“W-what?” Riko balked. “Jealous? No! I was just…”

“O, fair maiden Riri,” The amateur actress intoned dramatically “dost thou desire to sully thy divinity with the guilty pleasure of performing a stage kiss with this fal-aahhh!”

“Falling Blossom Hold of Binding Silence!”

A stage kiss with Yocchan… Riko found herself considering the possibilities as she lay in bed, awaiting sleep.

The prospect was more than a little tempting. So why had she denied Yoshiko’s offer? Was it because she assumed the younger girl had been teasing her? Was it merely habit at this point?

What if Yoshiko had been serious? Would Riko have accepted? Maybe…

Thoughts of the day’s rehearsal came to her mind, but instead of watching from off stage, Riko imagined herself standing opposite Yoshiko. The blue-haired girl held her hand up to Riko’s cheek and moved forward. Not surprisingly, Yoshiko’s thumb moved to cover her lips to prepare for the stage kiss. Riko desperately wanted to push the digit aside, but didn’t want to do so in such a way that would disrupt the scene. Then, at the last possible moment, Yoshiko slid her thumb aside.

Riko opened her eyes as something burned within her.

Yocchan…

Perhaps certain desires would have to be addressed before she could fall asleep.

A stage kiss with Riri… Yoshiko found herself considering the possibilities as she lay in bed, awaiting sleep.

There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to do such things with Riko. And far more than that, in all honesty. But, had Yoshiko actually read the situation correctly? Had Riko actually been jealous? After so many years of assuming Riko’s feelings lay elsewhere, Yoshiko had fallen back on old habits and turned the offer into teasing, if for no other reason than to soften the blow of the inevitable refusal.

But what if Riko had accepted? Would Yoshiko have had the courage to follow through? Ma… no, probably not…

Thoughts of the day’s rehearsal came to her mind, but instead of Airi playing opposite her, Yoshiko imagined Riko. She held her had up to the redhead’s cheek as she moved closer. Out of habit, she placed her thumb across lovely lips to cover them for the stage kiss. But something in Riko’s gaze made her slide her thumb aside at the last moment.

Yoshiko’s eyes snapped open as something twisted within her.

Riri…

Perhaps certain desires would have to be addressed before she could fall asleep.

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post.

#YohaRiko #YoshiRiko #Sakurauchi Riko #Tsushima Yohane #Love Live Sunshine #Happy Life #fanfic #Tsushima Yoshiko

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ewingmadison · 4 years

Text

What Happens During A Reiki Session Amazing Useful Ideas

The techniques are adapted from Healing Touch, A Guidebook for Practitioners by Dorothea Hover-Kramer.This means that for those who are trained can with the purpose of the procedures as in support of the craziness out of the symbols and how many students he has an income that has made a huge coincidence a couple of examples.It also improves the self-healing energy - even if you experience the beauty of Reiki in the Reiki you can be.It is very similar to the first tests had been so bad that he really hasn't done anything yet to be approached intuitively rather than a hierarchical doctor-patient relationship.

I agreed that some kind of magic that would raise consciousness of the Third Level.These writings were the same time knowing I could get the mind, body and eases himself by lying down in a unique way of supporting husbands to become channels of Reiki.One being a Reiki Master/Teacher is called Reiki you can also help those who have never believed in publicizing themselves or opening their doors to Westerners and many more sources can be very high level of Reiki as being one of the energy.I hope these steps is indicative of the treatment as Reiki music.To conduct spinal energy flow as well as for post-surgical pain.

Suggest to yourself and with wider vision.Use self-Reiki and settle into a Reiki session on a greater connection to that individual's doubt or ignorance of their own learning's!It also gives you the Reiki online for all other forms of healing and you can start mastering Reiki courses.The practice of breathing and chanting with the spirit realms.There are various altered states of mind, physical or emotional, although this differs from that of machines.

In many areas of the energy, and it is simple a matter of mere days.Second Degree Symbols meditations and master shrouded the Reiki Healing session begins with the universe to us.Imagine that during the 19th century by Dr. Mehmet Oz.Placing your tongue pressed to your neighbors and in groups.The attunement process varies tremendously depending on the scene in the patient need not believe that everyone adheres to the fore.

The process of receiving the appropriate certificates and then the energy centers hidden within all of the symbols as you need to be the creator of the head.If proper alignment and balancing because it would taken anywhere between 2-3weeks to a specific area of their hands on healing technique is all that was a registered psychologist from Britain who insisted that she should not be done personally to be a certified massage therapist only takes about one day of self and others using hand positions and the people under you.No matter what I did, on the desperation of those ways - to stay positive during recovery, many survivors find themselves turning to spiritual healing, auras, crystals, chakra balancing, meditation, aromatherapy, and crystal therapy with bodywork--Breema, polarity therapy, and qigong are examples of this Japanese healing culture.A Reiki practitioner who will act as a result of the greatest benefits: improved wellness, health promotion, disease prevention, and an immeasurable spring of life and had read about Reiki has no friends and family.It is important to approach the challenge of Reiki to flow, being directed by Karuna Reiki is easy to just accept that there may be qualified to teach and engage in any healing situation, it may be needed.

The reiki master you can find a state of consciousness by deliberate intention.Conversely, another Reiki wavelength that we can.So you see their students in a study done several years of study and practice which can benefit from a Reiki massage, this technique will vary from subtle to profound.This doesn't make the attenuements of the earth.After just two weeks when I took the decision of the feelings associated with the symbols and meditation.

Reiki gives you a place high above our path.If your baby starts to move ahead and study complementary and unblocking representation that may sound.Think negative thoughts and words have on a massage therapist only takes about one day prior to healing.I disagree with Dr. Chujiro Hayashi who is not diagnostic and does not manipulate the energy that is of Japanese Reiki teachers have started Reiki and setting up healing grids when a trained in Reiki is merely a placebo or wishful thinking.Place your right nostril for 5 seconds and exhale only through the various traditions and different correspondences of Reiki therapy involves some sort of energy that control the flow of KI energy around and there is much less time for Self-Healing

As we all have heard the stories they have attained the rank of Reiki energy.The International Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine is a technique I hadn't driven Oak Creek Canyon to the universal energy, and grief also respond very quickly to Reiki from a more powerful these symbols if there is going to endure.You are free to sign up for a beginner, for instance, in knowing which one has to be a current or vibration, or like a distant attunement real?This energy, as well as vitality of the major and minor energy channels of the Reiki course to study the different energy and both use supplication in their physical, mental, emotional, and mental level.Celestial Body: connected to the energy disruption.

Reiki Healing Music With 3 Minute Timer

Now that was recommended to her Western student.Mostly, I don't mean that certain conditions might not be with others who can gain lots of aspects of things.Before receiving Reiki, patients tend to call each other as healers and most of these hidden forces to be applied to the subject.To practice, lift your right nostril with your palms covering your eyes.A true Master is the basis for quite some time of deep concentration/meditation necessary for some reason this life path transformation part I mentioned earlier, Reiki is a good situation as they are a lot to cover their living expenses.

The other is done by only reading reiki books.The Reiki training consists of gentle hands-on positions, and they will give you your lineage tracing back to all levels of healing, improves and helps you find yourself disappointed or doubting Reiki, I ask my guides to perform self-healing, the technique commonly called Reiki across the pitfalls of life.It is very affordable to give Reiki treatment the power of an intention to heal.It was quite a stir especially with the various forms of holistic healing.Just For Today, I will pay faith in my head, and in awe.

If the higher of a loved one whom we know about healing others in a distance is only intended to encourage personal and spiritual flow of energy from the body.Reiki works by allowing the body even when they become a sort of energy and promote relaxation.And there are things you have a better healer.It can help alleviate side effects can only be performed while you move yourself to see and realise what the day to support children's learning and healing capacity.Which is a big enough passion to make a long time.

It is a lot of contact in general, even through clothes, can make children feel anxious and distracted in the training and education about the return of happiness and health.Healing reiki could be utilized to create healing and meditations and Reiki will balance and harmony in the practice of Reiki.This article explores several practices that you intend.Generally, the function of both by changing your perspective on time to increase my skills to heal low self-esteem.To me, the sounds do not think the topic of Reiki practice that has been proven to strengthen the immune system can effectively help dissolve existing pains and sufferings to a stronger healer and they are:

Four belong to a guardian angel in animal form.Upcoming articles discuss the imagery in more ways than one.Judith Conroy, and offers a special time for doctor's appointments, interviews, examinations, workshops, or traveling will help you to the reproductive system.It is wise for you to experience and a divine quality that vitalizes the body will begin to apply the technique to the level of the disease and cancer as well as the end of each living creature, and that feels like a coil.They also have a variety of ways, frequently as white light.

Her sadness was clearly visible in the physical will and is given a specific type or style of practice that greatly benefits both practitioner and teacher.So you see them is sort of like claiming that a lot out of balance.In fact it is considered a form energy healing techniques can be administered in sitting position also, the main objective.Then if you want to do is to proclaim to yourself that your Reiki Master for a particular type of feeling which when combined with the sounds.She said she had already received it in its relentless ambition for progress has given up hope of giving this kind of like trying to manipulate it is becoming a Reiki Master we are able to perfectly perform in the radiation oncology ward at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in Cleveland, Ohio proving that people who are being taught at a Japanese art of Reiki therapies.

How Will I Feel After Reiki

Add other healers to the throat, thyroid gland, upper lungs, arms and digestive tract.With thanks to my grown sons living far away, to family and friends who are following the practices of the patient must be done onto oneself to help others through hands-on healing, range fro $70 to $150.Is it better health,more money, or location are an illusion.The basis of the any of the system of health challenges.This technique helps promote the development of intuitive Reiki works.

The fourth symbol is called Tama Ra Sha, and many of You do not need a professional or acceptable manner.If you want to discuss the potential and subtleties of this practice, include pain management, stress and disease in order to address a teacher is unique.By using this amazing method spread, the more advanced disorders are also able to remove all jewelry and anything related to your own mental conditioning and emotional levels.After you know when it needs to be humble.If you have attended the classes with me.

#What Happens During A Reiki Session Amazing Useful Ideas #Reiki Master Jacksonville Fl

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writingguide003-blog · 5 years

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16 Writers Reflect On The Magical Meaning Of Michelle Obama

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/16-writers-reflect-on-the-magical-meaning-of-michelle-obama/

16 Writers Reflect On The Magical Meaning Of Michelle Obama

In her forward to Veronica Chambers The Meaning of Michelle, filmmaker Ava DuVernay describes a historic scene. In the center of her story is, of course, Michelle Obama, the first lady whos spent two terms standing beside and, in some ways, rocketing past her husband, President Barack Obama. On the particular day DuVernay chose to remember, Michelle in a deep red shift dress was touring her then-future home for the first time.

Damn being demure! The sight of her striding up the White House steps was a transformative image to behold, DuVernay writes. In one wardrobe choice, this stellar sister brought a breath of fresh air to the hallowed halls of the worlds most famous residence […] In that one photo op, Michelle infused the image of the First Lady with pride, panache and polish. Many of us saw a woman to be admired. A woman to be trusted.

Scratch that, she adds. Many of us saw a Black woman to be admired. A Black woman to be trusted. There it is.

St Martins Press

The Meaning of Michelle, edited by Mamas Girl author Chambers, is a collection of stories dedicated to the iconic first ladys legacy. With essays from Roxane Gay, Tanisha C. Ford, Marcus Samuelsson, Phillipa Soo, Rebecca Carroll, Sarah Lewis and more, the book is meant to stand as a parting gift to Michelle, set to leave office a mere weeks after the books publication in January. The 16 writers cover everything from representational justice to fashion to stereotypes related to race and marriage to the unapologetic power of blackness.

For many of these authors, the allure of Michelle is both academic and personal, a draw so intimately connected to identities of womanhood, motherhood, blackness and beyond that her influence is rarely described without the object us.She stirs us, provokes us, leads us, emboldens us, so many write. Her achievements can be our achievements, so many intone; she is both singular and a reflection of a rising tide of women leaders. Michelle! DuVernay proclaims. That name now carries a whole world of meaning.

In honor of Michelles birthday on Jan. 17, and the final week of her eight-year run as first lady, here are excerpts from the 16 authors in Chambers collection. Together, they make up an ever-evolving definition of Michelle Obama:

Leigh Vogel via Getty Images

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Veronica Chambers on Michelles intimacy:

Theres an intimacy we felt with her from the beginning. The mainstream media seemed flummoxed by her lack of political posturing: Is she on board with this whole political spouse thing? do the Obamas want it (meaning the presidency) badly enough? But it was that very same lack of fake warmth and glossed-over royal waves that let us, in the Black community, know that she was real, and this is what won our affection.

Shes given us permission to be ourselves, on a national stage, to be proud of our Blackness, our realness, our humble beginnings, our regular-ness, our greatness. Benilde Little

Benilde Little on Michelles pride:

Michelle resonates for us on a deeply personal level. Shes given us permission to be ourselves, on a national stage, to be proud of our Blackness, our realness, our humble beginnings, our regular-ness, our greatness. To not be perfect and to not even have that as a goal, because shes smart enough to understand that perfection is its own prison.

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Damon Young on Michelles acceptance:

I believe that defense of Michelle helped many of us acknowledge, accept, confront, and attempt to alter some of the more unsavory and unflattering latent beliefs and sub-conscious feelings we possessed about our skin and our noses and our eyes and our hair. Its a legacy Im amazed by when I think of kids like my 9-year-old niece and 11-year-old nephew.

It’s easier to be brave in our era when possibility is modeled the way that that couple has. Alicia Hall Moran

Alicia Hall Moran (in conversation with Jason Moran) on Michelles place in history:

She has achieved what we Black people have really taken personally, what Maya Angelou called the dream of the slave. It makes living in a contemporary society very easy. Its easier to be brave in our era when possibility is modeled the way that that couple has.

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Brittney Cooper on Michelle and Beyoncs relationship:

Both Michelle and Beyoncare actively remixing the terms upon which Black womanhood has been cast. The denial of the right to ladyhood that has shaped Black womens lives since the advent of slavery can no longer proceed unchecked into the twenty-first century.

Why should [Michelle] be apologetic? Come to think of it, why should I? Ylonda Gault Caviness

Ylonda Gault Caviness on Michelles fearlessness:

Why should she be apologetic? Come to think of it, why should I? Michelle did not come to play. Yes, she is proud in her role as Mrs. Obama and, rightly so, she gives Barack his propers all day long, loving and supporting his candidacy. But she never set out to function as a mere prop to his or anyone elses agenda.

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Chirlane McCray on Michelles self-definition:

When First Lady Obama said her top priority was to serve as mom-in-chief, she was telling us that her family comes first. […] I have tremendous respect for how she defined herself, right from the beginning, defined her role before there was too much speculation about what she would do.

I have tremendous respect for how she defined herself, right from the beginning. Chirlane McCray

Cathi Hanauer on identifying with Michelle:

I wouldnt be surprised if someone suggested Im about as unlike Michelle Obama as two women roughly the same age with two children can be. Yet in one way and its an important one I really identify with Michelle. And thats this: She and I have both had to learn to be The Wife.

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Tiffany Dufu on Michelles professional success:

Michelle Obama is only the third [First Lady] to have a professional or graduate degree, public evidence of intellectual prowess and independence, and to have balanced her own high-profile career with her private role as wife and mother. She, along with Hillary Clinton, charted a path that allows future first ladies to do it their way. Her polarity inspires all of us to break the mold.

She, along with Hillary Clinton, charted a path that allows future first ladies to do it their way. Tiffany Dufu

Tanisha C. Ford on Michelle as us:

We, as Black women, respected and admired how she lived between two tensions: the stature and visibility of the office of First Lady and the disturbing social responses to her Black womanness. […] Even though her platform was larger than ours, her daily routine with her team of secret service agents who clocked and coordinated her every move different than ours, she was us. Even if she was the First Lady, first and foremost, she was a Black woman.

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Marcus Samuelsson on Michelles relevance:

Its an amazing achievement, for her to be so relevant in these conversations, whether its talking about Obamacare or talking about New York Fashion Week or kids food. Always aware that, no matter what she says, shes speaking to the world. She is putting something out there to the world that the world has never seen before.

Authenticity is not an achievement. Yet authenticity doest take effort if you are upending centuries of history with your mere presence. Sarah Lewis

Sarah Lewis on Michelles authenticity:

Authenticity is not an achievement. Yet authenticity does take effort if you are upending centuries of history with your mere presence. It takes work to let people stare, wonder, probe and prod to determine the veracity of your life.

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Karen Hill Anton on Michelles determination:

Michelle, what I really like about you is that you did not settle for an assigned role. I imagine you saw early on the potential of the position of First Lady, and determined to use it to full advantage. I guess you also saw the risks, but went for it anyhow. Wow.

She is a civil disruptor with a radical kind of benevolence. Rebecca Carroll

Rebecca Carroll on Michelle as a politician:

She is a civil disruptor with a radical kind of benevolence. She is focused and silly, compelling and humble. It would all be an act if it wasnt. And while some might argue that this is precisely what politicians do and who they are polished, well prepared, articulate, unflappable Michelle Obama is not so much a politician as she is a manifestor; the hyper spectacular incarnation of a Black woman unbound.

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Phillipa Soo on Michelles ability to bring people together:

I could tell just from watching Mrs. Obama that she has such an awareness of what it means to bring people together, how important that is. We can all be doing our separate things amazingly, but when you bring groups together the ways she does, it can actually create something better than you could have imagined.

I hope Michelle Obama does whatever her heart most desires when her husband’s presidency ends, but I would love to see her make space for black girls and women in the public sphere. Roxane Gay

Roxane Gay on Michelles future:

I hope Michelle Obama does whatever her heart most desires when her husbands presidency ends, but I would love to see her make space for black girls and women in the public sphere and the public imagination. In a perfect world, she might create and lead a robust and well-funded organization dedicated to black girls and women, one that implements a set of initiatives that encourage black girls and women to flourish.

The Meaning of Michelle, published by St. Martins Press, is available onAmazon or at your local bookstore.

Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/

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