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artificialqueens · 5 years

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as the stars align 4/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 4.2k - also on ao3

Vanessa was having a crisis. She was in a situation so dire, there was nothing to do but call on her two right-hand women for advice. Thankfully, A’keria and Silky were receptive to her SOS signal and arrived at her apartment within ten minutes, alcohol in clutch per Vanessa’s request.

“What’s the tea, Christine?” Silky asked as Vanessa led them to the kitchen. She then made fearful eye contact with A’keria as their friend began downing a series of shots.

Suddenly, Vanessa began to cry.

“Oh no, shhh, it’s okay,” Silky spoke softly as she stood up behind Vanessa’s stool to comfort her.

“I — is it Riley? Is he okay?” A’keria guessed. Seemingly hearing his name, Vanessa’s dog bounced into the kitchen and began licking at the woman who’d just asked after him. Even Vanessa had to let out a chuckle at that.

“No, God no, he’s fine,” Vanessa replied, scooping up Riley up for a cuddle, before letting him go once she realised she’d gotten his fur wet.

“Is it Matt? Did y’all break up?” A’keria tried again, reaching across the bar to take Vanessa’s hand in her own.

“It’s not about him — well, it kind of is,” Vanessa managed to choke out between sobs. Silky and A’keria simply waited for her to continue.

“I’m sorry guys, I’m a big girl, I’ll stop.” Vanessa wiped away her tears, streaking the makeup that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to remove after that afternoon’s shoot.

She then let out a deep breath.

“It’s… Brooke.”

“Is she giving you shit again? Because I won’t hesitate to cut that skinny bitch, you just say the word Vanj,” Silky said protectively.

“It’s not that, I just… I think I might like her,” Vanessa revealed timidly, preparing for a storm. A’keria’s brows shot up and Silky’s jaw dropped slightly, but they certainly weren’t as gobsmacked as Vanessa had been expecting them to be when she told them.

“You mean…” A’keria trailed off.

“Yeah. Go on, tell me what a masochist I am.”

“I’m not judging, girl, I get it. It’s not all that surprising really,” A’keria shrugged.

“What? I just told you that I like the woman who up until today, I hated,” Vanessa hit back, confused, trying to emphasise the ‘hate’ part as much as she could.

“Yeah, exactly, you’ve been obsessed, V, you know it’s true. She’s practically all you’ve talked about for weeks.”

Vanessa swallowed guiltily, unable to argue with that.

“Kiki’s right. But why the change of heart?” Silky wondered.

It took Vanessa a strength she didn’t know she had to stop herself from crying again.

“I don’t know, I just — today she was acting like she wanted nothing to do with me, and it fucking hurt more than any of the mean shit she’s thrown my way. And when I called her out on it, she actually apologised and she was so frickin’ soft and I realised that that’s the Brooke I wanna know all the time. And then later in her dressing room, we almost kissed— ”

“Hold up hoe, you kissed?!” Silky yelled.

“No! But I went to her dressing room to practice, and we were so close, I swear my pulse has never been that quick. If it weren’t for fuckin’ Scyvie— ”

“Who the fuck is Scyvie?” A’keria interrupted.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is I really like her and I dunno what the hell I’m gonna do. I have to kiss her tomorrow!”

A’keria sighed before looking to Silky, who gave her a small nod, leaving Vanessa bewildered.

“I think you should break up with Matt, Vanessa,” A’keria said gently, giving Vanessa’s hand a squeeze. “If you really have feelings for Brooke, it’s not fair for you to lead him on. Think about it. You almost cheated on him today.”

“I wouldn’t do that. It was just to practice,” Vanessa defended herself as fresh tears began to fall.

“Was it really?” Silky questioned, her voice without accusation despite the context.

“I’m not breaking up with Matt. Brooke doesn’t want me, okay? She hates me and she’s probably straight and I don’t wanna be her stupid girlfriend anyway, it’s just a dumb crush. I’ll get over it. And I love Matt.” Vanessa stood up, her stool screeching the tiles, and returning the empty glasses to the sink, indicating that the conversation was over.

“Whatever you do, we’re here for you, V,” spoke A’keria. Vanessa just gave a small smile in response. She didn’t know what she’d do without her Dreamgirls.

—

Vanessa didn’t get the chance to speak with Brooke in hair and makeup the next morning, a fact that she wasn’t sure whether she was grateful for or saddened by. There were a lot of characters involved in Friday’s shoot, and so Scarlet, Plastique and some of the other actors were brought into the leads’ beauty trailer to utilise the space. For once, the place was buzzing with noise, and although it was unlike her, Vanessa let herself tune out of the conversation, knowing that she needed to mentally prepare herself for the day ahead.

When they arrived on set, Vanessa swallowed her pride and approached Brooke Lynn, wanting to clear the air before their big scene.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. If I made you uncomfortable,” Vanessa said stiffly.

“Oh, no. It’s fine, you didn’t,” Brooke assured her.

“I just wanna make the movie perfect.” It wasn’t a complete lie; Vanessa did care about the scene turning out well. Brooke nodded understandingly.

Vanessa chuckled shyly, filling the air, desperately trying to think of ways to keep their conversation going until they had to film. She couldn’t handle anymore tense silences between them.

“It’s just like, when straight actresses kiss and sometimes it looks really forced, y’know? And this movie is gonna be all big for LGBT rep and stuff— ”

“I get it,” Brooke barked. Vanessa smiled painfully, feeling as awkward as the same-sex kisses she had watched on screen growing up, and wishing she could figure out a way to quit pissing her co-star off again.

“Ladies, we start shooting scene twenty-seven in ten, so get in any last minute rehearsals now,” Michelle called from her directors’ chair.

Brooke walked off, saying she was going to use the toilet, but Vanessa was pretty sure that was an excuse, that in reality, she just couldn’t stand to look at Vanessa a moment longer. Hearing the own thoughts she was having now that she had started to like Brooke only made her want to go back to hating the other woman — she was becoming paranoid and over-analytical about something as ridiculous as Brooke using the damn toilet. She just wanted to push her feelings down, but it was pretty hard when Brooke was with her everyday, right there in front of her.

And she looked like that.

Vanessa wasn’t left alone for long as it was then that Scarlet and Plastique appeared, buzzing with excitement, also preparing themselves for their roles in the upcoming scene.

“Ready for your big moment, sis?” Plastique asked. Vanessa groaned.

“Ugh, no, y’all are hyping it up way too much and it’s probably gonna suck.”

“That’s impossible, you’re both way too talented for that. Don’t stress, it’ll be fine,” Scarlet said, giving her a pat.

The scene was a pivotal one; not only was it the first kiss between Brooke and Vanessa’s characters, it was also the scene where Emilia, Vanessa’s role, confesses her feelings to Brooke’s character, Jade, before she goes off on a space mission. Vanessa really hoped she could put her own feelings for Brooke to the side and get it right.

“Okay, places, please,” Michelle requested, and people on set began shuffling into position. Everyone was there, and would be watching; Michelle, Asia, the rest of the cast and crew, even the hair and makeup artists in case any touch ups became necessary. It was pretty intimidating, Vanessa had to admit — she had never shared an onscreen kiss beyond brief pecks as a supporting role in various medical dramas. When she spotted Katya, the blonde woman gave her a quick thumbs up; Vanessa had grown to like her and her quirkiness.

Brooke took her spot opposite Vanessa, and the first part of the scene, which involved a meeting between all of the astronauts, went off without a hitch.

“Okay, cut. That was great, you guys,” Michelle praised them, clearly happy to have completed it in just a couple of takes. “Brooke and Vanessa, you ready?”

They both nodded succinctly. Vanessa began to feel her hands clam up.

“Okay, action.”

“Jade, hold up,” Vanessa started as Brooke’s character walked out the meeting room.

“Em? What’s wrong?” Brooke asked, stopping in her tracks.

“Can we talk? Sit with me. Please.” Vanessa said, gripping Brooke’s hand lightly and pulling them both towards chairs.

“I just… I’m so happy for you. Tomorrow, you’ll be worlds away. Literally,” Vanessa continued. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Brooke replied, her eyes sparkling. “It’s all I’ve dreamed of, ever since I was a little girl asking too many questions in physics class.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t wait to see the stars. To really see them.”

The two of them sat as a comfortable silence formed between their two characters.

“Was there anything else?” Brooke’s character asked sadly, like she wanted to say so much more.

“I just… I feel like it’s been so long. I miss my friend.” Vanessa answered.

“I miss you too. I’ll keeping missing you,” Brooke replied.

“Then don’t go.”

Brooke paused.

“What?”

“Stay here. Stay with me. Brooke, I—”

“Cut!” Michelle shouted. “Vanessa, as much as I’m sure Brooke would gladly accept the invitation to stay with you, right now you’re talking to Jade,” she reminded her, earning a few chuckles from a number of people on set. Vanessa knew Michelle was just trying to inject some humour into the day, but felt her cheeks heat up nonetheless.

“It just slipped out, Blondie,” she told Brooke quietly, trying to downplay her embarrassment. It was a common mistake — there was no reason why anyone would look into it. Brooke did nothing except fix her with an unimpressed stare, and Vanessa just wanted the Brooke from yesterday to come back.

“Action!”

“Stay here. Stay with me. Jade, I… I have something to tell you.”

“You do?” Brooke asked with a quick intake of breath. Her eyes were curious, even hopeful, and it amazed Vanessa that she was able to convey that level of nuance with only her eyes.

“I — I love you. I wish I could say it more poetically or using some space metaphor or some shit, but it really is just that simple. I want to be with you.”

Vanessa’s eyes began to water. Brooke’s own were conflicted.

“Emilia, I — I’m sorry. But I have to do this. You know I do.” Vanessa allowed the tears to leave her eyes as her character got up to leave.

“Emilia — wait — ” Brooke pleaded, catching up with Vanessa by the door and grabbing her arm, making them face one another. Vanessa prayed that Brooke couldn’t hear her heart pounding against her chest.

Brooke’s hand came up to cup her cheek and Vanessa was gone. She was glad that this was exactly what her character wanted, as she didn’t think she could possibly reject Brooke when she was looking at her like that, even if the script called for it.

Brooke tilted her head and finally pressed her mouth to Vanessa’s. They kissed softly, Brooke’s lips moving like silk on top of hers, even more tender than Vanessa could’ve imagined. Vanessa knew it shouldn’t have been romantic, that on-screen kisses were widely regarded as anything but — but all she could think of was how right this felt, how they should’ve been doing it all along instead whatever the hell they had been wasting their time with for the past month.

Vanessa knew that it was only supposed to be a short and sweet goodbye kiss, but Michelle wasn’t yelling cut — not that Vanessa would’ve been able to hear over the fireworks crackling in her ears. But Brooke hadn’t stopped, and she took that as a good sign.

And when Vanessa felt herself be slowly backed against the door, Brooke’s tongue slipping into her mouth, to the sound of soft moans that could’ve been from either one of them, she knew that it definitely wasn’t part of the script, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Cut!” came the familiar voice of Michelle’s command, and the two actresses sprung apart.

“Tone it down, you guys. What part of ‘keep it PG’ don’t you understand? It’s right there in the stage directions,” Michelle waved the script from a distance. “Let’s take five.”

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Brooke asked her abruptly in an especially bitchy tone.

“What?” Vanessa asked back, genuinely confused.

“Don’t act like this isn’t your fault, not after the way you were all over me yesterday. You tryna make me look unprofessional or something?” Brooke hit back.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Vanessa spat furiously. “Your horny ass had me pinned against the fucking wall, don’t even try to deny it, bitch, everyone saw, we got it here on fuckin’ CCTV. And you wanna blame me? How fuckin’ repressed are you?” Vanessa didn’t think she had ever been this mad, which was saying a lot since almost every encounter she’d had with Brooke seemed to set a new record — each time she thought she wasn’t capable of being so angry, Brooke went and proved her wrong.

Brooke went quiet at Vanessa’s outburst, but Vanessa couldn’t find it in her to show an ounce of sympathy.

“Do we need to reshoot?” Vanessa checked as she walked up to a group of crew members.

“No, we can work with what we’ve got,” Asia replied.

“Good,” Vanessa said, feeling a twinge of disappointment, but mostly relief. “Can we call it a day? I don’t feel well.”

Asia nodded, smiling empathetically, before informing Michelle, who seemed less overjoyed at the news but willing to go with it.

“Change of plans! That’s a wrap for the day, everyone. Thanks for your hard work — see you all tomorrow,” Michelle announced and the room let out a collective applause at the early finish.

Brooke gave Vanessa a confused glance; there was a redness behind her eyes, but Vanessa refused to let herself care about that right now. She stormed off set, sad and pissed as hell and determined to stop seeing the good in Brooke once and for all.

—

“Brooke, you have got to — and I can’t stress this enough — get your shit together.”

Nina barged in through her front door — an action that initially alarmed Brooke, who’d forgotten how she’d given Nina a spare key — and she was already chastising her before she could even reach the living room.

“Nice to see you too, Nina, thank you so much for knocking,” Brooke’s words dripped with sarcasm.

“Brooke — I’m serious.”

“What did I do now?” Brooke pondered out loud, far more interested in the large tub of chocolate ice cream she was indulging herself in. She was relaxing on the couch, buried in blankets, with Henry and Apollo laying dutifully at her feet.

“I’ve just been on the phone with Ra’jah O’Hara,” Nina said, Brooke receiving the news with a blank expression.

“Who?”

“Vanessa Mateo’s manager. She claims that her client is threatening to quit the movie because of your behaviour.”

“What?!” Brooke almost gagged on her dessert. “She wouldn’t. She didn’t.”

“Okay, fine, she didn’t,” Nina conceded. “But she did tell Ra’jah to tell me to tell you that, just to see your reaction. Which was a let down, may I say. It seems like you know Vanessa better than she thinks.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly commit to the lie,” Brooke added. “Is that all?”

Nina took a deep, weary sigh and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle that stood open on the coffee table. Brooke thought about how the culpability would be her own if Nina began ageing rapidly in the next few weeks.

“I did hear about what happened today when you guys had to kiss. Brooke, you had her up against the wall? And then lashed out at her for losing control?”

“God, I was such an asshole,” Brooke professed, hating herself even more after hearing it back.

“Just tell me why,” Nina asked.

“Because it was a fucking good kiss.”

Nina wasn’t appeased by this answer.

“I did assume that much. But taking it out on Vanessa? You can’t go around treating people like shit just because you can’t handle your emotions.” Brooke understood that Nina was right, as much as it stung to hear the truth.

“I know. It’s gone too far,” Brooke agreed, her voice smaller than ever. “I just really don’t want to be attracted to her.”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” Nina instructed her. “I think you have a phone call to make.”

—

Vanessa went straight home after Friday’s shoot; she didn’t even feel up to seeing A’keria and Silky, knowing that that conversation would only end in a shit ton of tears on her behalf. She ignored a bunch of texts from the both of them, throwing her phone back into the depths of her purse.

But still, Matt was there. Of course he was.

He pulled her into a hug and didn’t seem to detect the tenseness in her shoulders.

“Good day?” he asked chirpily.

“No,” Vanessa said, too drained to even make up some bullshit story that told him otherwise.

“Why not, honey?”

“Brooke’s just being a cunt,” she complained as her boyfriend winced at the cussing. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“How so? I thought you two had stopped this whole nonsense,” Matt continued to probe.

“I don’t know, I guess our kiss scene got a bit too steamy and she basically blamed it all on me even though she totally instigated it,” Vanessa explained carelessly. Matt was stunned.

“Does she have a crush on you or something?”

“What? No,” Vanessa forced out a laugh.

“Are you sure? Because you two are so fucking obsessed with each other, I just keep thinking, surely there’s some sexual tension there. But then I realise you wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t string me along like some shit on your shoe if deep down, it’s not me you want. Right?”

Vanessa could tell that Matt was trying to keep his questioning tone light, trying to pretend like he didn’t already know the answer to that, but he sounded more like a balloon about to go bang.

“Right now, I’m feelin’ like I don’t want either one of you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Vanessa. And that Hollywood slut while you’re at it,” Matt hissed.

“Don’t call her that,” Vanessa warned, her voice low.

“Just as I thought,” Matt simmered.

“You wanna take a step back and maybe think about how the fuck you’re talkin’ to me?”

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but Vanessa wasn’t interested.

“That’s rhetorical, bitch — save it. And I’m not staying here tonight.”

—

Brooke settled down in her bed at half midnight, clutching her phone in one hand and a small piece of paper, courtesy of Nina, in the other. She’d spent all evening going over what she was going to say, but maybe part of her left it so late in hopes that Vanessa wouldn’t pick up. She knew it was a conversation they would have to have eventually, but Brooke questioned whether it was better suited to another day, when the wounds weren’t so fresh. She had no idea how Vanessa was going to react, after all.

However, she trusted that Ra’jah wouldn’t have passed the number along if it weren’t in her best interests to call Vanessa ASAP. And the possibility that Brooke had pushed them back to square one made her blood run cold, as much as she felt she deserved to have Vanessa damning her name and despising her very existence all over again.

Of course, texting was also an option. But Brooke longed for Vanessa to hear firsthand how sincere she was. How Brooke knew she had fucked up, but that there was nothing she wanted less than their relationship regressing further.

She dialled the number, and it rang a few times, before connecting the call.

“Hi — Vanessa, don’t hang up,” Brooke whispered.

“…Brooke?” Her voice was rough; Brooke thought she might’ve been crying. She wasn’t sure which was the better possibility; that she something else was the source of her pain, or that it was Brooke herself.

“Are… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa said, her words concise but without malice.

“Look, I just want to say sorry. For today. I let the kiss escalate and it was totally unfair of me to put that all on you. It wasn’t even a big deal, I shouldn’t have overreacted. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not like I tried to stop you, girl.” Brooke supposed that was true. Vanessa had kissed her back with an intensity that had made her almost wonder —

What If.

Which was insane. She had a boyfriend, and as far as Brooke knew, they were perfectly happy together. Vanessa was just a really great actress.

And Brooke could hear her voice edging towards forgiveness before she’d even had the chance to earn it and if she wasn’t sure of it already, she knew then that this woman was far too good for her.

“So are we, uh, cool? Relatively speaking, I mean,” Brooke double checked.

“I forgive you, and I’m sorry for my messiness, too. But we gotta stop going round in circles like this. I don’t wanna go in to work tomorrow and have you shut me out again, so we fight and you feel bad and I forgive you and it just keeps on repeatin’.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough; Brooke knew she had to prove that she wouldn’t fall back into the traps of her defence mechanisms.

“We have to change. Let’s start now,” she said confidently, wanting to demonstrate that she could properly open up to her co-star.

“Okay…” Vanessa trailed off.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Brooke requested. Vanessa giggled a little, sounding just as surprised as Brooke was at the turn in conversation, and it was almost like they were two regular friends swapping secrets at a sleepover.

“Hmm… oh, I’ve got one. I told Ra’jah to give you my number. So just know I could’ve made you work so much harder for that redemption, bitch.”

It wasn’t quite what Brooke had in mind, but she found herself laughing effortlessly anyway. Even though Vanessa was transparent, and she had already worked that one out.

“Not exactly personal, but it’s a start,” Brooke responded, smiling to herself in the darkness.

“What about you?” Vanessa deflected. Brooke bounced an idea around in her mind, contemplating whether she should be brave.

“Mine is: I don’t know if I ever hated you.”

“Bitch, you’re kidding. Tell me something true now, you gotta play by the rules.”

“I am telling the truth,” Brooke began to elaborate. “I mean, I didn’t exactly like you, sure, but there was always something else underneath all that.”

“Oh really?” Vanessa’s voice was quiet in disbelief. It was too much for Brooke, felt too intimate, somehow, despite the fact that the other woman was miles away.

“Yeah, I dunno. I think I was jealous of you, you’re so young and pretty and popular and all that jazz,” Brooke lied, scrunching her face up at how far it was from the facts.

“Oh.”

— was all Vanessa had to say to her, not thrilled despite the compliments Brooke had sent her way.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Vanessa concluded.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, again.”

“Thanks for calling, Brooke.”

“Goodnight, Vanessa.”

A soft “night” was all Brooke heard before the line went dead.

It had been a day. And still, as she tried to succumb to sleep, all Brooke’s mind could do was drift back to that kiss.

Brooke had shared many great kisses in her life, but there was a fire in that one unlike anything she had felt before. She could still envision every sensation; the sweet taste of Vanessa’s mouth, the scent of her intoxicating perfume, the warmth of her smooth skin brushing up against Brooke’s own; the addictive gasp she had let out as her back had made contact with the wall, too quiet for anyone else to have heard. She felt a heat pooling between her thighs at the memory; began to touch herself as she wished it were Vanessa’s fingers making her fall apart instead. When she came, it was with Vanessa’s name on her lips.

Nina was gonna have a field day once she clocked it, too — Brooke was in deep, and there was no coming up for air.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #as the stars align #rujubees #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #fluff #smut #angst #concrit welcome

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jayascorner · 5 years

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college tings

[tyler joseph x reader]

y/n was never the type of girl that would skip class. not saying that she likes school or wants to stay in school, no, she hates school’s stinkin’ guts. its just there’s a consequence, i mean, there’s always consequences. she never ever gets in trouble, and she’s practically an angel at school. no one wants to be noticed by the whole school. that’s pretty embarrassing.

but sometimes y/n needs to get away from this boy..... a boy who has always been in her high school and just happened to be at the same college as her.(like.. just great!) a boy highly annoys her; but does it on purpose. a boy that drives her crazy, but she just can’t get him off her mind. a boy that she thinks she hates, but her stupid hormones won’t let her decide whether she likes him or not.

either way he wouldn’t like her anyways, he’s probably just trying to tease her, or play with her feelings like most boys do. but he really does it just because he knows she likes him secretly.

well, anyways, this day was a great day to just stay out of his presence, or just stay out of having to talk to him. it’s kinda hard to find words to say when those brown eyes are staring into yours, and that angelic voice that comes out of his mouth. it’s just too overwhelming for her!

all this to say, yes she skipped the only class she had with him. she went to the mall with her friend brooke. that’s a great way to escape tyler.

so yeah. they were walking through the mall and found a place to sit. brooke had a hunch that she just needed to ask her.

“hey y/n?” brooke asked. “what?”

she smirked. “do you like tyler?”

y/n’s eyes widened. “what?!” she whisper shouted. “i said, do you like tyler. you know? that cute guy who hangs out with that other hot dude that dyes his hair?” is it that obvious? i hate talking to him. she thought. “uhm n-no... what makes you think that?” “ i had a hunch. and i always see you talking to him.”

her face crinkled up in disgust. “oh god no! he’s the one that talks to me! he always teases me and makes me want to die.” she said, but obviously the last one was a lie. he doesn’t make her want to die, come to think of it, y/n literally craves his voice everyday. she won’t know what to do if he leaves or if he’s not around. she just won’t admit it.

“oh is that so? usually a guy who teases a girl likes her. he just tries to find another way to flatter her...by not flattering her. y’know what i mean?”

“uh...no. i don’t know what you mean.”

brooke stopped. “you seriously don’t know what i’m talking about? a lot of boys do that. i swear there’s got to be some sexual tension between you two.”

she shook her head. “no. i don’t think so. there’s many other women for someone like him to be fond of. and it’s never gonna be me. that’s something obvious to point out.”

“okay... just don’t come screaming to me if y’all end up making out or something...”

“oh god that’s a bad visual, brooke” she said really embarrassed. and yes, that was another lie. “yeah right that’s a bad visual! i bet you’re always imagining that when he’s ‘annoying’ you.” she pointed out.

“pshhh the only thing i want to do is get away from him and have nothing to do with him.”

brooke stopped dead in her tracks as if she were thinking really hard.

“wait... what classes do you have with him?” she asked. “uh this class period. why?”

“OHHH I GET WHY YOU DECIDED TO SKIP CLASS WITH ME!!! YOU WANTED TO GET AWAY FROM HIM AND THIS WAS THE ONLY WAY!! wow i should’ve known. you know you can always tell me if you need help with a guy.”

“no no i don’t need help with guys. i still don’t know how you’re getting these ideas, they’re ridiculous.” she exclaimed.

“hey. y’know what i think is ridiculous? you denying all this. i know you think he’s hot. i see your conversations. the way your face looks. sure you want to get away, and oh! i know why, it’s that you don’t want him to see you blush or whatever. you definitely have feelings for ty-”

“DANG Y/N! are you skipping class too?” they hear someone shout from behind. lo and behold there’s a grinning tyler with his friend josh. and oh Lord he’s coming.

y/n’s heart rate went up like ten times faster. “uh oh. uh.... uh brooke can you.. cAN YOU HIDE ME!?”

brooke smirked at her and started walking backwards slowly towards josh’s direction.

“sorry y/n. you’ll have to figure this one out on your own. i got dibs on someone else.”

y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes. “great.” she muttered.

tyler was still coming. he looked so excited to see her. y/n yelped and headed for the nearest outlet store. it just so happened to be a forever 21. “y/n wait!” tyler’s voice was faint from a distance, but she was too busy to hear him. she rushed to the back of the store where she most likely wouldn’t be found.

there was a gasp heard from probably one of her other friends. “y/n?! what are you doing here?! and why are you in such a big hurry?” y/n turned around to see her friend bailey with her arms full of clothes to try on.

“uhmm.... do you have a minute?” y/n asked. “yeah, yeah sure.”

they went into the dressing room to so she could spill everything. it wasn’t really a big deal, though.

“uh so you know tyler?”

bailey started giggling. “yea.”

“well um— you see- he really annoys me and tries to talk to me a lot just to tease me about things. i wanted to get away from him because this is the only class i have with him. so i’m here and skipping class with brooke. but then he just shows up out of no where with josh! and he’s trying to get to me. and then brooke just runs away with josh, and i had nowhere else to go but here to escape! so i ended up here.”

“oh y/n. it looks like you have a crush on someone. you’re trying to avoid him aren’t you?” she asked.

y/n groaned in frustration “no i don’t have a crush on him. and no i’m not trying to avoid him. and how do you know i like him?”

bailey shook her head. “it’s so obvious that you like him! stop denying your emotions, cause deep down, you know you like him. just cut the bs already!”

“that’s exactly what i was thinking!!” y/n said.

she shrugged “anyways, don’t we need to get you some clothes so you’ll stand out to him more? ‘cause this place has really cute clothes. and i bet if we get something like a crop top, you’ll be irresistible to him.”

“what?! why are so many people trying to set me up with him?” y/n whisper shouted as her face reddened.

“because you said so yourself. you like him.” bailey said, then saw tyler enter the outlet. “i’m gonna go use the restroom.” she pointed to the restroom and walked off.

now y/n was left all alone with no one to talk to. oh wait- never mind. all except one.

she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. “hey. i didn’t know you like forever 21. anyways, why’d you run away from me?” tyler whispered in her ear, which sent shivers down her spine. y/n turned out of his grip, and pushed him away.

the thing is, he had never touched her before, and he never used his voice like that on her either. so that totally surprised and scared the heck out of her at the same time. so she looked at his eyes. they weren’t full of what they usually were, no, they were filled with confusion and concern. she started to take a few steps back, but he grabbed her hand. “what’s the matter? you can talk to me, you know. i won’t hurt you.”

she glared up at him.

“i know you won’t hurt me. but you will annoy me. in all honesty that’s literally the only thing you do to me. like, seriously! what can you possibly gain when you talk to me?”

she didn’t really mean that. it’s just what she thought she believed. and it’s not true either.

“what will i gain? well obviously to get you to like me! to actually smile when i show up, or something. i didn’t know you hated me, i’m sorry.” he apologized.

then it hit her. tyler may like me back? her attitude softened as she realized he was just trying to.... be nice? all along? it didn’t seem like that, though.

she sighed.

“no need to apologize. i don’t hate you. i actually feel the opposite. i-i just thought it was annoying how you always made me blush and feel really warm and..” you sighed. “and it just made me want to die! because i knew you would never feel the same. but here i am, telling you all this because maybe i think i lik-“ she got cut off by a pair of soft lips being attached to hers.

sadly, the kiss only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away to see y/n’s face full of shock.

she tried to say something but stuttered “u-uh”

“yeah. i’ll see you later y/n.” tyler said with a wink.

y/n stood there in shock of what just happened.

~the end~

a/n~do y’all want a part two? pls comment if you want one :))

#josh dun #tyler joseph x reader #tyler joseph #josh dun x reader’s friend #uwu #twenty one pilots #tøp #tøp fanfic #skeleton clique #clique as frick #tøp clique

5 notes · View notes

fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/learn-about-the-dakinis-fierce-female-messengers-of-wisdom-in-tibetan-buddhism/

Learn About the Dakinis: Fierce Female Messengers of Wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism

Read the stories of the Dakini—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism to tap into your feminine power.

Chris Ensey

When I was eleven, I ran home on the last day of school and tore off my dress, literally popping the buttons off, feeling simultaneously guilty and liberated. I put on an old, torn pair of cutoff jean shorts, a white T-shirt, and blue Keds sneakers, and ran with my sister into the woods behind our old colonial New Hampshire house. We went to play in the brook burbling down the steep hill over the mossy rocks, through the evergreens and deciduous trees, the water colored rich red-brown by the tannins in the leaves of the maple trees. We would play and catch foot-long white suckerfish with our hands, and then put them back because we didn’t want to kill them.

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Sometimes we swam naked at night with friends at our summerhouse in the spring-fed lake 15 miles away, surrounded by pine, birch, spruce, and maple trees. I loved the feeling of the water caressing my skin like velvet, with the moon reflecting in the mirror-like lake. My sister and my friend Joanie and I would get on our ponies bareback and urge them into the lake until they were surging up and down with water rushing over our thighs and down the backs of the horses; they were swimming with us as we laughed, clinging onto their backs.

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When violent summer thunderstorms blew through, instead of staying in the old wooden house I would run and dance outside in the rain and thunder, scaring my mother. I liked to eat with my fingers, gnawing on pork chop bones and gulping down big glasses of milk, in a hurry to get back outside. I loved gnawing on bones. My mother would shake her head, saying in desperation, “Oh, darling, please, please eat with your fork! Heavens alive, I’m raising a barbarian!”

See also This 7-Pose Home Practice Harnesses the Power of Touch

Barbarian, I thought, that sounds great! I imagined women with long hair streaming out behind them, racing their horses over wide plains. I saw streaked sunrises on crisp mornings with no school, bones to gnaw on. This wildness was so much a part of me; I could never imagine living a life that didn’t allow for it.

But then I was a wife and a mother raising two young daughters, and that wild young barbarian seemed lifetimes away. Paul and I had been married for three years when we decided to move from Vashon Island back to Boulder, Colorado, and join Trungpa Rinpoche’s community. It was wonderful to be in a big, active community with many young parents. However, the strain of the early years, our inexperience, and our own individual growth led us to decide to separate and collaborate as co-parents.

In 1978, I had been a single mother for several years when I met an Italian filmmaker, Costanzo Allione, who was directing a film on the Beat poets of Naropa University. He interviewed me because I was Allen Ginsberg’s meditation instructor, and Allen, whom I had met when I was a nun in 1972, introduced me to Costanzo. In the spring of 1979, we were married in Boulder while he was finishing his film, which was called Fried Shoes Cooked Diamonds, and soon thereafter we moved to Italy. I got pregnant that summer while we were living in a trailer in an Italian campground on the ocean near Rome, and that fall we moved into a drafty summer villa in the Alban Hills near the town of Velletri.

When I was six months pregnant, my belly measured the size of a nine-months pregnant woman’s, so they did an ultrasound and discovered I was pregnant with twins. By this time I knew that my husband was a drug addict and unfaithful. I couldn’t speak the native language and felt completely isolated. In March of 1980, I gave birth to twins, Chiara and Costanzo; they were a little early, but each weighed over five pounds. I buckled down to nursing two babies, caring for my other two daughters, and dealing with my husband’s addiction, erratic mood swings, and physical abuse, which started during my pregnancy when he began to hit me.

My feelings of overwhelm and anxiety increased daily, and I began to wonder about how my life as a mother and a Western woman really connected with my Buddhist spirituality. How had things ended up like this? How had I lost that wild, independent girl and left my life as a nun, ending up in Italy with an abusive husband? It seemed that by choosing to disrobe, I had lost my path, and myself.

Then two months later, on June 1, 1980, I woke up from a night of broken sleep and stumbled into the room where Chiara and her brother Costanzo were sleeping. I nursed him first because he was crying, and then turned to her. She seemed very quiet. When I picked her up, I immediately knew: she felt stiff and light. I remembered the similar feeling from my childhood, picking up my small marmalade colored kitten that had been hit by a car and crawled under a bush to die. Around Chiara’s mouth and nose was purple bruising where blood had pooled; her eyes were closed, but her beautiful, soft amber hair was the same and she still smelled sweet. Her tiny body was there, but she was gone. Chiara had died of sudden infant death syndrome.

See also Relieve Anxiety with a Simple 30-Second Practice

The Buddhist stupa of Swayambhu in the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal.

Bikalpa Pokhrel

The Dakini Spirit

Following Chiara’s death came what I can only call a descent. I was filled with confusion, loss, and grief. Buffeted by raw, intense emotions, I felt more than ever that I desperately needed some female guidance. I needed to turn somewhere: to women’s stories, to women teachers, to anything that would guide me as a mother, living this life of motherhood—to connect me to my own experience as a woman and as a serious Buddhist practitioner on the path. I needed the stories of dakinis—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism. But I really didn’t know where to turn. I looked into all kinds of resources, but I couldn’t find my answers.

At some point in my search, the realization came to me: I have to find them myself. I have to find their stories. I needed to research the life stories of the Buddhist women of the past and see if I could discover some thread, some key that would help unlock the answers about the dakinis and guide me through this passage. If I could find the dakinis, I would find my spiritual role models—I could see how they did it. I could see how they made the connections between mother, wife, and woman . . . how they integrated spirituality with everyday life challenges.

About a year later, I was in California doing a retreat with my teacher, Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche, who was teaching a practice called Chöd that involved invoking the presence of one of the great female masters of Tibetan Buddhism, Machig Labdrön. And in this practice there is an invocation, in which you visualize her as a young, dancing, 16-year-old white dakini. So there I was doing this practice with him, and for some reason that night he kept repeating it. We must have done it for several hours. Then during the section of the practice where we invoked Machig Labdrön, I suddenly had the vision of another female form emerging out of the darkness.

See also 10 Best Women-Only Yoga Retreats Around the World

What I saw behind her was a cemetery from which she was emerging. She was old, with long, pendulous breasts that had fed many babies; golden skin; and gray hair that was streaming out. She was staring intensely at me, like an invitation and a challenge. At the same time, there was incredible compassion in her eyes. I was shocked because this woman wasn’t what I was supposed to be seeing. Yet there she was, approaching very close to me, her long hair flowing, and looking at me so intensely. Finally, at the end of this practice, I went up to my teacher and said, “Does Machig Labdrön ever appear in any other forms?”

He looked at me and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say any more.

I went to bed that night and had a dream in which I was trying to get back to Swayambhu Hill in Nepal, where I’d lived as a nun, and I felt an incredible sense of urgency. I had to get back there and it wasn’t clear why; at the same time, there were all kinds of obstacles. A war was going on, and I struggled through many barriers to finally reach the hill, but the dream didn’t complete itself. I woke up still not knowing why I was trying to return.

The next night I had the same dream. It was slightly different, and the set of obstacles changed, but the urgency to get back to Swayambhu was just as strong. Then on the third night, I had the same dream again. It is really unusual to have the same dream again and again and again, and I finally realized that the dreams were trying to tell me I had to go back to Swayambhu; they were sending me a message. I spoke to my teacher about the dreams and asked, “Does this seem like maybe I should actually go there?”

He thought about it for a while; again, he simply answered, “Yes.”

I decided to return to Nepal, to Swayambhu, to find the stories of women teachers. It took several months of planning and arrangements, a key part being to seek out the biographies of the great female Buddhist teachers. I would use the trip to go back to the source and find those yogini stories and role models I so desperately needed. I went alone, leaving my children in the care of my husband and his parents. It was an emotional and difficult decision, since I had never been away from my children, but there was a deep calling within me that I had to honor and trust.

See also 7 Things I Learned About Women from Doing Yoga

Back in Nepal, I found myself walking up the very same staircase, one step after another, up the Swayambhu Hill, which I had first climbed in 1967. Now it was 1982, and I was the mother of three. When I emerged at the top, a dear friend of mine was there to greet me, Gyalwa, a monk I had known since my first visit. It was as though he was expecting me. I told him I was looking for the stories of women, and he said, “Oh, the life stories of dakinis. Okay, come back in a few days.”

And so I did. When I returned, I went into his room in the basement of the monastery, and he had a huge Tibetan book in front of him, which was the life story of Machig Labdrön, who’d founded the Chöd practice and had emerged to me as a wild, gray-haired dakini in my vision in California. What evolved out of that was research, and eventually the birth of my book Women of Wisdom, which tells my story and provides the translation of six biographies of Tibetan teachers who were embodiments of great dakinis. The book was my link to the dakinis, and it also showed me, from the tremendous response the book received, that there was a real need—a longing—for the stories of great women teachers. It was a beautiful affirmation of the need for the sacred feminine.

Learn how to step into your feminine power.

Brooke Lark

Coming Out of the Dark

During the process of writing Women of Wisdom, I had to do research on the history of the feminine in Buddhism. What I discovered was that for the first thousand years in Buddhism, there were few representations of the sacred feminine, although there were women in the Buddhist sangha (community) as nuns and lay householder devotees, and the Buddha’s wife and the stepmother who raised him had a somewhat elevated status. But there were no female buddhas and no feminine principles, and certainly no dakinis. It was not until the traditional Mahayana Buddhist teachings joined with the Tantric teachings and developed into Vajrayana or Tantric Buddhism in the eighth century, that we began to see the feminine emerge with a larger role.

See also Tantra Rising

Before we continue, I want to distinguish here between neo-Tantra and more traditional Tantric Buddhism. Most people these days who see the word Tantra think about neo-Tantra, which has developed in the West as a form of sacred sexuality derived from, but deviating significantly from, traditional Buddhist or Hindu Tantra. Neo-Tantra offers a view of sexuality that contrasts with the repressive attitude toward sexuality as nonspiritual and profane.

Buddhist Tantra, also known as Vajrayana (Indestructible Vehicle), is much more complex than neo-Tantra and embedded in meditation, deity yoga, and mandalas—it is yoga with an emphasis on the necessity of a spiritual teacher and transmission. I will use the words Tantra and Vajrayana interchangeably throughout this book. Tantra uses the creative act of visualization, sound, and hand gestures (mudras) to engage our whole being in the process of meditation. It is a practice of complete engagement and embodiment of our whole being. And within Buddhist Tantra, often sexuality is used as a meta-phor for the union of wisdom and skillful means. Although sexual practice methods exist, Buddhist Tantra is a rich and complex spiritual path with a long history, whereas neo-Tantra is an extraction from traditional Tantric sexual practices with some additions that have nothing to do with it. So here when I say Tantra or Vajrayana, I am referring not to neo-Tantra but to traditional Buddhist Tantra.

Tantric Buddhism arose in India during the Pala Empire, whose kings ruled India primarily between the eighth and eleventh centuries. Remember that Buddhism had already existed for more than a thousand years by this time, so Vajrayana was a late development in the history of Buddhism. The union of Buddhism and Tantra was considered to be in many ways the crown jewel of the Pala period.

Although the origins of Buddhist Tantra are still being debated by scholars, it seems that it arose out of very ancient pre-Aryan roots represented in Shaktism and Saivism combining with Mahayana Buddhism. Though there is still scholarly debate about the origins of Vajrayana, Tibetans say it was practiced and taught by the Buddha. If we look at the Pala period, we find a situation where the Buddhist monks have been going along for more than a thousand years, and they have become very intellectually astute, developing various schools of sophisticated philosophy, Buddhist universities, and a whole culture connected to Buddhism that is very strong and alive. But at this point the monks have also become involved with politics, and have begun to own land and animals and to receive jewels and other riches as gifts from wealthy patrons. They also have become rather isolated from the lay community, living a sort of elite, intellectual, and rather exclusive existence.

The Tantric revolution—and it was a revolution in the sense that it was a major turning point—took place within that context. When the Tantric teachings joined Buddhism, we see the entrance of the lay community, people who were working in the everyday world, doing ordinary jobs and raising children. They might come from any walk of life: jewelers, farmers, shopkeepers, royalty, cobblers, blacksmiths, wood gatherers, to name a few. They worked in various kinds of occupations, including housewives. They were not monks who had isolated themselves from worldly life, and their spiritual practice reflected their experiences. There are many early tales, called the Siddha Stories, of people who lived and worked in ordinary situations, and who by turning their life experiences into a spiritual practice achieved enlightenment.

See also Tantric Breathing Practice to Merge Shiva and Shakti and Achieve Oneness

There are also some stories of enlightened women practitioners and teachers in early Buddhism. We see a blossoming of women gurus, and also the presence of female Buddhas and, of course, the dakinis. In many stories, these women taught the intellectual monks in a very direct, juicy way by uniting spirituality with sexuality; they taught based on using, rather than renouncing, the senses. Their teachings took the learned monks out of the monastery into real life with all its rawness, which is why several of the Tantric stories begin with a monk in a monastic university who has a visitation from a woman that drives him out in search of something beyond the monastic walls.

Tantric Buddhism has a genre of literature called “praise of women,” in which the virtues of women are extolled. From the Candamaharosana Tantra: “When one speaks of the virtues of women, they surpass those of all living beings. Wherever one finds tenderness or protectiveness, it is in the minds of women. They provide sustenance to friends and strangers alike. A woman who is like that is as glorious as Vajrayogini herself.”

There is no precedent for this in Buddhist literature, but in Buddhist Tantric texts, writings urge respect for women, and stories about the negative results of failing to recognize the spiritual qualities of women are present. And in fact, in Buddhist Tantra, the fourteenth root of downfall is the failure to recognize all women as the embodiment of wisdom.

In the Tantric period, there was a movement abolishing barriers to women’s participation and progress on the spiritual path, offering a vital alternative to the monastic universities and ascetic traditions. In this movement, one finds women of all castes, from queens and princesses to outcasts, artisans, winemakers, pig herders, courtesans, and housewives.

For us today, this is important as we are looking for female models of spirituality that integrate and empower women, because most of us will not pursue a monastic life, yet many of us have deep spiritual longings. Previously excluded from teaching men or holding positions of leadership, women—for whom it was even questioned whether they could reach enlightenment—were now pioneering, teaching, and assuming leadership roles, shaping and inspiring a revolutionary movement. There were no institutional barriers preventing women from excelling in this tradition. There was no religious law or priestly caste defining their participation.

See also Tap the Power of Tantra: A Sequence for Self-Trust

Dakini Symbols

Another important part of the Tantric practice is the use of symbols surrounding and being held by the deities. The first and probably most commonly associated symbol of the dakini is what’s called the trigug in Tibetan, the kartari in Sanskrit, and in English, “the hooked knife.” This is a crescent-shaped knife with a hook on the end of the blade and a handle that is ornamented with different symbols. It’s modeled from the Indian butcher’s knife and sometimes called a “chopper.” The hook on the end of the blade is called the “hook of compassion.” It’s the hook that pulls sentient beings out of the ocean of suffering. The blade cuts through self-clinging, and through the dualistic split into the great bliss. The cutting edge of the knife is representative of the cutting quality of wisdom, the wisdom that cuts through self-deception. To me it is a powerful symbol of the wise feminine, because I find that often women tend to hang on too long and not cut through what needs to be cut through. We may hang on to relationships that are unhealthy, instead of ending what needs to be ended. The hooked knife is held in the dakini’s raised right hand; she must grasp this power and be ready to strike. The blade is the shape of the crescent moon, and the time of the month associated with the dakini is ten days after the full moon, when the waning moon appears as a crescent at dawn; this is the twenty-fifth day of the lunar cycle and is called Dakini Day in the Tibetan calendar. When I come out early on those days and it is still dark, I look up and see the crescent moon; it always reminds me of the dakini’s knife.

The other thing about the dakinis is that they are dancing. So this is an expression when all bodily movements become the expression of enlightened mind. All activities express awakening. Dance is also an expression of inner ecstasy. The dakini has her right leg raised and her left leg extended. The raised right leg symbolizes absolute truth. The extended left leg rests on the ground, symbolizing the relative truth, the truth about being in the world, the conventional truth. She’s also naked, so what does that mean? She symbolizes naked awareness—the unadorned truth, free from deception. And she is standing on a corpse, which symbolizes that she has overcome self-clinging; the corpse represents the ego. She has overcome her own ego.

The dakini also wears bone jewelry, gathered from the charnel-ground bones and carved into ornaments: She wears anklets, a belt like an apron around her waist, necklaces, armbands, and bracelets. Each one of these has various meanings, but the essential meaning of all the bone ornaments is to remind us of renunciation and impermanence. She’s going beyond convention; fear of death has become an ornament to wear. We think of jewels as gold or silver or something pretty, but she’s taken that which is considered repulsive and turned it into an ornament. This is the transformation of the obstructed patterns into wisdom, taking what we fear and expressing it as an ornament.

See also Decoding Sutra 2.16: Prevent Future Pain from Manifesting

The dakinis tend to push us through blockages. They appear during challenging, crucial moments when we might be stymied in our lives; perhaps we don’t know what to do next and we are in transition. Maybe an obstacle has arisen and we can’t figure out how to get around or get through—then the dakinis will guide us. If in some way we’re stuck, the dakinis will appear and open the way, push us through; sometimes the energy needs to be forceful, and that’s when the wrathful manifestation of a dakini appears. Another important aspect of the dakini’s feminine energy is how they cut through notions of pure and impure, clean and unclean, what you should do and shouldn’t do; they break open the shell of those conventional structures into an embrace of all life in which all experience is seen as sacred.

Practicing Tibetan Buddhism more deeply, I came to realize that the dakinis are the undomesticated female energies—spiritual and erotic, ecstatic and wise, playful and profound, fierce and peaceful—that are beyond the grasp of the conceptual mind. There is a place for our whole feminine being, in all its guises, to be present.

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Lama Tsultrim Allione is the founder and resident teacher of Tara Mandala, a retreat center located outside of Pagosa Springs, Colorado. She is the best-selling author of Women of Wisdom and Feeding Your Demons. Recognized in Tibet as the reincarnation of a renowned eleventh-century Tibetan yogini, she is one of the only female lamas in the world today. Learn more at taramandala.org.

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

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lagarconne-journal · 7 years

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Veronika Heilbrunner — Creative Influence

Veronika Heilbrunner is that refreshing combination of cool girl who also happens to be the nicest; with a healthy strain of goofiness thrown in. A street style favorite, the former model and style editor of Harper’s Bazaar Germany, Heilbrunner more recently co-founded the online fashion, style, and beauty magazine, Hey Woman!. And then there is her stately beauty—unique, effortless, and bold—all despite an utter of makeup. In fact, Heilbrunner was recently included, along with Hari Neff, Winnie Harlow, and Linda Rodin, in InStyle Magazine's May 2017 piece, Modern Girl Makeup, which trumped the beauty of individuality. And, we couldn’t agree more. But more so, what is Heilbrunner doing that we’re not? So, La Garçonne had to ask. Here, Heilbrunner exclusively shares a few of her favorite things.

What is your most worn fashion item?

I guess my vintage Levi’s jeans. I got my first pair when I was 13. Unfortunately, I didn’t keep them. The last pair I bought was in Mitte-Berlin, in a secondhand shop on Torstrasse street. I just keep on trying to find new ones, wherever I can find them—luckily, now there is RE/DONE, so it’s easier to find new pairs—because when you wear them so often, they start disappearing, having more holes and so on. I’m like a truffle swine on a mission!

What is your most beloved fashion item?

My shrunken black Acne Studios leather jacket. I bought it at their flagship store in Stockholm—I literally wear it everyday. In the summer, with a romantic dress and in the winter, layered under coats.

What’s currently on your fashion wish list?

The perfect three-piece suit.

How would you best describe your fashion look?

Romantic yet practical. I love fashion and I love beautiful outstanding pieces. But I don’t want to wear something that I can’t pull them off, or that I don’t feel comfortable in, so I’ll layer a turtleneck underneath a camisole, or pair heavy boots or sneakers with a ruffled dress, or socks with sandals.

How would you best describe your beauty look?

Very simple. My all-time goal is to look like I don’t do anything. Of course, that is not true. But I just love being able to see skin and not layers of make-up, and I think a cool look needs to be balanced with undone face and hair.

What's your daily beauty routine?

In the morning, I wipe my face with tonic from Bioderma, then put on serum by Biologique Recherché (Placenta, A-Glyca, Colostrum). My day cream and eye cream are also Biologique Recherché. I scrub my body with a brush and then put grapefruit oil (it’s mixed by my mum with Professor Wabner ingredients) or Diptyque body cream. I love Mason Pearson brushes (at home I use the big one, for travels I have the baby one in pale blue, so cute), and in my hair, I use hair oil by Davines or Sachajuan ocean mist depending on how soft or dry my hair is that day. I use YSL´s classic Touche Eclat concealer around my eyes. Then I apply Magic Stripes Strips on my eyelids and accentuate my eyebrows with a Chanel Brow Pencil in Brun Naturel 30. This takes up about 9 minutes.

In the evening I love a bath with Susanne Kaufmann salts. St. John´s Wort Bath is one of my very favorites—it’s so relaxing. I clean my face it with Lait VIP O2 Biologique Recherché cleansing milk (I am unfortunately no Cleopatra), then apply their P50 and my morning serums again. After that, my night cream is Biologique Recherché masque vernix—which doesn’t smell pleasant, but I love it! I started using their products this January and I feel my skin has improved enormously.

Did you get any beauty advice growing up? What was it, and who gave it to you?

“Always clean your face before sleeping. And, moisturize!” is probably the best advice I’ve been given by my mum. I can’t remember when exactly, but I’m sure I was around twelve years-old or so when my skin started to get difficult, and I was looking for solutions.

What is your one beauty go-to product?

Aesop Rejuvenate Body Balm.

Who do you find beautiful?

Charlotte Rampling then and now, Anita Pallenberg then and now, Daria Werbowy, Sofia Coppola.

Who did you find to be a beauty inspiration when you were growing up?

Winona Ryder, Sophie Marceau.

Do you have a tried-and-true beauty product you've been loyal to for ages?

I’ve used Kaufmanns kinder-creme as lip balm for fifteen years. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the only solution I’ve found that curbs my addiction of applying lipcare every few minutes. With Kaufmanns kinder-creme, I can go two to three hours without having to reapply anything!

What is your...

Bath product: Aromatherapy oils or Susanne Kaufmann bath salts Body lotion: Diptyque Body Cream in winter, Santa Maria Novella lotion in summer Face cleanser: Biologique Recherché Lait VIP 02 Face moisturizer: Biologique Recherché creme VIP 02 Hair product: Christophe Robin antioxidant cleansing milk with 4 oils and blueberry Fragrance: Tom Ford Portofino Neroli, Hermes Hermessence Vetiver Tonka

What beauty look do you not understand?

Layers of makeup and contouring. I find it super unattractive from close-up.

Do you have a beauty talent that you can do on yourself?

I can make myself a decent French braid in two minutes.

Which beauty step do you think is bullshit?

Primer! Never understood this one. I always assume: the more layers I put on, the sooner it’ll all rub off.

Any beauty product or treatment you're curious to try?

I’d love to do a homeopathic detox, where you get analyzed by a homeopathic doctor, then take those drops or pastilles and cut out the caffeine and alcohol for a couple weeks. I hear that everyone feels great, and basically doesn't get sick, or at least not for some time—it even also eliminates radiation from your body (that you get from flying). I’ve actually done one before, but it’s been a while. You really need to have the time for it and be in the mood—especially to go without caffeine and alcohol. Sounds weird, but it’s tough for me…

Is there a beauty product you wish someone would invent?

One moisturizer that you can use for everything—hair, hands, face and body.

Do you consider yourself wellness/health-minded?

Yes, I love the idea of being healthy because when you’re healthy, you feel great, happy, and strong. And, you can manage stress so much easier. I go through phases of taking magnesium supplements when I do a lot walking or sports. It helps to recover faster and gives me a better night’s sleep. When I feel weak and a cold coming on, I take all the vitamin supplements I can get. But in general I prefer to eat diversified, and sleep a lot.

Do you exercise?

Yes, yoga is the most important for me. I do it once a week for an hour; in between, I do quick workouts of ten minutes and stretching with our Hey Woman! instructors to de-stress and relax. We have several different workouts, even one for creativity! In general though, I walk a lot, and I really enjoy it. When at home, I horseback ride at least twice a week. It was my childhood hobby, and I just picked it up again, and it makes me so happy. Once I arrive in the stable and begin cleaning my horse, I forget all about fashion, social media, and my to-do lists. It’s like a mini-holiday every time.

Who do you think has aged beautifully?

Every woman that has not done obvious surgery to her face. I love wrinkles. They tell a beautiful story of a fun and adventurous life. Marisa Berenson and Lauren Hutton look stunning. I think it also helps to be healthy and not ultra-skinny—Brooke Sheilds or Catherine Deneuve look stunning—because too gaunt a look can make women look unnecessarily exhausted.

#veronika heilbrunner #beauty secrets #natural makeup #lagarconne

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thesecretlifeofkelseybeatty · 7 years

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Notes from the Graduation Freak Out:

THINGS TO DO

finish sorting photos

get photo white shelf

hang white photo shelving in closet, small mirror in room

paint my room, ryans room (white doors and shelf too)

goodwill, find a place to sell prom/homecoming dresses

put everything from attic into ryans closet

clean carpet with pee on it

mail thank you cards

make cd of already taken senior pictures for shannon

call environment about supplies

wash all clothes

move ryan's bed

clean out garage

move my bed downstairs

strip mom's furniture

get ready for graduation party

call about catering

tell tammy about what kind of cupcakes

get ping pong, badmitten, and bag toss games

get tables and chairs

ymca re-hire sheet find out hours

wordsmith

daze, fogg, glare

tingle incessent

alive feel grudges sinuses temples

buzz

like opening a new liter of pop incessantly over and over

Buzz, you experience every atom within you silently reverberating like a drugish high you can compare to when you were young and in revolt. Its the kind of feeling that reassures you - your still alive. You feel think and are three in one in the image of the creator.

Brooke -

I remember from a young age I could be friends with anyone - one on one. I always had the ability to watch people, understand them, initiate conversation and act how I would procieve they would want me to act. I could conform to whoever they needed me to be and I liked it that way.

With each different individual a different side of myself would shine through. Around Demi I always wanted to hear and tell stories, Around Roni I would burp on demand, Around Abby I always wanted to be a badass girl, Around Tori I would incessantly chat, But around you I would simply be more myself.

I honestly can't say that about any other friend. There are just certain people who were destined to click with….. I was a friendly yet generic human being. If anyone needed a friend I was there to suffice their need. I could conform to whoever they needed me to be and I liked that. They w….

However - I knew in the seventh grade when you sat behind me in Mr. Maney's class that you were significantly different. I loved leaving Mrs. Cavanaugh's room and coming to history because I'd get to chill with you for an hour. You were the coolest person I knew and I honestly didn't think you liked me that much because you already had so many other friends. In my eyes you were super popular and I could tell why. I wanted to be your best friend but I knew it probably wouldn't happen. As time went on we started to hangout a lot. You were the link in the chain that led me to all the people I considered to be my friends. If it wasn't for you I would've had a completely different experience at SJHS but because of you I had some of the best times of my life. I remember so vividly cackling as we made fun of Mr. Maney and used our feet to look through our history books as we took the same test over and over again - learning absolutely nothing and Taylor McNutt would turn around from the front of the classroom and stare like we were freaks. Then in eighth grade when we watched that one movie in history with Estep and that light was shinning all awkwardly in your eyes and your flipped out and I started cackling and Estep almost had to stop the movie to correct us. And how we thought we were so badass because everyday we would sit down for the pledge because thats what Mrs. Jordan did and she was the coolest teacher. So many people look back at junior high and say that everyone has to go through that awkward phase but for us those were our glory days. Life was beautiful.

When every I hear about someone else's junior high synopsis I always hear about how awkward and terrible their years were - how everyone was just trying to fit in and figure out who they really were. When I look back - I don't see that at all. Those were our glory days. In junior high, life was beautiful.

Since then, 4 years have passed and we both have drastically changed. We are not our junior high selves.

There are few people who I open up to.

I might not have always been your best friend, but I remember since Mr. Maney's class in the seventh grade you were the only person who You were the link to the group who became my best friends.

Drew, I know were not as close as we used to be but you are still one of my very best friends. Wether you realize it or not - you mean so much to me. It has been awesome watching God unfold His plans for you. Though right now your path may seem vague, beautiful blooms are sprouting. Be faithful and patient and God will reveal everything He has in store for you. I love you and am praying for you. Thanks for being such a good friend.

Paley - You crack me up. I know we got off to a rough start but I'm genuinely thankful I've gotten to know you over the past four years. You made our soccer team a blast. We couldn't have asked for a better captain or team mate. My prayers go out to you as you start at MVNU next year. I hope you and your cutie stay solid and that you guys love it there. Good luck!

Demi,

Tori, we've been friends going on 15 years now.

Elizebeth Dorthey Grove,

You crack me up. I'm really thankful that I've gotten to know you better this year. Playing sports with you was something I'll never forget. Your carefree personality added so many laughs to my year. Good luck with school dilemma, it's obvious that God is with you in this situation wether you realize it or not.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Jenny Filaseta, You are one of the only people who I can say has known me throughout my life. Though we haven't been extremely close throughout it's entriety - there have been moments when I would have called you my best friend. I'm so thankful for the memories that we share and the new experiences we will share in at Sinclair. Best of luck!

Alyssa DarkoW

Dana Golich

looking back im actually really sad i didn't get to knw you better. you are a cool person with such a beautiful heart. Best of luck next year at college! And - we deffinately need to chill sometime this summer!

Alexis Colon

Andrea Meholick

Julia Hitchcock

Emily Clark, You may not realize this, but you are one of my favorite people.

Brady Kleindenst

Lane Collins

Kelly Wall

Miss Snook,

If you were 40 years younger, I would've wanted you to be my best friend. I'm envious of your commitment to Christ. Because of your commitment, God uses you in so beautiful ways and I can't help but desire that in my own life. Though you may not realize, you have planted so many good seeds in our class this year. You've reprimanded us, encouraged us and overall taught us so much more than sign language. I'm so thankful God placed you in my life at this vital time.

I say all this not because I want you to feel proud of yourself but because I want you to continue. Thank you so much for being a good example of what a disciple looks like.

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empressxmachina · 4 years

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Dolled Up and Underdressed // 1

Promises, part I

--a visual--

The 27th. The day had come.

Hailey didn’t know how to feel. Was she even feeling anything? There was just too much going through her mind at the moment: too much, all too quickly. But the excitement of it all didn’t turn her away. It only made her want to go through it more.

She had to know if all of this was worth it, and this was the highest chance she was ever going to get.

“I never thought I’d see the day.” Hailey stood in front of her bedroom mirror in complete awe of the girl she saw. “What is this? Who am I?” Her caste-bound shackles locking her to the dregs of society vanished, and her appearance finally matched the whimsies and wonders she kept inside.

The markup of any purchasable item, from the everyday necessity to the extravagant pleasure, was one of many scarlet letters set solely for those in her stratum, and it left no found crumb or earned coin to be wasted. Every member of the family that could work did work – some, including Hailey, having multiple jobs – but that effort was only displayed in what was inherited and passed down.

Keep your head high, your grades up, and your family first. With those in order, anything was possible. Hailey and the rest of the Wainscot crew usually lived day-to-day with forced hand-me-downs, homemade stuff, and refurbished goods. Yet, here Hailey was in an elaborate ensemble enhanced with sparkles, glittering, and jingling from head to toe, with a ticket – a literal S-pass – straight to the top of the social hierarchy and a party within it.

A party.

A party some cute dude on the internet invited her to. A dude with style, coolness, and chiseled features that were only seen in models. A dude with sweetness like a cake atop talent like a savant. A dude whose portrait was plastered to her mirror with a heart-shaped sticker. A dude that paid her entire way – outfit, travel, and all – to get her with him tonight.

A dude she’s only ever met in real life once.

“Hailey?” her mother Brooke called from the foyer below, breaking the blissful silence and her spacing-out session. “Your ride is here.”

The damsel was so caught up in the glamorous abnormality of her look that, during that moment, she forgot she was at home, let alone not alone. If she wanted to make a good impression at the affair, then she couldn’t stay there much longer, despite the comfort in being somewhere she knew holding her in place. One more glance in the reflective glass – her cheery yet nervous grin and blushes comparable to her cherry dress – and the retrieval of her shoulder bag, and she was off.

The light clicks of her strappy heels as she walked to the stairs were a new sound: an extreme difference to the normal squeaks of sneakers or thuds of boots. They went in a balanced rhythm, however, as she suppressed her only reason to falter her steps: her emotions. It was rare when she wore them, but she had enough experience to know how to walk the walk well.

The walk and the presentation, apparently.

“Lee! Lee!” The cutest voice to ever grace ears greeted Hailey at the top of the stairs. Its owner beamed from down below with a smile almost as bright as Hailey’s dress. If Hailey had been showing any sort of negativity at the time, it would’ve flown off her face.

“You like my dress, Addy?” Hailey responded to her sister, flattered. “You think I’m pretty?”

Brooke replied for both of them, turning away from peeking out a window to the front yard.

“I think she does, and so do I. Hailey Rose, you are… a doll.”

‘Doll.’ Her mother’s breathy inflection was easy to miss but enough for Hailey to catch as she descended the stairs. ‘You look like a doll. Don’t be a doll.’

Upon touching the ground floor, Hailey dropped to her knees, arms out to clasp her little sister running to her for a hug. With her focus pointed on the six-year-old, she didn’t immediately embrace Brooke on her approach. At her lying her hand on Hailey’s shoulder, the eldest daughter rose, ready to receive some protective, parting words from her knowledgeable mother. She wasn’t ready, however, for the view that she managed to catch through the curtains past Addy’s frizzes.

Her father Garrett took his stance as Man-of-the-House, sturdy, looking like he just got done with yard work. Her younger brothers, fellow teens Fitz and Tuck, watched from behind on nearly broken bicycles. The three of them staring down the lone enforcer talking to them outside a dark, window-tinted, armored van straight out of the Capital, where he was strapped in both padding and a visible pistol on their hip.

Garrett spoke, hands occasionally grazing over a concealed piece of his own, and he spoke confidently, sometimes able to make the shielded soldier shake. Younger Tuck’s eyes and head consistently swiveled, attempting to count all the explicit munitions hidden underneath their uniform. Despite her distance and partial view, Hailey could make out at least four, along with seven ornamental things on their person that could be used offensively. Fitz, meanwhile, had his eyes behind and beyond the van’s open door, and Hailey could only wonder what lived there inside.

“Two-Piece,” Brooke addressed Hailey, snapping the daughter to the mother’s attention. “You’ve got everything you need?”

‘Two-Piece.’ Her favorite form of swimsuit when able. Her place in her generation of the family. Her most skilled form of defense. A multi-entendre of a nickname the matriarch used rarely aloud, so it had to be go-time.

Hailey relinquished her sister, letting her free to go elsewhere, leaving the two women eye-to-eye and alone to be adults about it all.

Hailey responded but not without stumbling, gripping her bag tightly. “I… I think so.”

“Even with that?” Brooke countered, tilting her head toward the outside happenings.

Hailey glanced over to her mother’s shoulder at the conversation – ending with the Wainscot men walking back toward the house – before answering. “Yeah.”

“Good. Good.” An uncomfortable pause sat between the words, and a heavy silence lingered after them as Brooke’s gaze traveled past Hailey to Addy and then past them both. The action, not uncommon but still unpleasant, led Hailey to start assuming the worst.

“Mama?” She cocked her head to the side, bouncing her spray-stiffened curls like springs. “Is there something I should know?”

Brooke opened her mouth to respond, but her breaths were wordless as the front door opened, revealing the two sons waving at the elder duo, cheerfully galivanting to and through the living room, Tuck grabbing Addy, and the three of them then running into the backyard. Brooke beamed for a moment at all her happy kids until she felt Hailey’s gaze drilling into her.

Placing one hand on the ajar door’s knob, she whisked Hailey into the other in a near back-breaking embrace and blew into her ears, somehow with a sting, “You know your worth. You better come back to me. Whatever it takes.”

Hailey waited for an ‘I love you’ or the wishing her well she expected. After realizing it was never going to come, she reflected her mother’s tugs back to her for what felt like forever as though they were the last ones she’d ever give and get. For all that Hailey knew, and for all Brooke didn’t say, they may as well have been. With a kiss to her mother’s cheek and shoulder, a tight grip back on her bag and all it held, and a final look at the reconstructed log cabin she knew as home, she was out the door and onto the entryway where her father stood, cross-armed and waiting.

She walked up to him with a twirl, glistening like the star she always was in his eyes. Her smile stretched for miles, shining amidst the cloudiness of the sky above, but it dropped upon noticing how his expected enamor was barely a smirk.

“Daddy?” Hailey fretted, getting close to him with wide eyes. “Is something wrong?” Thinking back to her mother’s ways – those ways lingering with her watching at the front door – and not ignoring the observant sentry waiting to escort her, she repeated her previous question with him, also, through a hush. “Is there something I should know?”

Garrett shot a look at his wife, speaking code in silence that Hailey would never know and getting a single nod from Brooke back. Hailey, seeing that, waited for a chastising to come regarding going off with some stranger or putting some gala over family affairs, but none came.

In the blink of an eye, Hailey was, once again, thrust into a bear hug, her face pressed deeply into Garrett’s chest but not enough to ruin her makeup. Immersed in his musk, she felt his breaths upon the crown of her head as he gruffly yet affectionately warned, “My Two-Piece better come back in one… and breathing.”

A double-dose of unanticipated, love-doused, threat-laced farewells amidst the lingering eye of an armed enforcer was not what the doctor ordered. But no matter how emotionally sick she was, she was not going to miss out on this opportunity.

When else would her degenerate-self ever get to experience the life of an S-Class? Would she ever get to, again? Not in this lifetime, surely. If it led to her plummeting all she lived for towards inescapable failure, then at least she’d go down swinging and stylish.

“Uh…” It took some time, but Hailey did eventually complete the contract her parents set in front of her. She verbally swore her soul to her father, “She… she will,” and then, after a returned smile, to Brooke when she ached her way to them for a proper sendoff, “I will be back.” Hailey made sure to be a good big sister and not forget her brothers in the pact, too, mentally coddling them in cuddles before the awaiting officer ushered her into the van.

The parents gripped each other tightly in anticipation of the inevitable. Hailey and the soldier vanished behind the dark door, and its vehicle revved down the road, shrinking in the distance into nothing. After what felt like forever, it was just Garrett and Brooke, alone with their thoughts. But as to be expected from raising soon-to-be six children, that silence didn’t last.

Garrett was the one to re-stoke the fire and its entangled anxieties. “Did Dill’s docs match up?”

Dill. Dillon. Hailey’s older brother off at the Academy. He who, after catching the notice of Hailey’s invitation, sent a warning of what to expect from S-Classes and their passes, Hailey’s way of transport, and pretty much anything the feds would send her way for such an uncommon occurrence.

“Uh…” Showing exactly where Hailey got it from, Brooke struggled to recollect the details for the sudden inquiry. Sudden in questioning and the suddenness of Dillon’s call.

It was fair for a mother to wonder about her child, let alone her eldest one out of the house. But with Dillon, for numerous reasons, it was always more likely for Brooke to call him than vice versa. Nonetheless, he had made a move first, right as his parents were about to ask him, culminating into both an extended conversation and increased awareness of Hailey’s bizarre excursion.

More knowledge and more fears, compacted into a single, “Uh, huh.”

Just as succinctly, Garrett replied with a simple “Mm” as he wrapped a bulky, etched arm around his wife’s shoulder blade. The silence continued for a bit before it grew too tiresome for Brooke to stand in place. Feeling the wavering beneath him, Garrett gripped her lovingly tighter, pivoting the pair of them and the unborn to head back inside.

Upon reaching the door, his questions continued. “You think Two-Piece can take it?”

They glided through the foyer, passing a table that greeted any welcome guests with a portrait of their big family. It was a couple of years old at that point and would be marked excruciatingly out-of-date with the new member moving in soon, but it was a lovely snapshot in time. Dillon was about to head off into the most real aspects of adulthood, and, if all went according to plan, Hailey would be doing the same come two season changes.

Her charm exploded out the frame, showing such sweetness with a smile amid her toned figure built from years of hard work and dedication. Such a perfect combination could not be lost; thus, Brooke only had one thing she could say about her eldest girl,

“She has no choice.”

Garrett chuckled at the bluntness, not expecting anything less from the lady he married. “That’s not what I asked, hon.”

“But that’s the answer. I don’t know what you want from me.”

Grass and dirt crunched underneath the couple’s feet as they crossed the living room to the backyard, where they found the children. In doing so, the familiar aromas of nature greeted them. The farm and crops in the distance. A child in need of a shower. A fire burning. Oxidizing metal from all sides.

“What I want is a way to get out of this compost heap,” Garrett confided with a sigh, seeing the antics the kids were up to. All of their happy faces were a joy he was too stressed to have.

Brooke didn’t help with that, knowing full well the shit pit he was referring to. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but, ugh!” A pregnancy pain shot through her middle, faltering her in an instant. Garrett tried consolation with more caressing, but she waved it off before resuming her admission. “But… w-we can’t cancel anything with Them on us, can we?”

Them. Them with a capital T. There were many, preferably unnamed souls that always made Garrett groan, and this time was no different. However, They meant something more than the rest, especially now.

They had Hailey.

They had Hailey, but her parents were going to make sure that wasn’t going to be forever. Through the passes and the parties, parenting would still prevail under some light for their Rosebud to bloom. So, the couple wasted no more time, bypassing the kids for the time being to get to the shed.

Its door creaked as loudly as the sirens in their heads. A worrisome Addy called out to them at the sound, but all it took were a bright, false smile sent back by Brooke and some knowledgeable assurance from the nearby Tuck to bring her close to him and out of their hair like nothing happened. A held-in breath was then released from Brooke’s lungs, thankful to not have the baby girl’s attention anywhere around what the adults were about to do.

#my writing #dolled up and underdressed #it begins!#g/t

0 notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

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How Far I'll Go - Chapter 1 (Nina West/Monet X Change) - Meggie, Mia Ugly

A/N: Nina West gets the redemptive musical love story he deserves.

Chapter 1 - chase anything that glitters

The finale is over, and Nina West is drinking alone.

Well not - alone alone. Clearly. He’s in a bar that’s packed to standing room only with queens from all the seasons, as well as the World of Wonder and VH1 employees that managed to get tickets. The after-party and the after-after-party have been going strong for hours, and Nina has been bubbly and humble and as charming as he possibly can be after spending this long in a corset. (He has a bit of a meltdown when he meets Latrice but that was a long time coming. Like ten literal years in the making.)

But eventually the day catches up with him, and the constant smile starts to crack like a windshield, and Nina finds himself sitting at the bar alone. Which is okay. He’s exhausted, and the arches of his feet ache, and if he has to answer one more question about Branjie he might clench his teeth so hard he cracks a molar.

So he may not be alone alone, but he’s alone in a way he can feel (in his hands, his ribs, his heart).

Even then, he’s not alone for long.

“Hey there, Miss Congeniality.” Monet X Change slides up to him at the bar, looking like he was dipped in honey. “Werk. Congratulations girl.”

“Thank you.” Nina would ordinarily be beyond intimidated to meet the latest AllStars winner, a dream of his ever since Monet was crowned. But tonight, after the finale and the hours of making small-talk, Nina’s feeling so much that there’s no room beneath his skin for anything else. His whole body is vibrating. “You look fantastic.”

“You too. Giving me paper doll realness, honey. And I am living for this colour.” Monet’s smile is a bit soft around the edges, and there’s a glass of champagne in his hand. He sings a line from that Janelle Monae song Nina loves: “Pink like the holes in your heart… So how you feeling?”

“Good,” Nina says, even though that word does not come close to the truth of it. “Great. It’s been such an honour -”

“Listen to you, all congenial. Miss me with those sound-bites, girl. How you really feeling?”

“Nina - we’re taking off,” A’Keria interrupts before Nina can answer, hand resting gently on Nina’s shoulder. Slightly behind him stands Vanjie, arms crossed protectively around himself. He’s smiling at Nina, but it doesn’t quite match his eyes.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep,” Vanjie mutters. “Plus I ain’t see no trade in here - present company excepted, course.”

He comes forward to kiss Nina on both cheeks. “Tell your girl not to go home with no serial killers.”

Vanjie nods toward the far corner of of the crowded bar, and he and A’Keria walk off to where Silky is waiting for them by the doors. When Nina follows the direction of Vanjie’s nod, he sees Brooke with a cocktail in his hand, close-talking with a lumberjack-looking hipster that Nina doesn’t recognize.

Shit. Poor Vanjie.

It’s one thing to be cool with each other, to be friends. It’s another thing entirely to watch Brooke move on.

Nina winces out a smile. His heart aches for Vanessa. His heart aches for absolutely no other reason.

When Nina turns back to Monet, the other queen is watching him closely, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“What? Oh! Them? Yeah, too bad it didn’t work out. They were basically adorable and the fans -”

“Nah, nah, not that.” Monet finishes his champagne. “What’s your deal with, uh - tall, blonde and emotionally constipated over there? You and Brooke weren’t ever -”

“God, no. No. Not like - that.” People that look like me don’t end up with people that look like him, he hears a voice in the back of his mind whisper. He hates that voice, paper soft and sinister. He’s heard it before, thought he’d kicked it to the curb and left it behind after his college days, but it followed along in his shadow. (Sometimes Nina feels like no matter how far he’s come, there are stories that travel with him.) “We like - once.”

“Once? Once what? I fucking knew it by the way.”

“Just kissed. Messed around. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Monet snags two new glasses of champagne from a passing server. He puts one down in front of Nina, and drains half of the other in one swallow. “I see you, girl. You might be pretty in pink but those shoulders don’t lie. All slumped over.”

Deny, deny, deny. That was Nina’s first rule. The whole Brooke thing was years ago, anyway, and that particular wound has long scarred over. Maybe there was a moment on that first day of Drag Race where Nina thought that this was some sort of sign (he does that sometimes, forgets that this is real life and not a romantic comedy or Disney film) but - it’s in the past.

“We’re friends,” Nina says simply.

“Great,” Monet says in a tone that clearly states he doesn’t believe a word Nina is saying. “Well then. Tequila?”

They end up shutting down the bar. That’s not something Nina does often - or, like, ever. When he’s at the club he is at work, he is fundraising, or shaking hands and making connections, or getting petitions signed, forcing all the trendy apolitical gays to give a damn about something.

He is not sitting with queens in sunshine-yellow dresses, ignoring the rest of the world while getting slowly wasted on tequila and laughing so hard his makeup runs.

Monet is fucking funny. Nina knew he was funny, loved him on both seasons, but it’s different up close. When Monet starts reading the queens in the room Maya Angelou-style, Nina almost falls off his stool.

At some point Brooke and whoever he’s going home with come to say goodbye (Brooke wraps his arms around Nina, says “I love you, love you, love you,” three times against his jaw). Nina can smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, the whisky on his mouth.

“Love you too,” Nina says, only a little bit worried.

As Brooke drags his skinny lumberjack away, Nina hears him slur something that sounds like “gotta find Vanjie before we leave.” That’s going to be a long and fruitless search, but Nina leaves him to it. He watches the pair go (pretends that he isn’t).

It may be an old scar, but old scars still ache from time to time. This one does. Smarts. Worms its way into Nina’s heart like tendrils, squeezes tight, compresses. He knows it’s platonic love he and Brooke share, but there was a time, before Vanjie but during Drag Race when maybe for a minute he thought— Stop.

If Vanessa Vanjie Matteo wasn’t good enough for Brooke, then the rest of the world hasn’t got a hope in hell.

“What are you doing after this, Nina West?”

All thoughts of Brooke aside (still rolling just under the surface), Nina likes the way Monet says his first and last name together. He likes that kitty-cat wig with the finger waves that Monet is wearing, looking like Clara Bow in some black and white film. He likes a lot of things right now, but unlike Brooke, Nina is drunk.

“What am I doing? Back to Columbus for a bit. Hosting a finale party and then… and then. Then the tour! Yes, that.”

“Did you just forget about your own tour?” Monet laughs, low and delighted. “Girl, you’re in trouble.”

“So much trouble,” Nina confides, reaching out to put a hand on Monet’s arm. “Just - scads of it.”

“‘Scads?’” Monet laughs again, “You age one-hundred years every time you drink?”

“Every time!”

Monet shakes his head, rolling his eyes a bit (but not in a mean way. In kind of a charming way. Nina likes a lot of things right now.)

“I didn’t mean after the show is over. I meant - like tonight. What are you doing after this?”

“Oh.” Nina blinks. This can’t be - “Oh.”

“You want to get out of here?” Monet is watching him with dark-lidded eyes, no laughter on his face any more. His lips part, and Nina stares at his purple lipstick and thinks yes and then a beat later please. Because he is a gentleman.

“I’m drunk,” Nina says in the spirit of full disclosure.

“You think I’ve got some miracle liver? Me too. I’m fine with it if you are.”

“Okay.” If they’re both drunk it’s fine. As long as they - talk about it first. It’s fine. “Um. Okay.” Nina realizes he hasn’t moved his hand off of Monet’s arm. Now that he notices, it’s all he can think about.

How does someone do this? Should they leave at the same time? Separate times? The lights in the bar are coming on, and the last few stragglers are starting to go. Most of the girls from Season 11 have already left, God knows how long ago. Nina didn’t even notice.

“I’m in room 1518,” Monet thankfully interrupts Nina’s panic. “You should come by.” He moves his arm out from underneath Nina’s fingertips, and Nina instantly misses the warmth of his skin. Monet grabs his clutch, weaves out of the bar without a backwards glance, and Nina takes a few moments to jump headfirst back into that panic spiral.

He hasn’t done something like this in - a very long time. He isn’t really a casual sex kind of person. He won’t say no to it, obviously, but - it’s been awhile.

He’s been busy.

Come on, girl, he tells himself, just act like people proposition you in bars everyday. Just act like this is a totally normal thing that you do, because you are a normal person.

Nina waits and panics for another ten minutes, before he gets up from his stool like a normal person would. He casually, elegantly (not at all unsteady on his heels) leaves the bar. Normally. He takes the elevator alone, in silence, to the fifteenth floor.

His knock on room 1518 is so hesitant that it’s basically inaudible. No one hears it and he’s forced to knock again. He waits in the brightly lit hallway, feeling like a football player in pink, until the door opens.

Monet’s holding a makeup wipe, and his face is shining, paint off. He’s changed out of his dress, taken off his padding. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Nina immediately feels like an idiot.

“Oh,” Monet says, “You’re still in - all that.”

Shit. Fuck. “I - yes. Sorry. I should have -”

“No, I -” Monet takes a step closer. “Told you I was living for that colour.”

Then he puts his hands on either side of Nina’s face and kisses him.

It’s a good kiss. Warm and tasting a bit like mint (Monet must have brushed his teeth). Monet’s lips are soft and gentle, grasping Nina’s own as if he doesn’t mind the taste of tequila and anxiety. He doesn’t make any attempt to deepen things - keeps the kiss sweet, keeps his hands on Nina’s face. His hands are warm too.

“You wanna come in?” Monet asks when he pulls back, and Nina has forgotten how to make words happen. So he just nods. Lets Monet pull him forward gently, close the door behind him.

They start kissing again right away, just standing there in the middle of the room. Nina loses himself a bit in it, closes his eyes and lets the tequila do the thinking for him. He sucks Monet’s tongue into his mouth and Monet lets out a soft gasp that - yeah, that’ll work. Now that tongues are involved, the kissing gets harder, nothing tentative about it. Teeth pull on Nina’s lower lip, the edge of his jaw, tease their way down his neck. It’s good. It feels good, and he has to bite his mouth shut to stop himself from saying as much out loud.

Monet pulls away suddenly, and Nina just stares at him. He wobbles slightly, and steps out of his heels before he falls down.

“You’re probably still all - strapped in, hey?” Monet’s eyes are a bit unfocused, moving over Nina’s face. “Do you want to change? Take your paint off? I should have asked.”

Nina feels like an idiot again. Why the hell didn’t he go to his room first?

“Thanks. I’ll just -” He gestures to the bathroom, and Monet gives him a look.

“I’ve seen it all, girl. Let me get your zipper for you.”

Nina’s lips sting and his heart is racing. Getting out of drag in front of someone kind of kills the mystery. Not that Nina feels his body is any great piece of artwork to be slowly revealed but it’s not really a sexy process. Maybe it’s different when you look like Aquaria or Yvie or something but - Nina’s album is called “Drag is Magic” for a reason.

Despite all of this (blame the tequila just - always, for everything) he turns around.

Moves his wig to the side so that Monet can slide the zipper of his dress down his spine. It makes goosebumps break out all over Nina’s arms, and the dress falls to the floor. When Nina turns back around to pick it up, Monet is still standing there, a bit closer than before. They look at each other. Monet reaches forward to take off each of Nina’s massive crystal earrings, putting them carefully on the nightstand.

Nina just - stands there. Stands there as Monet unhooks his cincher, rolls his hip-pads down his legs, takes his tights along with them. Stands there as Monet drops to his knees in front of Nina, gently pulling down his underwear.

The dress was loose enough the Nina didn’t need to tape anything or do much of a tuck, and he’s fucking grateful for that. Still, as he glances down at himself, he sees a body covered with angry red lines, places where shapewear dug into his skin, all the illusion of his silhouette stripped away.

“You’re so hot,” Monet murmurs and Nina cannot hear that sort of thing right now, is totally not ready for it.

“Thanks?” he says and Monet breathes a laugh against his thigh before dragging his tongue across Nina’s hip.

“This okay?”

Nina nods, can’t speak. He’s harder than he thought he could be after the amount he had to drink, and Monet’s hands (tracing up his thighs, moving between his legs) are so warm, and strong, and soft. When Monet bends forward and sucks him into his mouth, Nina gasps, back arching as he tries not to come immediately. Everything is impossibly tight and wet, and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to remain upright. He puts an unsteady hand on Monet’s shoulder, and Monet reaches up, moves Nina’s hand to the back of his head. There’s stubble under Nina’s fingertips, and the soft sounds of Monet swallowing around him fill the room (along with Nina’s own frantic breathing).

“You taste fucking amazing,” Monet murmurs, dragging his tongue up the length of him and moaning. “Christ, I - bed, the bed, please -”

Nina stumbles backwards, falling onto the scratchy hotel comforter in a graceless sprawl. Monet is pulling off his shirt one-handed and then quickly climbing on top of him. His hand is on Nina’s cock and he’s grinding his hips into Nina’s thigh, and he’s kissing him again, hard and deep, like he’s starving. Nina can’t remember being with anyone who wanted to kiss him this much. It’s intoxicating, makes him feel something - he can’t put a label to it but it takes up too much room inside his chest.

“Can you just -” Monet bites out against Nina’s lips, and Nina pushes his hand past the waistband of Monet’s sweats, finds his cock hard and wet against his palm. Monet makes such a delicious noise at the first stroke of Nina’s hand that Nina can’t be blamed for the sounds he makes in response.

It goes like this for awhile, the two of them fucking each other’s fists and breathing into each other’s mouths. It’s quiet in the room except for cut-off moans and huffs of breath, and Nina lets his body take the lead in this, lets himself move and feel without thinking about it (tequila is a godsend).

When Monet comes it is nearly silent, just a stutter in his breath and a few sharp jerks of his hips and Nina’s hand is suddenly wet and trembling. It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to him in - in a long time - and he buries his face in Monet’s neck, goes somewhere else for an orgasm (“okay - okay - Oh fuck -”) that lasts longer than he expects it to, almost on the edge of too much.

Breathe.

In. Out.

“Fuck me up, Nina West,” Monet says against his neck, with a low gorgeous sigh. Nina lies back against the pillows, and realizes that Monet’s mouth is smeared with pink lipstick. It makes him huff out a tipsy laugh, which makes Monet smile with his eyes closed.

“Did you know you’re still in your wig?”

Oh my fucking God.

Nina is - still IN HIS WIG. His fucking bubblegum pink wig. He doesn’t know how to react to this knowledge, so he makes a mortifying sound that might be a laugh and might be a cough and might be someone choking.

It’s okay (he thinks) because Monet laughs too, covering his face with his hands, hiding that gorgeous smile. When Monet’s recovered himself, he leans over and starts to take the pins out of Nina’s hair, and Nina blushes for God knows what reason. As the wig slides off his head, Monet kisses him right above the pulse point in his jaw.

Things get foggy after that. The room is spinning slightly, and Nina isn’t sure whether that’s exhaustion or alcohol or the absolutely boneless and beautiful feeling that follows excellent sex. He thinks he hears fireworks going off outside, but when he cranes his head towards the window, expecting a shower of fiery glitter, the sky is dark.

Nina closes his eyes for a moment, thirty seconds tops. When he opens them again the sky has gone from black to misty blue, and Monet’s mouth is between his legs.

“Oh my God, you’re -”

Nina stays awake just long enough to come down Monet’s throat and then suck the taste off Monet’s tongue as they make out messily afterwards. At some point Monet loses the rest of his clothing, and the silk of his skin against Nina’s is utterly unfair - how could anyone possibly live through this? How do people ever get out of bed if Monet is in bed with them? The pressure of Monet’s mouth is something criminal; Nina feels like he could kiss him for hours. Maybe he already has been; time is all messed up in this hotel room, unravelled like bad knitting (just ask Nina’s gran, she’ll tell you about it).

He falls back asleep with Monet’s face pressed against his collarbone, murmuring nonsense to his skin. Nina tells himself in five minutes he’ll get up, gather his clothing, and go. It’s not dawn yet, five minutes won’t hurt.

“Yousmellnice.” Monet’s words are slurred together and soft, mouth damp on Nina’s skin, and Nina only closes his eyes for five minutes.

He wakes with a pounding headache and a sense of regret that he’s pretty sure is caused by more than just the copious amounts of tequila he drank last night. And this bed… Is not his own, he’s pretty sure, at least not the hotel bed he’s been in for the last two nights while they got ready for the finale and the reunion and-

Oh.

An arm wraps around his waist, tightens around his midsection, pulls him close. Beside him, Monet sighs.

Monet.

Shit. Fuck. Jesus. God.

The night returns to him in flashes: Monet’s hands soft on his stomach, back, and thighs; Monet’s lips ghosting over his own, teeth against his lip and hip and-

Nina squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up in his own bed, in his own room, even back in Columbus surrounded by dogs and not a man would be preferable at this exact moment because this cannot have happened.

Casual sex with random trade in bars is okay. It’s - different - like he said before, and it’s been awhile. But he feels things too deeply, gets too attached - for it to be the norm. One kiss and he’s ready to tattoo their names on his goddamn wrist. (Hyperbolically speaking. Mostly. Except for that one time. But it was college and he was much younger, and thank God it had just been Sharpie.)

But this is… This is less than good. Monet is a Ru girl. A winner. A fellow Miss Congeniality, and one of Nina’s favorites and this… This is bad. (Potentially.) Probably. He’s almost sure. So he was feeling some kind of way about Brooke because of something that happened a gazillion years ago (and wasn’t going to turn into anything anyway, Nina, Jesus) and Monet had been there, golden yellow and luscious in those finger waves and that slit so high it should have been against the law, and he’d… Taken advantage of the situation. Too much tequila, not enough common sense. Isn’t that how every bad decision starts?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and expels it in a long, measured stream through his pursed lips because his heart is speeding up, and it won’t be long before he starts spiraling again.

And another. In. Out.

Another. In. Out.

“Hey.”

Nina’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of Monet’s voice and he coughs a little. Very cool. Very how you want your Drag Race-winning hook up to see you first thing in the morning. He prays he had the sense to take all his makeup off before… Whatever.

“Hello,” Nina says cautiously, like the situation isn’t real, ceases to exist if they just don’t acknowledge it. He grips the sheet tightly to his chest.

Monet chuckles, low and deep, sends rumbles through the mattress. Then he turns over and presses his glasses to his face, peering at the clock on the nightstand.

“Shit, girl,” he mutters, sliding the spectacles over his nose. “It’s noon. We already missed breakfast.”

Then Monet is out of bed, perfect ass on full display in front of Nina - and even bleary-eyed and hungover he can appreciate that - but he closes his eyes tightly. (He still sneaks two or five more peeks while Monet gets dressed, if he’s being honest.) It’s not going to happen again - can’t happen again - and he wants to remember it. Only so he can fully regret it later. He went to Catholic school after all. He’s very used to metaphorical self-flagellation. Yeah. It’s very that.

Monet steps into the bathroom, and Nina takes the opportunity to fully assess his clothing situation. He’d come in drag, which meant he has to leave in drag, which is not… Ideal. Because a hotel at noon on a Tuesday afternoon is going to be far more bustling than a hotel at five on a Tuesday morning, and he looks a lot different as Andrew in a dress than he does as Nina in full drag.

He drags a hand across his face and his palm comes away streaked with black. Fantastic. All this and he’d managed to sleep in his makeup.

So. He figures this is the bed he’s made and now he has to lie in it. If his room weren’t all the way down on the fifth floor, he’d just take the stairs. He’s far more likely to run into people on the elevator than on the stairs.

“You wanna grab lunch?” Monet asks him, toothbrush in hand, working back and forth across his impeccable teeth, white foam at the corner of his perfect mouth.

Everything about Monet is perfect. Which is half of why Nina can’t figure out (or believe) last night. It just doesn’t - work that way for him.

People like Monet (and Brooke, that nasty little voice in the back of his head reminds him) can have anyone they want. So why did Monet choose you, Nina West? Why Nina West? Fifth-runner up, pushing 40, pudgy, soft-spoken. He could have left with anyone last night and yet here you are. When does the other shoe drop?

“Look, I don’t know where you went just now,” Monet says after rinsing his mouth. “But no pressure. I just figure we both gotta eat and I know a place.” He shrugs.

If this had been - something other than what it had been - Nina would think this was a date. But it wasn’t. Because it was… Whatever it had been. He’s still not really sure of that. The tequila’s still making everything a little fuzzy. It’s not a date. Monet’s tone is too casual, too easy.

And people like him don’t date people like you.

“Um, sure,” he says before he can stop himself. Because he meant to say no. He was going to say no. Why didn’t he say no? Because he wanted to say yes, damn it. “But I should probably…” He gestures between the pile of pink on the floor and his face.

“Right!” Monet laughs, and Nina thinks he almost hears a hint of nerves in it. Like maybe this is awkward for him too. “Yeah, probably not the best idea to go out in day drag and last night’s makeup. Not the most comfortable…” Monet runs a hand over his bald head and sighs.

Oh, it’s awkward. Lovely. “Well.” Nina’s sitting up, still clutching the sheet to his chest, waiting, but for what he isn’t sure. It’s not like Monet hasn’t seen him intimately, so why is he acting like a fourteen-year-old undressing in gym class for the first time?

“I think I’m going to shower.” Monet points over his shoulder to the bathroom. “What room are you in? I’ll just come down and meet you.”

Nina nods, grateful. “Five-oh-nine.”

“Great.” Monet smiles and it looks genuine. The light reaches his eyes, his shoulders relax a little. “I’ll, um… Thirty minutes?”

“Sure.”

Then Monet waves a little and disappears into the bathroom, and Nina bolts out of bed and pulls on that damn pink dress faster than he thought possible. He grabs his wig in one hand and his heels in the other and takes off out the door. The whole thing probably takes less than a minute, and his dress isn’t zipped; but honestly he couldn’t care less. All he wants to do is get in the shower and scrub his body raw of the regret and shame and scent of tequila coming from his pores.

Monet’s room isn’t too far from the elevator - thankfully - and Nina jabs the button approximately eight times, even though he knows it won’t help anything. It makes him feel better.

The doors finally slide open and Nina wants to die. Prays for a chasm to open where the tiny slit between elevator and wall is so he can just step into it and bid his painful existence farewell. Because lined up along the back of the elevator, is the entire cast of the Dream Girls: Vanjie, A’Keria and Silky. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Vanjie’s texting frantically on his phone but his mouth gapes open as Nina steps into the elevator. The doors slide closed with a soft whoosh and Nina faces forward instantly, does his best impression of someone that doesn’t exist.

“Hello there, Miss Nina!” Silky is much too loud, and much too cheerful for the throbbing in Nina’s head. “Ain’t you looking well-rested this morning?”

Nina gives him a small, awkward salute over his shoulder, but can’t make himself turn around. Maybe the cable will snap, that would be okay. Death, at this point, would be a welcome distraction from the heat in Nina’s cheeks and embarrassment roiling in his stomach. Or maybe that’s the tequila again. Yeah, that’s the motto. Blame the tequila - for everything.

“We were going to lunch,” Vanjie says gently, “if you want to come.”

“You can shower first, we’ll wait,” Silky continues, “Gotta get that stank off you. We’ve all been there, walking back down to the room after getting some trade in the hotel—”

“Silk,” Vanjie hisses under his breath.

Nina just shakes his head and tries to focus on the numbers ticking by. “No, thanks,” he says as the numbers land on five and the doors slide open. “I think I’ll just order in.”

He’s out of the doors and feeling like he’s over the worst of it, when Silky’s parting comment hits him right between the shoulder blades.

“You walking funny, Miss Nina?” Silky whistles after him. “Must have got that good D.”

And that’s when Nina decides that he absolutely, positively cannot go to lunch with Monet. It can’t be done. Can’t happen. Cannot continue.

Whatever happened between them last night was fueled by alcohol and angst and they have to leave it there in the hotel. He makes his mind up definitively as he scrubs at his face under the shower spray.

If they’re going to work together (which Nina very much hopes they will because Monet is amazing - might be one of the funniest people Nina’s ever met, actually, as well as a brilliant musician and - and anyway that’s enough) they have to forget about last night.

So he will. And that starts with not going to lunch.

When Monet knocks on his door and calls his name, Nina doesn’t answer. It isn’t the most mature way to handle the situation, but he isn’t feeling incredibly mature in that moment. So he remains silent for the entire five minutes that Monet stands at his door (heart beating like a snare drum in his throat, shame burning across his cheekbones.)

Later, when he steps out in the hall to collect his room service (because he does have to eat, Monet wasn’t wrong), Nina finds his jewelry atop his neatly folded shape wear just outside his door. Monet’s phone number is printed neatly on a square of hotel stationery, speared through one of his earrings so it can’t get lost.

And maybe, Nina thinks later as he enters the digits into his phone illustrated with the yellow-heart emoji (so what if he’s sentimental?), he wishes he had been just a little more mature.

Or a little more brave.

He blames the tequila.

47 notes · View notes

chocolate-brownies · 5 years

Text

How to Step Into Your Feminine Power with the Wisdom of the Dakinis

How to Step Into Your Feminine Power with the Wisdom of the Dakinis:

Lama Tsultrim Allione—one of the first American woman ordained as a Tibetan Buddhist nun— shares what she’s learned about love, life, and liberty while researching dakinis, or fierce female messengers of wisdom.

Read the stories of the Dakini—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism to tap into your feminine power.

See also This 7-Pose Home Practice Harnesses the Power of Touch

See also Relieve Anxiety with a Simple 30-Second Practice

The Buddhist stupa of Swayambhu in the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal.

The Dakini Spirit

At some point in my search, the realization came to me: I have to find them myself. I have to find their stories. I needed to research the life stories of the Buddhist women of the past and see if I could discover some thread, some key that would help unlock the answers about the dakinis and guide me through this passage. If I could find the dakinis, I would find my spiritual role models—I could see how they did it. I could see how they made the connections between mother, wife, and woman … how they integrated spirituality with everyday life challenges.

See also 10 Best Women-Only Yoga Retreats Around the World

He looked at me and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say any more.

He thought about it for a while; again, he simply answered, “Yes.”

See also 7 Things I Learned About Women from Doing Yoga

Learn how to step into your feminine power.

Coming Out of the Dark

See also Tantra Rising

See also Tantric Breathing Practice to Merge Shiva and Shakti and Achieve Oneness

See also Tap the Power of Tantra: A Sequence for Self-Trust

Dakini Symbols

See also Decoding Sutra 2.16: Prevent Future Pain from Manifesting

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

0 notes

krisiunicornio · 5 years

Link

Read the stories of the Dakini—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism to tap into your feminine power.

See also This 7-Pose Home Practice Harnesses the Power of Touch

See also Relieve Anxiety with a Simple 30-Second Practice

The Buddhist stupa of Swayambhu in the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal.

The Dakini Spirit

See also 10 Best Women-Only Yoga Retreats Around the World

He looked at me and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say any more.

He thought about it for a while; again, he simply answered, “Yes.”

See also 7 Things I Learned About Women from Doing Yoga

Learn how to step into your feminine power.

Coming Out of the Dark

See also Tantra Rising

See also Tantric Breathing Practice to Merge Shiva and Shakti and Achieve Oneness

See also Tap the Power of Tantra: A Sequence for Self-Trust

Dakini Symbols

See also Decoding Sutra 2.16: Prevent Future Pain from Manifesting

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

0 notes

cedarrrun · 5 years

Link

Read the stories of the Dakini—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism to tap into your feminine power.

See also This 7-Pose Home Practice Harnesses the Power of Touch

See also Relieve Anxiety with a Simple 30-Second Practice

The Buddhist stupa of Swayambhu in the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal.

The Dakini Spirit

See also 10 Best Women-Only Yoga Retreats Around the World

He looked at me and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say any more.

He thought about it for a while; again, he simply answered, “Yes.”

See also 7 Things I Learned About Women from Doing Yoga

Learn how to step into your feminine power.

Coming Out of the Dark

See also Tantra Rising

See also Tantric Breathing Practice to Merge Shiva and Shakti and Achieve Oneness

See also Tap the Power of Tantra: A Sequence for Self-Trust

Dakini Symbols

See also Decoding Sutra 2.16: Prevent Future Pain from Manifesting

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

0 notes

amyddaniels · 5 years

Text

How to Step Into Your Feminine Power with the Wisdom of the Dakinis

Read the stories of the Dakini—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism to tap into your feminine power.

See also This 7-Pose Home Practice Harnesses the Power of Touch

See also Relieve Anxiety with a Simple 30-Second Practice

The Buddhist stupa of Swayambhu in the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal.

The Dakini Spirit

See also 10 Best Women-Only Yoga Retreats Around the World

He looked at me and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say any more.

He thought about it for a while; again, he simply answered, “Yes.”

See also 7 Things I Learned About Women from Doing Yoga

Learn how to step into your feminine power.

Coming Out of the Dark

See also Tantra Rising

See also Tantric Breathing Practice to Merge Shiva and Shakti and Achieve Oneness

See also Tap the Power of Tantra: A Sequence for Self-Trust

Dakini Symbols

See also Decoding Sutra 2.16: Prevent Future Pain from Manifesting

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

0 notes

remedialmassage · 5 years

Text

How to Step Into Your Feminine Power with the Wisdom of the Dakinis

Read the stories of the Dakini—fierce female messengers of wisdom in Tibetan Buddhism to tap into your feminine power.

See also This 7-Pose Home Practice Harnesses the Power of Touch

See also Relieve Anxiety with a Simple 30-Second Practice

The Buddhist stupa of Swayambhu in the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal.

The Dakini Spirit

See also 10 Best Women-Only Yoga Retreats Around the World

He looked at me and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say any more.

He thought about it for a while; again, he simply answered, “Yes.”

See also 7 Things I Learned About Women from Doing Yoga

Learn how to step into your feminine power.

Coming Out of the Dark

See also Tantra Rising

See also Tantric Breathing Practice to Merge Shiva and Shakti and Achieve Oneness

See also Tap the Power of Tantra: A Sequence for Self-Trust

Dakini Symbols

See also Decoding Sutra 2.16: Prevent Future Pain from Manifesting

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Excerpted from Wisdom Rising: Journey into the Mandala of the Empowered Feminine by Lama Tsultrim Allione. Enliven Books, May 2018. Reprinted with permission.

from Yoga Journal http://bit.ly/2C62lTc

#Yoga Journal

0 notes

valdesfraost · 7 years

Text

Brooks Addiction Walker Review: Most Comfortable Shoe

We often associate chronic or inhibiting pain to problems associated with our backs and necks, and think more about treating our resulting headaches, backaches, and muscle pain with massage, physical therapy, medical and chiropractic care.

And these things are all important and worthy of our attention and diligence. Our feet, however, are not getting the attention and care they should be.

A recent study conducted by the American Podiatric Medical Association found that 77 percent of Americans suffer from foot pain, but only a third would be willing to seek care from a podiatrist.

Foot pain, whether it’s in the heel, toes, or arches or the result of arthritis, can simply be the result of excessive standing, working long hours on a job that demands you’re on your feet all or most of the day, or just the unfortunate luck (or lack thereof) of the draw (in other words: genes).

Foot pain can have a dramatic impact on your life, as it often restricts what you can or feel well enough to do. That means you stop doing things that are important to your health and wellbeing.

Things like walking, working, and enjoying time with kids and grand-kids. You don’t have to worry about extreme measures for treating foot pain, however.

Sometimes it’s a serious matter, and you should absolutely seek medical attention.

Most of the time, though, a small thing can literally change your life, such as best tennis shoes for standing all day.

Change your footwear, get yourself into the right pair and you’ll be amazed at the positive impact it will have on the quality of your life and cessation of pain.

Why Addiction Walker?

Physicians and physical therapists recommended

For starters, it’s always among the top-rated and most highly recommended shoes among podiatrists. If you suffer from plantar fasciitis, low arches (or just need added support), arthritis, or foot pain, a specialist, or even well trained shoe professional, will almost suggest you try this shoe first.

Well built

They’re designed and built by the people behind Brooks running shoes.

You might think of this first, since Brooks is one of the absolute best running shoes you can buy. And then you might think, I’m not a runner; I just need a good walking or work shoe that’s going to give me comfort and support. That’s the beauty of this shoe. You get the technology behind the running shoe, in a casual shoe that looks great, and you can wear anywhere.

Comfort and quality

The midsole is built to last. Brooks calls their midsole tech the “BioMoGo,” and it’s not only designed to last a long time, it delivers the utmost in comfort, cushioning, and arch support. The leather upper is high quality, full grain, and the soles resist slipping.

Pros:

You won’t complain about the feel. These are probably among the most comfortable shoes you will ever wear. They’re fully cushioned and padded, with maximum arch support. They’re well made and will last many years.

They look great and are incredibly versatile. Your feet will feel like they’re practically wearing a prescription, but no one will ever know, and you can dress them up or down. They have excellent motion control, and if you prefer velcro straps to laces, you have that option.

Each shoe is handmade, so you’re getting your money’s worth with this pick. And they’re especially good for those with particular feet problems–collapsed arches, flat feet, or over pronation (rolling out as you step). They also come in four different widths as opposed to the more standard two or three, so they will most definitely fit your foot perfectly, no matter what your size and width.

Cons:

One downside is price. If you’re on a budget, these will be something to save for. They aren’t cheap, as you’ll pay a little under two hundred and fifty dollars for them, but it’s investment in your health that will last a long time and provide a more productive, healthy, and happy life.

If you have wide feet or suffer from arthritis or any other foot affliction, check out both the standard and wide widths before purchasing.

They come in brown, black, or white, so if you’re looking for flare, your choices are a bit limited on the color front.

They also have a bit of rugged look and might tend toward those who prefer bulkier, more outdoorsy looking footwear.

Finally, they’re a bit on the heavy side compared to say a mesh running shoe, but what you pay for in weight, you get back in comfort and durability tenfold.

Quick Brooks Addiction Walker Review (video):

[su_youtube_advanced url=“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYKxUn9tE9M” width=“720” controls=“no” showinfo=“no” rel=“no” fs=“no”]

Comparison to New Balance 928

If you’re looking to spend a little less money but still want great support and comfort, check out the New Balance 928 walking shoe. You’ll save yourself about a hundred dollars, and you’ll get a lot of the same great benefits.

The energy is focused on stability and motion control. Your foot will be fully supported and held in New Balance’s “ABZORB” cushioning, and you’ll be kept from turning your ankle by the “ROLLBAR” stability technology. They design the outsole so that works to help stabilize and guide the foot through each stride of the gait.

The footbeds are removable in the event you want to add orthotics or arch supports, and they’re made of high quality leather uppers and have a rubber outsole.

Whether you’re on your feet all day at work–standing or doing a lot of walking; you are active in your everyday life; you suffer foot pain, or just want to stave it off, you would be wise to choose the Addiction Walker, it is most comfortable shoes for work.

And if cost is of the utmost importance, a great runner-up is the New Balance 928.

There’s one thing that all podiatrists agree on, and that is having a high quality pair of walking shoes can help prevent against diseases like arthritis and lead to a much higher quality of life.

It’s critical for the life of your feet, as well as your joints, hips, and back that your arches are fully supported and cushioned, that you protect against rolling and twisting, and that you have good traction and stability control.

Either of these choices will deliver.

Brooks Addiction Walker Review: Most Comfortable Shoe published first on https://ivoamatheis.tumblr.com

0 notes

ivoamatheis · 7 years

Text

Brooks Addiction Walker Review: Most Comfortable Shoe

And these things are all important and worthy of our attention and diligence. Our feet, however, are not getting the attention and care they should be.

A recent study conducted by the American Podiatric Medical Association found that 77 percent of Americans suffer from foot pain, but only a third would be willing to seek care from a podiatrist.

Foot pain, whether it's in the heel, toes, or arches or the result of arthritis, can simply be the result of excessive standing, working long hours on a job that demands you're on your feet all or most of the day, or just the unfortunate luck (or lack thereof) of the draw (in other words: genes).

Foot pain can have a dramatic impact on your life, as it often restricts what you can or feel well enough to do. That means you stop doing things that are important to your health and wellbeing.

Things like walking, working, and enjoying time with kids and grand-kids. You don't have to worry about extreme measures for treating foot pain, however.

Sometimes it's a serious matter, and you should absolutely seek medical attention.

Most of the time, though, a small thing can literally change your life, such as best tennis shoes for standing all day.

Change your footwear, get yourself into the right pair and you'll be amazed at the positive impact it will have on the quality of your life and cessation of pain.

Why Addiction Walker?

Physicians and physical therapists recommended

For starters, it's always among the top-rated and most highly recommended shoes among podiatrists. If you suffer from plantar fasciitis, low arches (or just need added support), arthritis, or foot pain, a specialist, or even well trained shoe professional, will almost suggest you try this shoe first.

Well built

They're designed and built by the people behind Brooks running shoes.

You might think of this first, since Brooks is one of the absolute best running shoes you can buy. And then you might think, I'm not a runner; I just need a good walking or work shoe that's going to give me comfort and support. That's the beauty of this shoe. You get the technology behind the running shoe, in a casual shoe that looks great, and you can wear anywhere.

Comfort and quality

The midsole is built to last. Brooks calls their midsole tech the "BioMoGo," and it's not only designed to last a long time, it delivers the utmost in comfort, cushioning, and arch support. The leather upper is high quality, full grain, and the soles resist slipping.

Pros:

You won't complain about the feel. These are probably among the most comfortable shoes you will ever wear. They're fully cushioned and padded, with maximum arch support. They're well made and will last many years.

They look great and are incredibly versatile. Your feet will feel like they're practically wearing a prescription, but no one will ever know, and you can dress them up or down. They have excellent motion control, and if you prefer velcro straps to laces, you have that option.

Each shoe is handmade, so you're getting your money's worth with this pick. And they're especially good for those with particular feet problems--collapsed arches, flat feet, or over pronation (rolling out as you step). They also come in four different widths as opposed to the more standard two or three, so they will most definitely fit your foot perfectly, no matter what your size and width.

Cons:

One downside is price. If you're on a budget, these will be something to save for. They aren't cheap, as you'll pay a little under two hundred and fifty dollars for them, but it's investment in your health that will last a long time and provide a more productive, healthy, and happy life.

If you have wide feet or suffer from arthritis or any other foot affliction, check out both the standard and wide widths before purchasing.

They come in brown, black, or white, so if you're looking for flare, your choices are a bit limited on the color front.

They also have a bit of rugged look and might tend toward those who prefer bulkier, more outdoorsy looking footwear.

Finally, they're a bit on the heavy side compared to say a mesh running shoe, but what you pay for in weight, you get back in comfort and durability tenfold.

Quick Brooks Addiction Walker Review (video):

[su_youtube_advanced url="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYKxUn9tE9M" width="720" controls="no" showinfo="no" rel="no" fs="no"]

Comparison to New Balance 928

If you're looking to spend a little less money but still want great support and comfort, check out the New Balance 928 walking shoe. You'll save yourself about a hundred dollars, and you'll get a lot of the same great benefits.

The energy is focused on stability and motion control. Your foot will be fully supported and held in New Balance's "ABZORB" cushioning, and you'll be kept from turning your ankle by the "ROLLBAR" stability technology. They design the outsole so that works to help stabilize and guide the foot through each stride of the gait.

The footbeds are removable in the event you want to add orthotics or arch supports, and they're made of high quality leather uppers and have a rubber outsole.

Whether you're on your feet all day at work--standing or doing a lot of walking; you are active in your everyday life; you suffer foot pain, or just want to stave it off, you would be wise to choose the Addiction Walker, it is most comfortable shoes for work.

And if cost is of the utmost importance, a great runner-up is the New Balance 928.

There's one thing that all podiatrists agree on, and that is having a high quality pair of walking shoes can help prevent against diseases like arthritis and lead to a much higher quality of life.

It's critical for the life of your feet, as well as your joints, hips, and back that your arches are fully supported and cushioned, that you protect against rolling and twisting, and that you have good traction and stability control.

Either of these choices will deliver.

0 notes

greggreaen · 7 years

Text

Brooks Addiction Walker Review: Most Comfortable Shoe

And these things are all important and worthy of our attention and diligence. Our feet, however, are not getting the attention and care they should be.

A recent study conducted by the American Podiatric Medical Association found that 77 percent of Americans suffer from foot pain, but only a third would be willing to seek care from a podiatrist.

Foot pain can have a dramatic impact on your life, as it often restricts what you can or feel well enough to do. That means you stop doing things that are important to your health and wellbeing.

Things like walking, working, and enjoying time with kids and grand-kids. You don't have to worry about extreme measures for treating foot pain, however.

Sometimes it's a serious matter, and you should absolutely seek medical attention.

Most of the time, though, a small thing can literally change your life, such as best tennis shoes for standing all day.

Change your footwear, get yourself into the right pair and you'll be amazed at the positive impact it will have on the quality of your life and cessation of pain.

Why Addiction Walker?

Physicians and physical therapists recommended

Well built

They're designed and built by the people behind Brooks running shoes.

Comfort and quality

Pros:

Cons:

If you have wide feet or suffer from arthritis or any other foot affliction, check out both the standard and wide widths before purchasing.

They come in brown, black, or white, so if you're looking for flare, your choices are a bit limited on the color front.

They also have a bit of rugged look and might tend toward those who prefer bulkier, more outdoorsy looking footwear.

Finally, they're a bit on the heavy side compared to say a mesh running shoe, but what you pay for in weight, you get back in comfort and durability tenfold.

Quick Brooks Addiction Walker Review (video):

[su_youtube_advanced url="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYKxUn9tE9M" width="720" controls="no" showinfo="no" rel="no" fs="no"]

Comparison to New Balance 928

The footbeds are removable in the event you want to add orthotics or arch supports, and they're made of high quality leather uppers and have a rubber outsole.

And if cost is of the utmost importance, a great runner-up is the New Balance 928.

There's one thing that all podiatrists agree on, and that is having a high quality pair of walking shoes can help prevent against diseases like arthritis and lead to a much higher quality of life.

Either of these choices will deliver.

Brooks Addiction Walker Review: Most Comfortable Shoe published first on http://ivoamatheis.blogspot.com

0 notes