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emwritesstuff · 3 years

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as the world caves in | ch. 6 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode four. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: The following chapter is finally here! It took me a while to revise it because I wanted the action scenes to not suck super badly, so yeah.

(warnings: mentions of death, gunshots, blood, injuries) (word count: 3K)

six: shield

You sat next to Sam as he typed in a computer and Helmut Zemo nursed his headache. Once he gained consciousness, he’d showered you in gratitude and niceties, and you were already close to knocking him out yourself.

T-minus what, four hours? The Dora Milaje would be there soon enough.

It’s he the one to break the comfortable silence, only filled by the soft clicking of Sam’s keyboard before.

“Were you ever offered it?”

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at you with an amused expression. You shrugged.

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

Sam’s mouth turned down, and he slowly turned to Zemo.

“No.”

“No hesitation, that’s impressive.”

You got up from the table, making a round so you could watch Zemo’s face as he spoke. He’d seen you usher Karli Morgenthau out of the factory basement, and you wondered what he had made of your actions.

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” His eyes met yours as he said that, and you looked away, circling a pillar and walking to be on the other side of the couch, by his feet. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone.”

You sighed. “You talk in absolutes. People aren’t like that, Zemo.”

He studied you again.

“And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

Zemo spoke with such conviction that you were sure you’d be also be harboring a bullet if he knew who, and what, you were.

“Isn’t that how gods talk? And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” Sam’s eyes flitted to you, and you offered him a tight smile. “Blood isn’t always the solution.”

When Steve had talked to you about handing over the shield for the first time you were doubtful. He was grieving the loss of his own time – your time, too – and second-guessing his own claim to it.

You never stopped believing in Steve when he did. You and Bucky were war. Steve was… the end of it. And not just because of the serum. He was that since you all were small and scrawny, him a little scrawnier and a little smaller, as he stopped you and Bucky from butting heads.

For Steve, you, and Bucky as well, that shield meant everything. It meant the salvation of the world from true evil, that in the 1940’s was personified in the form of a little man with a moustache. Whoever carried it carried the responsibility of being the harbinger of that freedom. Of relief, justice, and most of all... hope.

So when Steve talked to you about handing over the shield a second time, this time to capable hands instead of a glass dome, you understood – it was time to pass the mantle to someone who was, indeed, a new beacon of hope.

Safe to say, the fact that John Walker now carried the shield you put so much importance into felt wrong.

“Something’s not right about Walker.” Bucky strolled in, seemingly in a sour mood. You chuckled, and watched as he discarded his things on the counter.

“You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Sam quipped, and you patted his shoulder affectionately when you walked past him to get Bucky to make you a drink too.

You swiped his jacket off the counter and hanged it neatly on the back of one of the barstools. Bucky licked his lips and shook his head as you mouthed ragamuffin at him.

“Pour me one.”

“Can you hold your liquor now, sugar?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed the glass he had fixed for himself.

“Now you pour yourself one.” You took a sip, smiling into the glass.

Bucky glared at Sam. “Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You shot Bucky a disapproving look. He raised his eyes briefly at you while pouring his drink, and shrugged.

“Buck—”

“I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

“James Barnes!” Goddamn Bucky and his hard-headed self.

Bucky looked at you like he used to look at his mother, wide eyed, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It only lasted for a second, his bewilderment falling into a scowl right after. Behind you, Sam chuckled.

You shook your head at Bucky, but you had no time to fall into an argument. The one and only John Walker and Lemar Hoskins were bursting in, demanding to take Zemo. Ordering, really.

“Hey, slow your roll.” Sam said firmly. “Man, let’s be clear. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.”

You bottomed up your whiskey, knowing whatever was to come couldn’t be good.

“Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. And we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

Walker challenged Sam next. He looked eager and ready for a fight, and as much as you’d loved to keep your real abilities hidden, you figured your time out of the spotlight was running out. Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eye, relaxed stance contrasting with the tightness of his jaw. Zemo paced behind Sam, still clutching his own drink.

The moment Walker put down the shield an iron spear cut the air and lodged itself into the pilaster, separating him and Sam.

No, not iron. Vibranium.

The Dora Milaje.

“Even if he is a means to your end… Time’s up.” Ayo announced in Xhosa. You grimaced.

You sighed heavily when John decides to one-up them, too. Ayo swings the spear at his arm when he touches his shoulder and a fight breaks out. You reached for the liquor again.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world.

The fight was only Walker and Hoskins getting absolutely overpowered by the warriors while you, Bucky, Sam and Zemo stayed out of it.

“We should do something.”

You swirled your drink, taking a small sip. “I am. I’m observing.”

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky shouted, making you have to hide a snort. Sam exhaled heavily.

“Such a diplomat, you. Bucky…”

“I’m a lot of things, Samuel.” You shrugged, but finished your drink anyways and hiked up your sleeves.

You, Bucky and Sam all ran to take one of the Doras each. As one kicked Hoskins to the couch you stepped in front of him, blocking the hit of her spear with your forearm.

You met her eyes and tilted your head apologetically. When she raised her weapon again you twisted your body and landed a back kick to her middle.

She staggered back a couple of steps but was back at you in an instant.

Hit. Block. Kick. Another hit to your shoulder.

Even if the fight was fairly balanced, Super Soldier against Dora Milaje, you knew you had a slim chance of actually winning. You hadn’t been in a fight in years, much less with someone this capable and trained.

After blocking another of your strikes with her spear, she hit the side of your left knee. It’s your bad one.

East Berlin, 1987. You had been undercover for nearly two weeks now, tracking a lead about the existence of a HYDRA lab that was conducting experiments with new Super Soldiers.

The wind that cut through the rooftop of the building you stood on testing the very limits of the overcoat you wore on top of your tactical suit. So damn cold. You tried not to dwell on how frigid your toes were inside of your boots, instead concentrating on watching the sun slip behind the skyline.

You were waiting on a man that would give you the next lead. Intel said he would be there before you, but he wasn’t when you got there. 10 minutes had gone past the accorded meeting time, and you were starting to think that no one was coming.

A bullet ricocheted on the concrete pillar you were stood behind, and you realized why S.H.I.E.L.D.’s contact was running late. You grabbed your own pistol, still hidden by the concrete, and peeked in the direction the shot had come from.

A man and a woman, in full leather. You saw the red star etched on their left arms as they marched towards you. HYDRA.

You had two exit options, one that was across the rooftop or jumping down into River Spree. Either way, you’d have to deal with the two HYDRA agents that approached you.

You ran to another pillar, shooting at them. You hit the woman on the leg, and she buckled down. Her counterpart didn’t even spare her a look, continuing his way to you. You kept shooting, missing a few and landing the rest on the both of them, the guy barely flinching.

You didn’t understand why he wasn’t using his own gun. Maybe he didn’t feel the need for one.

There was no time for thinking. The man was onto you; swatting your gun away, blocking your punch, hitting your chest. You crashed into concrete.

The woman joined in, landing a hard blow to the side of your skull. Your eyes widened. They were just as strong as you.

Super Soldiers.

You crawled away from them, hand swatting at your leg for your knife. It landed in the woman’s throat with a squelch. One down.

The man was much stronger it seemed, you barely able to keep the fight balanced even with another of your knives. You cut and ripped, but it was like your blade was a feather on his skin.

He backed you up until the edge of the building. You could see the river below.

You groaned when he headbutted you, and you go stumbling down. The blood was hot against your face and metallic on your lips.

He stomped on your knee. Again. And again. You choked on your own agony.

His voice was all you heard before he kicked you off the ledge. You plunged into the freezing air.

Hail HYDRA.

Familiar pain laced through you, making your hairs stand on end. You cried out, nearly tumbling straight to the ground.

The clank of metal hitting the ground and a spear shot at the direction of the shield ended the fight. Bucky’s vibranium arm laid limp and detached on the ground, his expression even more perplexed than when you had scolded him earlier.

You straightened yourself up as the pain subsided. Ayo opened the doors to an empty bathroom.

Zemo. He has slipped right through your fingers while you were busy defending John Walker’s ass from the Dora Milaje.

You helped Sam to his feet as they were leaving, Ayo giving you one last stern look before leading the way out. It felt like a reminder of a debt.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam said, looking at a limbless Bucky. The arm seemed to snap back into the right place, thank goodness for that. A failsafe, then.

“No.” Bucky rotated his arm, an indecipherable expression on his face, even for your standards.

The room was filled with tension as the three of you gathered yourselves again and John Walker sat defeated on the ground, with only Lemar to check up on him. You walked past them to get inside the bathroom, frowning at the drainage hole Zemo had made his escape through.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo,” Sam murmured.

“I can.” Bucky clenched his jaw. “Come on.”

Bucky led you through the backstreet and to the back of the building, though you weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for. A lead, maybe, but neither of you knew if Zemo had made his way all the way to the underground or escaped to the streets once he was out.

“You okay? You got hit pretty bad back there.” Sam said, looking at you. You all had taken a decent beating, but the hit to your leg had taken you by surprise. Bucky frowned.

“I’m good.” Bucky frowned deeper, and you shook your head at him, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “I got a bad knee, it’s all. Replacement cap and everything.”

Sam laughed.

“You’re 106 and have a prosthetic kneecap? Wow, you’re starting to sound your age.”

“You know what, Wilson? I think you should respect your elders.”

Sam raised his hands, still laughing. “Okay, okay. But only ‘cause I saw you kicking ass back there. Girl, where the hell have you been?”

Bucky grumbled something, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

“Retired.”

You patted his cheek lovingly, and laughed a little when you caught him fighting a smile. Sam got ahead of you, sending you a look of mischief and wiggling his eyebrows.

You urged Bucky forward, earning a huff from him as you got to Sam’s side.

Compartmentalizing was necessary. Zemo was on the loose, Walker was verging on unhinged, and there was still Karli to deal with. Whatever was going on with you and Bucky – and the insistent feeling that tugged on your heartstrings whenever you looked at him – would have to wait.

You listened to Sam’s conversation on the phone, his tone growing more concerned at every pause. Sarah. Overnight bag. Take the boys.

“What happened?” Bucky asked and you slipped from under his arm.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.”

Shit.

“Sam, I got a safehouse in New Orleans.” You said once he hung up. He nodded at you, and you took his phone to get his sister’s contact.

Karli was entering dangerous territory. Before, you considered her a fighter on a rightful cause, but as if predicted by Zemo, she was escalating. You feared that it was a fight you couldn’t let her win, or run free.

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number.” Sam’s phone chimed. “She said come alone.”

“I’m comin’ with you.” Bucky looked at you. “We are.”

“Let’s gear up, boys.”

---

You were grateful you had kept your old tactical suit inside your closet for a rainy day.

The suit was carbon black, except for the blue-grey Kevlar plating on your chest, back and upper legs. It had a faint resemblance to an armor, and the amount of impact it could absorb made you protected and difficult to take down. You completed your gear with your trusty boots and hidden knives.

Sam had changed into his wings and Bucky into his peculiar one-armed leathers.

“Damn, you look cool.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “So do you, Sam.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “We should go.”

The sky was cloudy and the air dry, and still you could feel a storm coming. You walked into the empty building, you and Bucky tailing Sam.

“Karli!”

The redhead revealed herself, standing on the second floor. Sam went to talk to her, leaving you to watch them from a distance.

Karli looked at you and Bucky there, her eyes lingering on you for a few seconds more. You realized how menacing you must have looked, the three of you in full gear, and you wondered if Bucky felt as strange about your rigid stance as you did about his.

The two of you really had changed.

“I was gonna ask you to join me. Or do the world a favor and let me go.”

If only things were that easy.

Sam looked at the screen on his wrist and turned to you in alarm.

“It’s Walker.”

A trap. Bucky was the first to leap to the ground, colliding with Karli in the process. You and Sam landed at the same time, and you hoisted Bucky up while Sam clashed with the girl.

He sent Karli to the ground with a flying kick.

“I’ll send you the location, go!”

You and Bucky leapt into the street and broke into a fast sprint as Sam took off.

“You’re fast!”

You looked to your side at Bucky, smirking. He was just a little behind you.

“I’m lighter!”

“No fair!”

“You have a metal arm!”

Bucky led you to the location Sam had sent him. Riga had plenty of empty buildings, it seemed. You were running up the stairs when a Flag Smasher jumped on you, then another on Bucky.

The guy and you dragged yourselves all the way to the top, exchanging punches. You saw his eyes widen under the mask when you landed a boot on his chest and he went flying backwards.

Taking the free time you had bought yourself, you searched for Bucky below you. As soon as you found him the Flag Smasher tackled you, hoisting your body up. You hit his shoulder blade with your elbow and he bumped into the railing, quickly turning and hanging you over the edge.

“Y/N!”

Bucky was upside down. No, that was you.

He reached for you as the other Flag Smasher had him locked in a rear choke.

“I’ve got this!”

Tightening your legs around the man, you let yourself fall, taking him with you. You crash at the bottom of the building.

“You said you had this!”

Bucky jumped to your level.

“I do!”

You stared at his scowl for a brief second before roundhouse kicking your foe and finally putting him down.

Bucky returned to you after dealing with his own Flag Smasher. He looked furious.

“You’re so fucking reckless!”

Oh, Jesus H. Christ. You couldn’t believe Bucky, wanting to argue.

“I am fine! It wasn’t that high.” You huffed. “We have no time for this, James. Let’s go.”

You ran to the top of the building, Bucky trailing behind you. He caught a flying knife right before it lodged itself on your face. He glowered at you as if to say you don’t got this.

Not sparing him a response, you busy yourself with fighting another of the Flag Smashers, this time a woman. It was like all you needed was a little warming up, because you’re clearly in advantage as you blocked her punches and grabbed her torso, slamming her into the ground next.

You looked up. John Walker was staring at you.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on whatever he saw, one of the men coming from behind and immobilizing him.

Karli screamed as she ran towards Walker. She was in it for the kill. Hoskins tackled her before she could do it. All you could make out was the blur of an altercation.

Lemar Hoskins slammed into a pillar with a crack.

Your stomach churned.

Everything stilled as Walker ran to his partner, desperately trying to get him to wake up. He slumped sideways, his head lolled down.

He was dead.

Karli and her group took advantage of the tumult and ran, her shooting one last look at the rest of you as they took off. You couldn’t let her get away this time, though, so you immediately go into pursuit.

You shot one look behind you, seeing Bucky and Sam follow you as you whizzed through the streets of Riga. You’re the first to get to the square, making your way to the middle of the crowd hastily.

Walker stoop upright, holding the shield over the body of one of the unmasked Flag Smashers.

It was broad daylight; there were dozens of people around you.

The city was silent.

He was dead.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n

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alchemabotana · 3 years

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Horoscopes for the Full Moon in Capricorn June 24th 2021

Antonina “Little Thunder” Whaples

@whaplesantonina

If you enjoy these horoscopes, please consider supporting by voting for me as Ms. Health and Fitness 2021 for Muscle & Fitness Hers Magazine. You can vote once every 24 hours for free. If I win, I am donating the proceeds to herbal medicine school scholarships. To vote: https://mshealthandfitness.com/2021/antonina

Strawberry Moon - Pen & Ink Sketch by Antonina Whaples

Horoscopes for the Full Moon in Capricorn June 24th 2021

Strawberry Moon

This lunar Opening in Capricorn June 24th 2021 is a cry of righteousness on the hilly planes of our spiritual landscapes. With this meregoat’s lunation, we will experience the inherent benefits of the systematic work we’ve done since 2018, with a special emphasis on decisions made to change personal system errors. The Gods of karma are smiling at our intentions and efforts, and rewards will be reaped by those who invest in self discovery. Our ritual work has been seen and blessed in the Summer Solstice shifts by the spirits of the Land. If you listen closely on this strawberry moon, you may just hear the call of the Cosmic tricksters as they work their mojo on the psychopomp of Earthly frustrations. When you’re feeling the pull of your natal oppositions this moon, tune into the tendons of your actions and see where the motion stems from. You may be relieved to find that the strings that once pulled your puppet are made of finer ancestral threads and your permission to be free was always there. When you check into the Cosmic Chess Board you may find something of a rubix cube has emerged in your new dimensional awarenesses. Instead of throwing yourself into the equations necessary to unlock this next level, revel in the achievements that brought you to this very moment. In a cosmic landscape where the processes of life and death have been hyper focused in our collective consciousness it feels rebellious to change the font and type settings of the ancestral notepads in our minds. Representing the waters that run deeply within the Earth, Capricorn’s fullness in the night sky will illuminate various Spirits whose presence have been well established, but not necessarily recognized. A sign of the power of mental affirmation, your thoughts and words will hold a special magic in this moment. Remember that your Guides, Spirit Animals, Power Totems, Good Medicine Ancestors, and the Spirits of the Land are excellent translators, and with Mercury about to pop out of retrograde (watch out for its shadow til June 30th), its final lesson is one of the personal spiritual variety. When what we seek is Truth & Justice, we allow our souls to attune to protective forces that help us autocorrect, fold into origami, and transcend with temperance.

Aries:

It’s no surprise that an old tune holds the secret code from that earlier recording of the master tape your memory has been searching for in the old filing system. In these moments you realize just how deep and densely tracked the highways and byways of your mental system are. You’re the original wayfinder of your own uncharted territory of the mind. This state of curiosity opens you up to spiritual healing that aligns your personal ideals and values with the actions a person desires to embody. When your actions meet your words, you tend to feel the most at home in the grander machinations of Spaceship Earth.

I’m not sure if I’m feeling funky or groovy, jazzy or bluesy? Does it jive with you? Is it feeling all right? What songs have got you buzzed on this full moon night? I’m enjoying the humour of the human experience, and I find ways to incorporate positive sources of enjoyment into my daily routine. I recognize that I can be sensitive to the frequencies I consume mentally, and I’m manifesting sources of comedic gold into my awareness. I can be my own clown, and enjoy an inside-inside joke anytime my mind decides that laughter is the best medicine. I love to laugh, and allow myself this simple pleasure in life.

Taurus:

Saturn in Aquarius square Uranus in Taurus has been creating a nuanced ping-pong table in your mind. This influence has been upon your daily life for sometime, and shall continue on through the rest of the year, with another exact square in December 2021. Accept the exactness of this T-squared engineer level measurement on the corners of your ascension blueprints. It’s ok to look at the world from your own angles, and you may be happily surprised by the moments that unfold joyously when you use your sharpness to hone the hedges of your self doubt. There’s a special magic in this moon for you, as the meregoat lights a part of the puzzle we wanted to get done anyway. This refocused energy gives you the internal resources to wait to make your next move, even though the ones you’ve planned are quite clever already, when mercury rx clears you’ll have fine tuned your intel.

I give in to the epic bonestructure of my cosmic face in the universe. I know that on these edges are where the hedgerows grow. In these sanctuaries of my boundaries, I give spaces for things I truly want to cultivate to be engendered. I find which spaceships are allowed to dock at my intergalactic port of plenty, and make sure that my shields are up when psychic frequencies intend to disrupt my qi. When I breathe, I give space to the energy around myself, and I feel permission to let go. When I let go, I allow myself to accept instructions in the forms of feelings and intuitions. I do not allow the opinions or voices of others to upset my internal compass. I feel centered and grounded and know I will continue to make positive choices and believe in myself. I choose to honor myself, and that makes me feel good.

Gemini:

You’ve been carefully funneling resources into a variety of investments. Financial and interpersonal projects and alliances deepen, although it is not a time to throw caution to the wind. Caution and planning is what has allowed you to learn to trust the ebb and flow of the cosmic money winds, and you’re trying to siphon your own renewable sources, not steal from the Gods. When you place yourself in alignment with your internal resources, you can learn to embody compassion to provide yourself when feelings of self worth or insecurities prod you to feel guilty about the ways you regenerate. Let your conscience be your guide, and allow others to do the same. The path of self acceptance is most rich for you at this juncture, and it would be wise to use the Full moon to clear the psychic debris of your aura through ritual bathing, sound healing, and aromatics.

I can sometimes turn my mirrors askance to the equations I cannot seem to readily solve. But, in doing so I lose reflections that empower me. I accept that it's time to look at some of those patterns again and see if they even deserve a place on the chalkboard of my mind. When I make space to use my memory card to run programs that make me have feelings I actually enjoy, I look into my secret box of fantasies and realize I may have already realized many of those experiences. In these moments of clarity, I hold a space for myself to enjoy what I may not have allowed myself to in the past. In this way, I take back my energy and transform myself in the present.

Cancer:

In this moon you are finally able to feel that rebound-snap! Ka-bow! sh-zing! of Mars’ exit from your cozy airbnb. You’re reminded that you should be charging premiums for your ability to stay level-headed when the Gods and Goddesses war in the Heavens, and on Earth. You enjoy a good ritual bath, but to stay out of hot waters, this crab needs a cool-down. This Capricorn Moon is just what the doctor ordered, and something about the good medicine flowing through you can’t help but seep into certain streams where the mojo is most needed. This is an excellent time for you to pause in your personal space and take a moment to feel the beauty of your domain.

My soundtrack of life is a high luxury five star bathhouse of the Spirits. I’ve been Spirited Away to lands of emotional remembrance. The roots of my ancestors have spoken to me, and I have heard their instructions. I need not fear the judgments of others, because I am a sacred part of creation. I will not allow negative voices to infiltrate my consciousness, but instead, I will choose to believe that my work has been blessed by the Cosmic Super Computer and shall continue to have its content prioritized. In this space of trust, I allow myself to turn my consciousness to what I’ve relegated as “frivolous artistic pursuits”. I find the time and space to make something just because. When I experience this energy releasing through the act of creation, I realize why it mattered in the first place.

Leo:

The grass is pretty green in your patch. Both career aspirations and spiritual wealth appear to be presenting itself to you in all new fashions. You may literally be feeling called to new ways to express yourself externally, and this exploration of your presentation to the world helps you heal. You’ve been feeling called to healing in general, feeling like it may be a good time to start a new way of moving, or to add a healing ritual to your daily experience. If you happen to use stone medicine, Turquoise will be especially healing in nature during the transit of Mars through Leo, and can be just the cooling mechanism you need to keep your Roar without the bite.

Sometimes I’m just feeling high octane. When I find the right stomping grounds to release my charge I am able to do so safely through friendly communication strategies, good topics of conversation, interesting objects within my spacial periphery, and calming colors. It’s ok to turn the volume all the way up, but when the outside world adjusts its tone to match, I can switch to a different groove. I’m in awe of my co-creative power to engage my environment and use my influence therein to bring forth collective healing experiences.

Virgo:

Something about this moon in Capricorn feels familiar to you, and perhaps it's the quiet watch you’ve held & the prayers of your heart being answered. Your physical being is finding ways to heal through your insights to your movements in daily life. As your mind/body/spirit awareness grows, you find new ways of expressing yourself. This ability to shift and transform might seem like deja vu, but it's your memories finding their way to the surface. When our minds give us abstract feelings and visions, we can move mountainous emotions safely within our systems, without harming ourselves or others. Breathe deeply and find a place to scream loudly if you need that release.

I have crossed some barren deserts, but I have not died of thirst. I am blessed with the life I have co-created in the spiritual planes of my intelligent manifestations. My awareness of the barren corners of life have given me compassionate reflective capacity and a recognition of my gifts by those whose opinions matter to me. I am enjoying the small moments of joy and call them precious to me. I forgive myself for any moments where I’ve expected too much of myself while I was grieving a loss. My heart is tender, and my spirit gentle. I wish to live in harmony with myself and others.

Libra:

This Capricorn moon you are more annoyed than usual at laundry, other people’s messes, and scapegoating. Your sensitivity to physical objects is heightened under this Full Moon and it may feel overwhelming to be in the midst of the messes others leave for you to clean up. It’s more than frustrating when you acknowledge how your time/energy has been appropriated. Instead of letting loose the fire brigade when the bridge seems to be burning, walk away from the moments today that feel like a temptation. Make sure to find objects that reflect healthy energy back to you, and sit amidst a tiny oasis of your creation, and pay no attention to chaos of the Gods. You deserve a Full Battery, and the spirits are conspiring to recharge your battery banks this lunation.

I gather strength from my service to my community. When I have been unbalanced in the past, I allow my weight to ground in all directions through the sacred communions of my own secret tabernacles of the human experience. I make new covenants with myself and the way I speak and treat myself, so that I no longer need to suffer under the weight of the past. I don’t need to feel any guilt in laying down my load, and don’t need any permission to do so. When I feel safe, I will allow those who I trust to provide the respite necessary for me to heal my visions of my life and expand into an abundant awareness of how truly loved I am for being myself, and how needed my cosmic ray of intellect is to this world.

Scorpio:

Known for your secrets and depth, you’ve been hiding like the Cosmic Sphinx between the pillars of the temple gates. You’ve been allowed to watch the clashes of the Giants unscathed, and your insight will outlast this passing phase of planetary tensions. You’ve been sending alien text messages to Neptune’s work phone, and the intel has been legit. Your attraction to Art, Color, Shape, Form, Music, and Theatre are encouraging you to make insightful investments in your own dreams. This Full Moon beckons you to create with abandon and let the waves of inspiration quench your desire for pleasure.

I feel like the whole choir singing in one unison. I weave through the soundwaves, key changes, and rhythm switch-ups as I keep time with the sacred union of celestial sounds. I am aware that the tunes of the planet herself offer me a sacred respite from the cacophony of the cosmic movements. When I ground myself into the soothing waters of my spiritual essence I define for myself how my energy is used for the goodness of my own healing.

Sagittarius:

It feels like you’ve been getting along pretty well with the planetary forces, and everyone secretly enjoys the protection that your bow provides for the tribe. You may be feeling a bit cramped in the yellow submarine of the pandemic, dare we say you could have cabin fever? The Trines, Sextiles, and satellite signals of the skies indicate that you can find a special type of relief from the feelings of squished with mandalas, botanical drawings, and spirographs. When you take the time to let your mind journey in these ways, it lets your hunter’s mind relax for the next best chance. And no worries, you’ve got plenty of chances ahead, Sagittarius.

Life is good. I do my hair toss, check my nails - baby how you doing? Hey, life is good. He’s got his eye on the sparrow and I guess that’s me? I’m playing with the chemistry... cause that’s how I be? When I look into the mirror I see a babe, a real dude of the neighborhood - my sister, mothers, daddy, and the community. I guess when I see you, I see me. And when I’m in that light in me, and you are in that light in you. There is only one of us: namaste my bissssssch

Capricorn:

This Full Moon in Capricorn you endeavour to ask outloud: “What Giant’s Bones Have We Built Ourselves Upon?” Your Full Lunation is opposing the Sun in Cancer, shining a shadow on our collective exoskeleton. This Full Moon feels like an archeological discovery when proverbial bones rattle out of the closet to give us a hoodoo prayer’s chance for self liberation. You’ve been waiting for a moment like this, and it's OK if you’re not ready to take that leap of faith. But should you choose, the moon lights up an emotional healing around the concept of “home”. You really want to know if you’re believing the right thing from one moment to the next, but keeping your head out of the secret sauce is key to giving your subconscious the space it needs right now to send out signals to the future. Soon enough you’ll be receiving confirmations of cosmic flavors right into your spiritual inbox.

I called Stephen Hawking and he called me back. My voicemail said: “Hey friend. I know this is a hard time on planet earth. I think people are doing better than they believe they are. It’s hard to be a human. I remember the constraints of the body, and I understand when you want to just fly away somewhere. I believe in you. Capricorns get a bad rap sometimes. I can see your progress, and I hope you take the time to see it too. By the way, we always have the time to say how much we matter to each other. Thanks for being, and enjoy this life, you deserve it”.

Aquarius:

There have been a lot of light bulbs going off in your spiritual laboratory. This Full Moon when the light shifts, your awareness of the dimensionality of the objects and purpose of your life is heightened. You may be experiencing some grief and loss around feelings of closeness with others. Recently you’ve been asked to hold a deep stability for the collective’s growth. Your actions haven’t gone unnoticed, and you’ve been receiving opportunities for advancement in your career. However, you are feeling uncomfortable with commitment while under a deep pressure to perform. These archetypal struggles are up for healing on the altar of the Full Moon. Your magic fairy dust works the best when you sprinkle it on yourself. You are learning the ways of Illuminated Prosperity.

My voice is a symphony of grace within a cacophony of sound. I breathe in the knowledge that my very existence is a miracle of my own embracing. I find myself at home in my surroundings and know I belong. Whoever “They” are, I know I can be myself around “Them”. I trust that my instincts are perfected beyond doubt. I’ve taken all the tests and quizzes and my insights are showing precision on whichever experiments have survived my tests of time and spirit. When I tune into my highest self it's because I’m recognizing my ability to be in that place no matter what surrounds me. Even when my circumstances deny me, I do not deny myself. I believe that I am worthy of the life I am living, and anticipate my surroundings shifting to match the unique vibrational fingerprint that I offer planet Earth.

Pisces:

You’ve been holding down some major spiritual territory during the recent seasonal shifts. The light of the meregoat acts as a lighthouse beacon for the whales and whistleblowers of your waters. You’re not particularly interested in that island, and prefer to spend this Lunation in Capricorn Gardening, Cleaning Out the Car, Writing about your art, Feeding the fairies, Calling in positivity, Releasing the Past, Testing New Grounds, and let’s just say it: looking pretty guuuuuuud while doing it. So good. You might want to tune into some whale call noises, or turn on a beachy video. The seas are definitely calling your name, and your inner explorer could watch Moana a few times through the eyes of the grandmother, the eyes of Moana, and the eyes of Te Fiti.

I am a sound rising on the waves of creation. I turn my eyes to the heavens and I’m in the medicine nation. I forgive myself for all my wavering, I know my power lies in my cravings. I can wish upon the starry skies, and watch the birds where e’er they fly. I’m curious to know the names of all the fairies, and their games. I want to know what games I’ll win when I’m laughing with a cheshire grin. I know what gods have sent me here, I know which path I’m meant to clear. And when the waters run to quickly, or the bushes get too prickly - I can lay my spirit down. My minds’a palace, my head a crown. You could call me king or queen, but my magics’still unseen. I’m so much bigger than my titles, or whichever ones I didn’t get. I’ve given all at my recitals, and I’m my own best bet.

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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“First Lines” | Tag Game

Hey Y’all I have gotten tagged in this a few times— thank you so so much @auroracalisto @mikaelson-emma and, of course, @hellotvshowtrash— I haven’t had much time to read them and form coherant thoughts but expect some soon.

So the rules are you post the opening lines to 20 of your most recent fics— or all the ones you have if you don’t have 20— and it kinda just shows who you are as a writer and it’s just fun!

I decided to include some WIP’s— and expose to everyone who is not @activist-af the sheer amount of fics that I start and then set aside. Please enjoy y’all I got a kick out of compiling this list!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies, a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies. Right?

(WIP | Persephone’s Symphony | Bucky Barnes)

“Did you pack my dress!” A shrill voice assaults her eardrums as she scurries towards the door.

It comes from a tall, thin, young woman. Her face and fingers are boney, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves down her back. The faintest aroma of honeysuckles and violets wafts off her creamy skin. She is beautiful, her step sister Anna. At least in theory. The sneer on her cherry lips and the hatred in her cerulean eyes, unclouded and accusatory, can’t be hidden by any length of silky dress or ruby lipstick, though. She is ugly, even if just on the inside.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter One | Loki)

The ride to the capitol takes three gruelling days. Each night is spent at a different tavern. It is the same story each time; Estrid and Anna spend the night in a lavish bed and Y/n is left with the horses, curled under her thankfully baggy cloak. It is neither warm nor comfortable, sleeping on the bench seat of the carriage. She never really falls asleep, she only dozes in and out of consciousness. It is almost always interrupted by footsteps or the murmurs of animals or her own mostly empty stomach growling into the night. That one is twofold- usually her stomach is in so much nauseating pain that she cannot sleep but, on the off occasion she can, she is then awoken by the loud roars it makes.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Two | Loki)

“Please Surtr.”

Her voice rings through his ears on a loop, the most beautiful and agonizing melody that he has surely ever heard. She must be magic- something strong and powerful and like nothing he has ever seen before. There is no other explanation. It had been magic when she appeared to him, literally falling into his lap as if out of thin air. He is the god of tricks but even he cannot do that- he cannot make women that smell like flower petals land in his arms at will. He wishes he could- more than anything he wishes he could pluck her out of his dreams and bring her back to him. But he cannot because that was not a trick. That was something else entirely.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Three | Loki)

Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Four | Loki)

“On the balcony,” Frigga calls back, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. “We have company!” She adds, seemingly as an after thought— she is too busy pouring wine from a glass feeder into a beautifully ornate cup.

At least, Y/n thinks it is wine. She can smell the fermented berries— sweet and tangy and warming her nose as all wines she has encountered before have— only this wine is a pale violet shade. It is not an opaque rouge, not a barely there chartreuse. Nothing like what she has ever been able to get her hands on by way of bartering or shared celebration. Weddings and births. She takes a seat in one of the golden chairs, trying not to think about how out of her element she truly is. The little details are starting to show though. Not just extravagant pools and marble hallways. Even the food here is luxurious.

(WIP | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Five | Loki)

She would have never thought it possible. Never. She’s the type to sit at home and crack open a good book. Maybe make a nice cup of tea. Lately she has been finding hibiscus tea to be a nice way to end the night. That’s besides the point, though. The point is that she is nothing like her older sister Jane. She is a dreamer, not a doer. Not a traveller.

Especially not a traveller of space— of foreign planets.

(WIP | Untitled | Loki)

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

(Posted | Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys)

“Get away from me, Kai!” Y/n snarls, pushing her way through the grill with a huffing witch on her heels.

She had been eating her meal- staring at her meal more like— and trying to ignore the constant buzz of her phone. He was incessant, texting her non— stop as if it would make it all better. After the thirtieth text she had turned her phone off, preferring to look at her food in silence. No text can erase his voice in her head. She means nothing to me.

“Not going to happen, kitten,” Kai purrs, his hand wrapping around her arm and tugging her to his chest, “you’re not going to ignore me.”

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

New Orleans isn’t all that it was cracked up to be she muses to herself as she winds her way through the tombs. They tower over her, shadowing her with the sins of so many people before her. They’re lonely. That’s all she can think, over and over again. They must be so lonely. There can’t possibly be enough people to visit each of them. There aren’t even any people to visit her, let alone thousands of lost souls. She laughs to herself, a cruel sound breaking through the crashing silence. She is a lost soul.

(WIP | Do You Have A Moment? | Kol Mikaelson)

A little bit outside the city lines of New Orleans, tucked precariously off highway 109, there stands a roadside market. It isn’t too far, nor is it too close; it’s just right, like the porridge in some half assed, uninspired fairytale. It’s nestled perfectly on the edge of the bayou, drawing in just enough business to keep the two girls running it in business. The jam is sweet, the ham is honeyed, and the women have smiles that look a little bit like rain in a drought: necessary for life but too much water on dry soil is a recipe for disaster. It’s all a little bit too perfect. Too clean cut and wholesome. But this isn’t a fairytale, after all. It’s the story of the girl who got away with it and the girl who helped her do it.

(WIP | Hey Tommy | The Mikaelsons)

The Salvatore house has always smelled the same; like oranges and rum. A lot of rum. It is a welcome scent, one that smells almost like home. It will never truly be home, those scents are already reserved in your very essence, but it’s close. You’ll always be happy to walk through their door. Today is no different.

(WIP | Forever and Always | The Mikaelsons)

Kol drags a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on the book in front of him. His eyes wander the page, the corner of his mouth lifting when he skims something particularly interesting. You, too, have a book in your hands but, unlike him, your focus is elsewhere. To be exact, your focus is four feet away, basking in the sun on the lap of one shirtless vamp.

(WIP | Best Friend Things / Part Two | Kol Mikaelson)

“So, love,” a pair of arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a warm chest, “these are the famous pumpkins?”

A familiar blonde head, the one you woke up to this morning, settles against your shoulder. He must be leaning significantly given the fact that he’s at least a good head taller than you. You break the rain spell you had been working on, laying your wand next to your pumpkin starts. That’s the beauty of magic, you can grow in any season. You turn to face Klaus, a soft smile on your face.

(WIP | Pumpkin / Harry Potter Universe AU | Klaus Mikaelson)

The salt clings to her sticky skin, her hair grainy and matted from the surf. Thunder rolls overhead, chasing her through The Cut like. It’s only half past noon but shadows layer the street, casting everything in a dusky gloom. The pavement smells sharp; the rain is coming and fast. She hikes her tote higher on her shoulder and wishes for a moment that she hadn’t dove for as many shells today. She feels like a beached whale with all the dead weight. Business is business, though, and the tourists go crazy for a handmade necklace.

(WIP | Thunderstorm Afternoons | Jj Maybank and John B. Routledge)

She shoves her key into the lock of the Smith’s beach house, turning it with an audible click and smiling when she pushes the door open to the smell of warm pizza and oranges. Try as the boys may, Mrs. Smith’s affinity for essential oils will always prevail over the mass amount of cheap pizza they consume on what is— unfortunately— the daily. She hauls her bag higher on her shoulder, closing the door behind her and thanking the heavens she remembered to pack some of the chicken her mother made for dinner on her way out the door. No Domino's tonight, thank you very much.

(WIP | Sleepovers | The Kook Boys)

“Y/n, darling, come here,” her mother’s sweet voice trickled over her from the front hall, “I have some people I want you to meet.”

She stepped into the hallway, coloured lights pouring over her. It was Christmas time, her favourite time, and everything was extravagantly decorated. Garland lined the grand staircase, there was a tree in almost every room, and, her favourite, holly strung in every doorway. Her house radiated magic, more so than usual, that is.

(WIP | Hufflepuff Princess | Draco Malfoy)

Her feet hit the pavement with careful clicks, her heels— while undeniably killer— a little loud for her taste: a product of her day spent in practice with the other debutante girls. She has to force herself to make her steps light. This isn’t New York, it’s Mystic Falls. Being a southern woman is not a choice; it’s an obligation. A prior commitment she agreed to before she was old enough to truly fathom what it meant. For the most part she loves it— the elegance and refinery, the teatime giggles and flouncing skirts— but the heels? That’s a hard no.

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

She sighs, her toes burying themselves in the carpet as her arms reach well past her head in a much needed stretch. Her room is dark, the only light coming from her cheap desk lamp. The pounding in her head, for once, isn’t enough to drown out anything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. None of this was supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to get this far. It was always just a game, wasn’t it? She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her knees wobbling slightly at the thought. Get it together, y/n.

(Posted | The Bet | Rafe Cameron)

Her bubblegum lip gloss attacks him from all the way across the café, cutting cleanly through the aroma of coffee and donuts and sending his heart racing at the obscenely sweet scent. He should hate it. No, scratch that, he shouldn’t think anything of it at all. It’s not in his nature to enjoy things- or to feel things at all, to be frank- but he can’t help it. The drugstore brand, wildly over-scented balm makes his head fuzzy like nothing else.

(Posted | Bubblegum Princess, Cherry Angel | Kai Parker)

I don’t really know who to tag because I haven’t been active these last few days so I am tagging people I have not seen do this yet and if you have just ignore me : @elijahs-wife @draconisxcaput @imaginearyparties @dumble-daddy

#tag game #first lines #WIPs

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glorious-blackout · 3 years

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Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Epilogue

@rock-n-roll-fantasy Aaaaaand it’s over! This is technically more of an optional ending as I suspect you’ll prefer the conclusion to Part Seven, but a certain character would never have forgiven me if I didn’t let him get the last word... 😉

Thank you so much for all of your lovely feedback and sorry for making you wait so long for these last two chapters! And now it’s time for me to finally start listening to Arctic Monkeys/Muse albums that *weren’t* released in 2018 😅🥰

Also I would like to thank Matt for unknowingly writing the perfect end-credits music for me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8tpkpoSW5I

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

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A million miles away, on the desolate remains of the planet once known as Earth, a lone observer watches silently as a pair of retreating figures on a cramped TV screen ride off into the unknown.

Surrounding him on all sides are thousands of similar screens, stacked atop each other like building blocks, though for the moment he only has eyes for one. Only a week ago, every single screen was proudly lit up, showcasing the intimate details of his subjects’ mundane lives and thus allowing him to observe with unrelenting scrutiny. Now, however, a worrying proportion of those screens are fizzing with broken static; the worlds they once displayed forever lost from his grasp.

The sight should enrage him, and perhaps one day it will. Every barren screen represents the loss of constant hours of effort and imagination, and as the aftershocks of Matthew’s assault continue to ricochet, he imagines he will lose countless more over the coming weeks. Nevertheless, for the moment he cannot bring himself to mourn the loss of realities which brought him little pleasure in the first place.

Murph, or The Creator, or whichever title he chooses to wear on any particular day, does not consider himself a cruel being. Contrary to the vile accusations his peers have levelled against him, his games are not designed with the intention of torturing the subjects within them. In fact, one could consider his efforts to preserve the collective consciousness of a dying species to be a noble one. Humanity would be nothing more than a distant memory had he not intervened at the opportune moment. And yet, despite his good intentions, acting as a benevolent observer often fails to bring the satisfaction he desires. Sometimes boredom settles deep within his bones and he cannot help but interfere with the idyllic lives his subjects have created for themselves.

And he cannot deny that the thought of these two particular playthings discovering hope which will ultimately be torn away does put a smile on his face.

Most of that satisfaction lies in the prospect of punishing Matthew, though he has no doubt that toying with Alexander’s heart further will provide its own brand of levity. Where bitter vengeance is concerned, however, the former is the one he truly has unfinished business with. That particular human has been a thorn in his side from the very beginning; his knack for slipping into paranoia at any given opportunity had made constructing a believable reality for him an almost insurmountable challenge. The temptation to simply banish the man’s mind into the void had flared up once or twice, but in the end Murph had been somewhat successful. Matthew had bought the truth of his reality with relative ease for the first few years, to the point where any cracks that appeared were easily ironed out with a simple rewrite of code.

Until one day, Murph’s interferences were no longer sufficient to sustain the lie. Matthew’s conviction shattered and his mind with it; without warning, he set about tearing the carefully constructed world around him to shreds and treated his lifelong friends with open hostility. Murph could easily have given him up for lost at that point. Matthew had always been an infuriatingly willful creature – incapable of appreciating Murph’s efforts even after stumbling upon the truth of his feeble existence – and killing him would have been as simple as swatting a fly.

And yet, Murph had allowed him to live. Not out of any form of mercy, heavens no, but because the promise of a challenge was far too compelling. Matthew’s resistance made him special, whether he realised it or not. Most of his subjects were docile creatures; passive participants in a charade they refused to acknowledge. The ones who had come into his care willingly were the worst offenders, having subconsciously convinced themselves that they were caught in a blissful afterlife preferable to the miserable future they would have endured on Earth. Perhaps they’re right, but humans living in quiet contentment have always made for boring viewing. In the form of Matthew, Murph had finally stumbled upon an active participant he could slowly unravel at the seams, and after years of steadily building ennui, the thrill of the chase had been downright intoxicating.

In contrast to Matthew’s blatant rage, Alexander’s resistance had been... unexpected. The strength of it even more so. Murph cannot help but wonder if the sheer force of his suspicion – his feeling of utter wrongness in a place he’d once willingly called home – would have reduced his world to dust even in the absence of Matthew’s influence. Perhaps this shouldn’t have surprised him. For as long as he can remember, he has always had more trouble maintaining the lie when the subjects have been unwillingly brought under his control. The same is true for all species he has salvaged; it is the same factor which no doubt played a role in Matthew’s refusal to accept his own reality. Murph can manipulate their memories all he likes, but the inherent desire to escape their miserable fate is forever latched onto their souls.

The new identity had been an inspired touch in the beginning, keeping Alexander’s naturally insightful tendencies at bay for a while. Mark had been a more amicable creation while still retaining plenty of Alexander’s attributes, and the latter’s imagination had always made his reality one worth visiting. However, the line between the two identities had grown considerably blurred over time. Memories had melded together in ways that no longer made logical sense, and Alexander’s yearnings for home had translated to a bitter exhaustion and loneliness which Mark simply couldn’t overcome.

The fact that everything Murph had built had ultimately been derailed by a bottle of scotch and a friendly conversation was as clear a sign as any that Mark’s world had been hanging by a thread far longer than he had appreciated.

It probably took more effort than it was worth to salvage Alexander’s mind from his dying world and place it in an entirely new one - costing countless other simulations in the process - but he cannot bring himself to regret that decision. It hadn’t seemed fitting to let such promise fizzle out with a mere whimper. Entertainment is a rare commodity in these trying times, and he’s learned to take what he can get.

Matthew has certainly contributed his fair share. Having decided that killing him outright would be a waste, Murph had invested a lot of time in their frantic game of cat and mouse. While his plaything remained confined within the limits of his own reality – a frightfully boring seaside town on England’s coast – Murph had upped the ante by unleashing a horde of mutated creatures, using them as vectors to introduce a virus which reduced the population to rabid monsters driven solely by bloodlust. If Matthew had been particularly shaken by this new development, he’d masked it well. If anything, he seemed to glean a sense of bitter enjoyment out of receiving confirmation that his reality was little more than a façade, and had risen to the unspoken challenge admirably.

Before long it had occurred to Matthew that an absence of limitation placed upon the imagination could also apply to him. He learned not only how to play the game, but how to adapt the rules in his own favour. Murph had quickly come to rue the day he placed Matthew in a technologically inventive time-period, for his opponent had taken advantage at every opportunity; fashioning makeshift weapons and vehicles out of little more than scrap metal and a vast imagination. No particular engineering prowess was necessary. Before long he was summoning technology out of thin air with an ease that almost rivalled Murph’s own.

Even then, Murph had been unconcerned. Despite Matthew managing to slaughter any mutated creature he crossed paths with, the threat he posed to Murph himself seemed so miniscule as to be easily dismissed. At least at that point Matthew had mostly been sticking to the rules. Once the penny dropped that his reality was merely one of thousands in an intricate web, however, he’d accomplished the unimaginable and injected something which might have been fear into Murph’s long-decayed heart. Disbelieving eyes had been glued to the screen as Matthew fashioned a portal from scrap; one which should, by rights, have been unable to accomplish anything of merit. And yet, once its construction was complete, Matthew had stepped into the blinking red void without a trace of fear, smashing his way through the walls of one reality and emerging into another, whole and seemingly unscathed.

Quashing his efforts had become a much greater priority at that point. Treating Matt like a dog-eared chew-toy in his own reality was all well and good, but the man had gained far more intelligence and influence than Murph could tolerate. The prospect that he could potentially infect other realities with his schemes threatened to send Murph’s entire empire crumbling to ash if he wasn’t careful. In the more futuristic settings, he had been able to station guards designed in his own image, with the sole intention of blasting Matthew into atoms if he dared worm his way into their reality, but rather predictably Matt had dodged their attacks with a wry smirk, bending the rules to his will with an expertise that was almost frightening. Despite the seriousness of the man’s objective to track down his loved ones and rescue them from an existence he naively deemed to be diabolical, Murph got the distinct impression that Matthew was enjoying himself far too much. He was still treating his escapades like a game, long after Murph’s own objectives had darkened.

Well, if he insisted on playing dirty, then Murph could resort to that as well.

He’s still proud of his next trick. The brutal reaction it had elicited had been nothing short of delicious. With vivid gratification, he recalls the momentary spark of hope in Matthew’s eyes as his gaze settled upon the avatars of his friends, during a visit to a simulated reality which almost resembled Earth. He remembers the moment his opponent had allowed longing to override logic; remembers the point where all thoughts of the chase were abandoned and, with a cautious smile, Matthew had fooled himself into believing that he’d discovered the true forms of the men he’d loved since he was a teenager.

What must it have felt like to see them again, Murph cannot help but wonder? The Christopher and Dominic of Matthew’s own reality had been dispatched early in their charade, infected and mutated by the same creatures Matthew evaded with relative ease. No doubt the only reason Matthew survived their losses was because he’d already accepted that they were nothing more than sorry substitutes for the real thing. A part of him must have wondered, however, if that was truly the end. If the last association he would ever have of his two best friends would be the sight of them clawing their way towards him in a mindless rage.

The cold mix of terror and heartbreak that crashed upon Matthew once the blatant hatred in the eyes of his friends became crystal clear is an image Murph still treasures. For one bittersweet moment he’d honestly suspected that Matthew would surrender and let fate carry him away, rendering Murph the victor and granting fleeting satisfaction in the aftermath.

Alas, survival instincts had kicked in at the last possible second, and Matthew had fled the scene at a sprint before his familiar assailants could shoot.

The temptation to do the same to Alexander had arisen once or twice, on the occasions where boredom reared its ugly head. It would have been a simple enough task. The avatars for three of his best friends were already buried in the simulation; a simple rewrite of their code would have turned their inherent fondness for Alex into hatred in a heartbeat. He could even have added one additional ghost into the mix, just to twist the knife until the pain would never stop. Alex had never done anything to warrant that level of torture, however. Playing with Matthew’s heart had been entertaining - not to mention earned - whereas playing with Alex’s would have been like kicking a puppy just to see how it would react. Momentarily thrilling, perhaps, but ultimately predictable.

Besides, Matthew had made him pay for his cruelty, albeit not quite as successfully as Murph has led him to believe. His constant hopping from one reality to another had rendered Murph’s creations vulnerable. His brutal smashing through virtual walls left aftershocks in the wake of his adventures, although that in itself was easily fixable. Murph had quickly grown tired of his continued insolence over time. Not so much his continued survival, though he did make a point to send the morphed versions of his friends after him at every given opportunity. However, Matt had an unfortunate habit of forgetting that, in the wake of Murph’s towering influence, he was little more than a cockroach waiting to be squashed underfoot. The lack of respect had forced Murph to step in, to confront this tiny creature and remind him that he was simply an insignificant plaything in the grand scheme of things.

Matthew’s lack of fear when faced with him for the first time had almost been impressive, though Murph had been able to sense his feeble heart racing with adrenaline. The human had stood impassively on a steep cliff-edge while Murph towered over him, revealing his true form for the first time. From a distance Matt must surely have looked like a blot on the horizon and nothing more.

Such a meeting had no doubt been Matt’s intention. Murph allowing himself to become invested in the game rather than erasing Matthew from existence in the first place had been a mistake borne of arrogance, and he now knows it would serve him well not to make the same mistake again. The mind-numbing aftershocks stemming from the moment Matthew powered up a metallic glove and aimed a colossal, fiery beam of energy at his tormenter serve as a bitter reminder that he must learn to be more careful.

Physically the assault had done nothing at all. Even if Matthew’s corporeal body were standing right in front of him at this very moment, any attempt to attack would have the same effect as a mouse trying to destroy a mountain.

The mental assault, however, had been far more powerful than Murph could ever have anticipated.

Perhaps Matthew himself believed the weapon he’d designed was a physical one; he seems willing to accept the possibility that it killed its target after all. What the beam had truly unleashed, however, was a sheer, unrelenting wave of emotion. All of Matthew’s simmering rage and heartbreak had drowned Murph under its weight as his consciousness was overcome by burning sparks of light. All of Matthew’s love for his friends and family - which had become so intertwined with grief during his entrapment - reduced Murph’s mind to a blank haze, and beneath it all the sheer power of hope and determination had shattered the reality they’d both been standing in.

A similar feeling of powerlessness had overcome Murph not long before, when Alexander somehow anticipated Murph’s attempts to erase Matthew from his mind and erected a mental block so formidable that his very reality had trembled. This was different, however. Alex’s attempt had been powerful but clumsy, like batting his arms against an unseen enemy in the dark. In contrast, Matthew’s assault had been the direct attack of a man desperate to burn Murph to the ground without a care in the world for whether he himself survived the aftermath.

Murph had awoken in his nest, surrounded by screens and caught in a daze. In a moment of madness, he’d spared Matthew’s dying mind from the crumbling reality he was trapped within, fashioning a new one in the blink of an eye. One with considerably less tricks and theatrics. One that resembled the home Matt yearned for so desperately, recreating it so convincingly that his insightful mind appears to have taken the bait.

Murph cannot help but wonder if it would have been easier to let Matthew die. Alex too. The latter’s knack for questioning his authority will no doubt prove troublesome, now that he knows to be distrustful of the reality presented to him. For now though, Matthew remains his greatest concern. His mind still aches in the wake of the man’s assault. With each passing second, he can feel more and more worlds fade into nothingness, leaving only static in their wake and claiming the souls of thousands in the process. Losing them all is not a possibility he wants to comprehend. He has not spent enough time on Earth to justify heralding humanity’s extinction so early, and alternative dying planets are harder to come by than one might expect.

He wonders how Matthew would feel if he knew he’d disrupted and destroyed the minds of so many people. People who were once as human as him and Alex, who are now gone without the faintest trace that they ever existed in the first place. People who had no say in their fate, nor any stakes in the game they’ve both been playing for far longer than necessary. Would he be so overwhelmed by guilt that he would no longer be able to function? Would the realisation be the final straw in snapping the man’s mind like a twig once and for all?

Or will he consider those people to be liberated from their prison like the naïve fool that he is?

No doubt Murph will find out the answer to that eventually. This particular ammunition is too valuable to waste.

That can wait until later though. Matthew and Alex still need to be eased gently into believing that their current reality is real; there will be time for twisted revelations and sacrifices later. Besides, regardless of the eventual outcome, Murph can take comfort in knowing that his ultimate victory is inevitable.

He wonders how long it will take for the penny to drop. For those final, fearful memories to return. For the realisation to sink in that, for all their struggles to return to their beloved realm of flesh and bone, they’ve chosen to embark on an endeavor which is entirely futile.

They have no physical bodies to return to. No means of roaming the Earth as living creatures. Any vessels they may have previously inhabited sputtered and died when their minds were pulled from their heads; their bodies buried long ago, having been wept over by the same people they insist on mourning now.

As for their minds? Well, they’ll remain in Murph’s capable hands until the moment he tires of them and blinks them out of existence. No doubt it will be a long while before he’s driven to such extremity, of course. These two are fortunate that they’re as entertaining as they are annoying, and tormenting them further will certainly be one way to pass the time.

As it stands, time is all he has.

So for now, he’ll gladly let them indulge in their fantasy. He’ll construct a small band of survivors five miles from the beach, offering food and shelter and an explanation for their ruined earthen surroundings which somewhat mirrors the truth. He’ll offer campfires and music; will allow pleasant recollections of their previous lives to return to them in the form of dreams. He may even offer whispers of other survivors closer to the city, with descriptions matching the loved ones whose arms they wish so desperately to return to.

There’s no rush. No need to pull the rug from under their feet too early and spoil the fun.

It’s only a game after all.

#honestly i probably should have watched the ST movie before writing this thing #this chapter really was me trying to piece together some semblance of a story from the music videos/gifs #hopefully it's not completely incoherent 😅#Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino #Simulation Theory #Arctic Monkeys #Muse #my fic #writing

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etirabys · 4 years

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Rec: meditation

I started meditating with the app Headspace in 2017, and started using the app Waking Up this past month at the same time I started meditating a lot more. Part I of this post is a comparison of the two apps, meant to justify why I think someone getting into meditation should start with Headspace. If you are not interested in meditation but enjoy thinking about the human mind, the description in Part I of what Waking Up teaches may still be interesting.

Part II describes my motivation for meditating and what I think other people can get out of it, Part III gives specific recommendations for meditation.

Part I. Headspace vs Waking Up

Note before I go on: Headspace and Waking Up are both paid apps. Headspace is $13/month. Waking Up is $100/year, but many redditors in threads I read about Waking Up before buying it assure me that the team really wants people to meditate and will give it to you for free if you produce a good reason, like “I cannot afford this but I find meditation helpful”.

I think I’m getting about five times more out of Waking Up because I started with Headspace. Some things that I think are very useful before starting Waking Up that Headspace teaches better:

Being sufficiently good at staying at your breath that you can by default stay with your breath for 3 cycles before you get distracted

Being sufficiently good at noticing when you're distracted that distractions are normally <=1m

Either finding body scan (moving your attention down the body, tuning into signals from different subsections) easy/intuitive to begin with, or being familiar enough that you just 'know what to do' when prompted

Headspace teaches you these in a more accessible way. Waking Up asks you to perform new mental motions in almost every session of the introductory sequence, and I think it’s hard to get something out of this if you’re busy struggling on the basics listed above.

Headspace has a 30-session introductory course, where each session is 10m. Even if you never do another Headspace pack, I recommend this. I also endorse speedrunning it by doing it 2/day and finishing in 2 weeks.

Each Headspace course (1 course = 10-sessions with a theme like ‘Anxiety’, ‘Mindful eating’, ‘Pain management’) has 1~3 of the following techniques associated with it:

Body scan (moving your attention from your head to your toes – practicing letting sensory data fill up your mind)

Noting (basically installing the TAP of noticing when you have a thought, emotion, or sensation that is not the thing you intend to focus on, and bringing your attention back to the object of focus, using the breath)

Reflection (Emptying your mind a bit first, then asking yourself a specific question, or rather letting the question sit in your head, letting potential answers come and go)

Focused attention (focusing on one thing, noting when something that is not that rises to your mind, watching the thought run its course, which it generally will much faster if you're watching it rather than running it, and then going back)

Resting awareness (think and feel ~normally without an object of focus, but have a watcher process that's looking at thoughts and feelings interleaved with the process that's actually having those thoughts and feelings)

I don't think Headspace is very good at articulating and teaching the last two techniques. Waking Up teaches those two better, and those are the interesting ones.

Waking Up's schtick, as interpreted by me, is that it asks you to

Model your mind as a projector screen (or mirror, or ‘space’) on which things are appearing,

Notice how much of what's on that screen appears there without your input (like bodily sensations or sounds),

Notice an increasing set of things as 'things that appear there without your input',

Notice the 'you' that is the watcher-entity / consciousness that is separate from everything on the projector screen, because the watcher is not producing mental phenomena

And once you have this model and a visceral sense of using this model to move your mind the same way you use the model of a car to drive a car, you can do things you couldn't do before when your model was "my mind is me, making choices and doing things", e.g. having greater control over how you react to a thought or emotion.

My current view is that focused attention is the practice you do to familiarize your mind with using the "the mind is a screen and watcher" model instead of the "the mind is me" model, and resting awareness is just the thing your mind will do a lot with normal life once it is used to using the model. Like constrained exercises in physical therapy vs normal walking.

Waking Up also teaches you to

5. Notice that the watcher does not really exist – that every mental effort to ‘locate’ the watcher will fail.

because part of what WU tries to teach you is to let go of the notion of the self, completely step out of the “my mind is me” model. The creator thinks that letting go of this is a fundamental component of the mental transformation the practice of meditation is for. I am personally not very interested in this and am electing to ignore this / not actively learn it.

Part II. What for?

My original motivation to meditate came from failing to meditate the first time I tried it, being aghast that it was so hard to do something as simple as focus on the breath for even one minute, linking it to my general lack of mental discipline, and deciding meditation was an obvious way to try to fix.

I have not seen tangible improvement in mental discipline. But after a month of meditation 20m/day on average, I’ve seen tangible improvement in emotional control and what I’m going to call a-freedom-to-choose-the-self.

I have several instances per day where I’m feeling frustrated or anxious or guilty, switch into observer mode, and kind of watch the observer process take up more and more CPU until the original process isn’t running at all.

I sometimes recognize when I’m lost in a thought or feeling that centers around a desire to control or set the course of the future – whether that’s on the scale of hours (will I get enough work done today) or years (am I going to get divorced in the next decade) – and immediately translate it to the present: will I do some work in the next minute, am I paying enough attention to my partner’s existence and needs today. You don’t need meditation to do this, exactly, but it really helps to have a visceral feeling of your entire life being composed of slices of ‘the present’, that the present is sort of the only thing you can control and be responsible for. And have that visceral feeling, it helps to have a lot of practice tuning into the present, which meditating trains you to do.

What I’m labeling freedom-to-choose-the-self is the feeling of (1) having a thought that’s pretty tightly anchored to you – e.g. a sense of judgment about something you’re consistently judgmental of people (including yourself) for, investment in maintaining your status in your workplace or gaming forum that you’ve been part of for years, (2) switching over to the mind-as-screen-and-watcher model and regarding the thought/feeling the same way you’d regard traffic noise that’s happened to arise outside your house, (3) thinking “do I want this thing attached to me? Is it good for me? Do I like it?”, and (4) if you don’t, letting it go with the same gentle indifference you’d let go of the traffic noise. Crucially, you’re not rejecting the underlying drive that generated the thought, or severing it from the self – you’re just choosing not to make that particular thought an “I-thought”. Your future self may very well have a similar thought and choose to claim it as an “I-thought”, and that’s your future self’s prerogative.

Please note that I am still impulsive, undisciplined, full of stupid feelings, struggling with my job, and that I had a ridiculous fight with my partner just this week that was 90% my fault. I am merely happier and more in control of myself as I do all this.

Part III. Where do I start?

Here’s an extremely prescriptive schedule. I have designed it for someone exactly like me.

Get Headspace for a month.

Do 10 minutes every day for a week. (Headspace says the first week is free, which might mean that you can cancel in the first 7 days and pay nothing.)

If you don’t hate it, kick it up to 10m twice a day for the rest of the month. The introductory 30 sessions teach Body scan and Noting, you should definitely do those. After that you can do whatever you want – Headspace’s courses are very similar to each other, despite the names. I liked Acceptance (Body scan, Reflection), Transforming Anger (Focused attention, Body scan), and Managing Anxiety (Body scan, Noting). If you want to try a Headspace course that teaches Resting Awareness you might want to try Pain Management (BS, FA, RA).

After the month is up you should have meditated for about 9h, which I think is a pretty good start.

If you’re still interested at this point, quit your Headspace subscription and get Waking Up, either by paying or asking politely.

Waking Up’s intro sequence made of 10m sessions. Do one a day, and follow it up immediately with 5~10m of unstructured meditation where you just set a timer and either meditate on the breath or continue practicing what the day’s WU session told you to do. The sessions are kind of dense, so do repeat or revert sessions as needed.

Do ramp up. Doing 40m every other day was the frequency at which I started seeing interesting mental shifts after several weeks. (40 consecutive minutes, but not continuous practice – I don’t have enough discipline/attention for that. I do 10m of a Waking Up session, and then 10m each of focusing on sound, breath, and body scan.)

?? (time passes? other things?)

You are a different person? Maybe chiller and nicer and more productive? We do not know.

#rambl #meditation #headspace #waking up

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livlepretre · 4 years

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I'm so glad you decided to do this ask game. I love your writing style and have been curious about 4, 11, and 54 for a while. Thank you for being so interactive about your writing!

💙💙💙 honestly thank you for asking! I love interacting with all of you here on tumblr, and honestly, talking about writing gives me a lot of energy to see through really long projects (you all know which one).

4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?

Yes! The most helpful habit I’ve developed is actually finding the right time of day (for me) to write-- I’m best in the mornings, so the first thing I do 2-4 mornings a week is caffeinate and open up my word doc with my wip. Often I’ll reread a few scenes from where I left off to get myself going, and then I write for an hour or two. My thoughts are so much clearer in the early mornings, before I head to work and exhaust my mental energies, that the work flows really freely-- I can often cover the same terrain by writing first thing that I might take all day to cover if I get started, say, on a Saturday in the early afternoon (sad but true).

I also do like to amp myself up with songs, but I don’t listen to any music WHILE writing-- only beforehand. I find music during writing to be way too distracting.

I only ever write sober, because I find even a glass of wine throws me way too far off my game (and I hate squinting at my screen). But the more caffeine the better.

Also, detailed below: I OUTLINE LIKE A FIEND

11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

hmmm okay

so, often an idea will hit me and I will immediately have maybe 3-10 pages that flow really fast... but then I’ll stutter out

so after that comes the outline.

and I mean: OUTLINE

I put my outline at the bottom of my word document, below the scenes that I’ve already written-- for FE this started as a pretty basic series of like, maybe a dozen bullet points overall. As I kept brainstorming and writing and thinking about it, I started having more specific plot points. Every time an idea occurred to me, I added it to the outline. In the beginning this was a very flow of consciousness outline, not even bullet-pointed, just paragraphs and paragraphs detailing in often vague terms the broad strokes of what I wanted to happen and what the emotional beats would be. I think it really has helped me with FE that I had a lot of the BIG moments outlined before I started writing, including the ending, so I knew the narrative arcs and could foreshadow a lot of things, even if a lot of the chapters get written between updates and I have added in a lot of things that have just sort of naturally developed. The good news is that if you overall stick the outline, you can also add a lot of other things in.

I review my outline A LOT.

Before I write any particular chapter, I look through the outline, and figure out which pieces I want to include in the chapter. I then go through and MINIMUM outline by bullet point the scenes that will be in that chapter-- although, I like to have the next 5-10 chapters outlined that thoroughly so that I know exactly where I am heading. I cannot stress enough how hard it is for me to write without a blue print.

Sometimes I write a scene that I end up not using. Rather than deleting it, I move it to the bottom of my word document-- often these scenes can be revised later to fit into the story.

I also write at the bottom of my outline any scenes/dialogue that pops into my head that I know will happen later. This way, I have it on hand when I get to it.

For the actual writing, once I start writing a chapter, I pretty much work on it every day until it’s done-- sometimes all I do is tinker with the outline, or write a few sentences, and sometimes I wrote 4,000 words-- it doesn’t matter how much or how little, because in writing, every word is a victory.

I try to apply the same rule to my creative writing as to my essay writing--just get the idea/emotions/plot out, describe it as clearly as possible, and any finangling with words can be wrestled with on a later pass.

I usually reread each chapter 5 or 6 times before posting-- often it’s the first thing I do when I open the doc up to write. This is often a good chance to add in connecting scenes, change sentences slightly, or revise paragraphs so that they fit into any emotional arcs/discoveries later in the chapter. I often change lines because earlier writing contradicts something I want to say later in the chapter, or use the chance of the reread to change words/restructure sentences.

When I get lost, I make character motive charts. Like, I write down each character’s name, and I come up with a list of what each person’s motive is. I then try to come up with a definitive action each person can take to accomplish their goals. Hopefully at least some of these characters will be in conflict.

Whenever I get to a major inflection point in the story, like, whenever I am about to drop a major plot reveal or change the course of events in some way, I do a major reread-- I reread my whole fic start to finish and use the notes app to copy and paste any paragraphs that are important (from my view as the writer) into a note so that I can keep track. This could include any paragraphs with foreshadowing, plot threads that have not been tied up, characterization notes I’ve forgotten about... anything at all that will help me wrap up anything I may have forgotten about.

For that matter, the notes app on my phone is also where I punch in anything that occurs to me in the middle of the night or when I’m at work, running errands, etc.

I basically repeat this process, until I find myself at the end.

Long story short: It’s all about the outline!

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

Find your best time to write and take advantage-- when do you feel most mentally alert? when do you feel most inspired? for me it’s early in the morning-- I could potentially write 7 days a week if I wrote at night, but I find I can get a ton more done in 2-4 days of 1 or 2 hours of focused writing than I could blearily staring at my screen. So, even if your BEST window is only available a couple of days a week, that is still a HUGELY productive window of time that will lead to good things!

Outline. As mentioned above.

If you only write one sentence today, you’ve done the hardest thing: you’ve written. One sentence as often as possible will eventually make it easier to write two sentences as often as possible, and so on.

Writing is a continuous act of self-improvement. I try not to worry about revising my work too much after I’ve hit publish, instead recognizing that there are fics easily accessible on the internet that I wrote when I was sixteen and yes they are highkey embarrassing but they’re also kind of a badge of honor because wow, I’ve gone from struggling to write a short 2,000 word story to working on an epic length novel. And what people say is true: it is an agonizing process to hit publish, full of self-doubt and hand-wringing (I cannot tell you how often FE has made me NERVOUS because of the content), but the beautiful thing about writing is that when you put it out into the world, you’re giving it over as a gift for everyone else. So, try to let yourself just write as much as possible.

Be honest in your writing. Go ahead and squash that little voice in your head telling you to hold back on the emotions, to be more solemn, more restrained. So long as you write your heart, it will be true, and there will be people who will connect with the writing because of that.

#anonymous #ask game #on writing

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 4 years

Text

Happy (Slightly Belated) Birthday, Baghdad Waltz!

*CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BAGHDAD WALTZ UP TO CHAPTER 37*

I know these are stressful times right now, but I wanted to post a little something for BW’s third birthday on 3/13/2020 (and I’m a little late because I had a lot to say). THREE!! I cannot believe it. Truly, I cannot, but here we are. I know there are still a few stragglers hanging around from when I first started posting this story (extra hearts to you all), so many people who have come and gone and sometimes return again, and so many new people joining this crazy journey all the time.

You are all so great, and you make it possible for me to keep writing this. I probably would have quit a long time ago without your support, because this shit has been quite hard to sustain sometimes. I know I am very bad at keeping up with comments and things, and I’m so sorry. I am terrible with social media, too. People IRL will say the same thing about me. I am super old school and still talk on the phone with my friends. I KNOW.

(Heyyyy Bayside High)

I’ve prepared a couple of things for BW’s birthday. First, a few statistics I thought I’d whip up. Then a few questions and answers about BW, both from myself and from my beloved beta, @pitchforkcentral86. And I’m still trucking away diligently at chapter 38! I just have a few scenes to go.

-- BW Statistics --

---------------------------------------------

Words to date: 526,011

Chapters to date: 37

Shortest chapter: 3,821 words (Prologue)

Longest chapter: 31,395 words (Chapter 33)

Number of words per chapter: 12,530 (median), 14,257 (average) (note: the median is probably a better measure, since this is such an abnormal distribution - see below for the changes in chapter length over time)

Estimated total work to date: 2,890-3,120 hours (approx 18-20 hours/week). This includes writing, rewriting, editing, research, conversations with beta, outlining, and a small portion of the brainstorming. This is a conservative estimate and only includes a fraction of the ambient thinking I do about this story. And God, I do so much processing when I sleep! Perhaps I will be a BW “expert” -- estimated at around 10,000 hours I guess? -- by the time I am done with the story and all my revisions hahahahaaaaaa D:

Money spent to date (estimated): $600-700. This includes books on various subject matter and writing craft, video access to therapy education resources, and other educational materials. This does not include the incalculable sum in lost productivity from thinking about BW when I’m supposed to be doing other things!

Most of you probably don’t know this, but @pitchforkcentral86 is not just a beta reader. She is my partner in crime with BW. She knows my characters as well as I do, sometimes better. She helps me troubleshoot scenes, she tells me when my writing sucks, when my I’m not being true to my characters, when I’m not being real enough (sometimes when I’m being TOO real). She gives me porn inspiration and listens to me bitch and calls my bullshit and makes this story what it is. I really mean it - this story would not be nearly as good without her, and you can see how much better it gets once she starts to get involved around chapter 17.

So I decided I would answer some silly little questions about BW. Just my own personal opinions about stuff! And asked @pitchforkcentral86 to contribute as well. See below.

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why?

In no particular order:

The 9/11 memory (Chapter 26): When Steve is in therapy with Hope remembering when Bucky returns from Ground Zero. This was one of the first times I experimented with writing in a sort of stream-of-consciousness way (though certainly not the last!). I have done several tweaks to it since the original version, texturing it more. It’s so rich in detail, visceral detail, little details about their relationship, pieces of Bucky’s past, clues about his alcoholism, the way he handles stress, his difficulties letting Steve in, the love Steve has for him, Bucky’s need to be loved and cared for and his aversion for it, it’s so, so rich. Gah. I love it. (GUH and @buckydunpun’s ART - just murder me. Thanks.)

The Thor “breakup” scene (Chapter 28): This is the moment I think that many people realized Bucky is not a reliable narrator. Maybe they suspected it before, but this is when it’s very obviously apparent. His entire interpretation of his relationship with Thor is thrown into question. He built a rich fantasy about what they were, holding hands in the grass, all this bullshit, and he could actually say they were boyfriends, which makes complete sense because there were never any stakes. It was always surface. There was never any intimacy except as veteran/soldier friends who had sex, which is about as deep as Bucky can go anyway without getting utterly terrified.

This is in such stark contrast to Steve, where there is actual intimacy, ongoing demand for more intimacy, and this relationship feels VERY real to Bucky, and it’s very frightening to him. And that’s why he runs from the term “boyfriend” with Steve. It’s all so real. It’s easy to engage with a fake boyfriend. But still, he didn’t deliberately realize he was doing this, so it was devastating to find out the truth of his own self-deception. And to hear that he’s not the kind of guy you settle with, he’s the guy you fuck… wow. But how can you really hate Thor? (I’m sure some of you can but…) He’s a nice guy. Even Bucky knows it. So he’s run from something good and real (Steve) to something good but false (Thor) and then he gets rejected from both. It’s horrible and so self-defeating and so quintessentially Bucky. I love it.

A Close Second (Spent Brass fic): This whole side fic came together like a glorious dream. I love everything about it. It’s such a wonderful look into their relationship, into their dynamics, into their individual personalities, their idiosyncrasies, so much push-pull between them. Whispers of things that have happened to Bucky in the past, a lack of understanding from Steve, a desire to know, so much affection. Some good sex. I love this SB. But I love all the Spent Brass fics. They are so close to my heart.

Honorable mention: Bucky’s masturbation scene during his bender (Chapter 32). I had an absolute BLAST writing this. Thanks to @pitchforkcentral86 for proposing that Bucky’s core sexual/romantic desire is just to be kissed. Dayum. It all unfolded from there.

Who is the character I think about the most? Bucky. I think because he’s got the most complex history and the most complicated psychology. He’s actually fairly rule-bound in terms of how he operates, but he’s got a lot of back story that explains how he became the way he is, and I spend a lot of time considering what happened to him and how he developed his self-image, his coping strategies, and his ideas about others and the world. I think a lot about his relationship with his parents. I think a LOT about bby Jamie. It’s not because Steve is not important or any less complex. But Bucky’s childhood experiences have shaped him in very specific ways, and I want to make sure that I represent them very thoughtfully.

Who is my favorite character to write? Bucky. His voice and thought processes come to me more easily than Steve’s. Perhaps in part because of my personal penchant for the word “fuck.” I love writing his perspective, his preferences, his interpretations of situations. I love imagining the way he imagines the world.

Who is my favorite supporting character? Winnie. I know she’s a very polarizing character, but I have so much affection for her. I think she’s a badass. She joined the military as a female officer back in the 1970s, which is incredible and rough. She kept her maiden name. This is a Southern conservative woman, an Air Force brat, raised by very conservative Southern people in a very conservative Pentecostal church, but she has always had an irrepressible rebellious, feminist badass streak in her even before she knew what feminism was. She might not even define herself as a feminist now. She has always done the best she can under very difficult circumstances, and she loves her kids, even though she sometimes sucks quite badly at mothering them. I love her for her imperfections.

Favorite topic to research this year: I’ve been really enjoying researching emotionally focused couples therapy, which was developed by Sue Johnson, EdD. I’ve been watching therapy videos of couples going through this and having a wonderful time imaging Bucky and Steve going through something similar with Claire. I don’t think Claire is the strictest adherent to EFT, but I think she’s informed by it. It’s tough, because I’m very used to cognitive behavioral type therapies, so this one has been different to think about writing. I’ve also been really getting into reading about childhood sexual abuse and its effects on boys and men. It’s greatly helped my conceptualization of Bucky and Bucky and Steve’s relationship. I mean, it’s a grim topic, but there have been some fascinating threads in terms of understanding one’s self perception of sexual orientation, etc. and thinking about how Bucky would consider and contextualize his experiences.

Am I more of a Steve or a Bucky? Hmm. I don’t strongly relate to either, but I think if I had to choose, I’m a bit more of a Steve. I’m pretty expressive of my affection and positive emotions, and I’ll complain about daily life things enough. However, when it comes to major life events that really bother me, I tend to err on the side of not processing them and turning my feelings into headaches and other physical afflictions. In other words, I’m a suppressor of major emotions and events. It’s FINE. I’m FINE. Nothing to see here. But I am definitely not as tidy as Steve, nor as smart, and definitely not as buff or hot. So that’s where most of our similarities end lol. I do eat a lot of tofu though.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day? I initially thought Rikki, but like @pitchforkcentral86, think she’s actually too cool and smart for me, and I would probably just make an ass out of myself. I think probably Elektra. I know, this is a left field answer, but it’s one day! To do whatever with anyone! I want to choose someone who’s going to make it worth my while. So many of the characters are either too busy, too rigid, too anxious, too conventional, etc. I would want to run around NYC with Elektra for the day and have drinks with her and Matt afterwards at some weird-ass underground bar. My more infield answer would probably be Hank. I want him to tell me gay stories about gay things. I want to see his apartment. I want to drink coffee with him. I want him to tell me about what the AIDS crisis was like for him. I want to hear about his relationship with Howard. I want all the shit that Bucky takes for granted every day. He can be my fairy godmother any day.

Who would I want to be friends with? Probably Sharon. She’s one of the most reliable, loyal, and level-headed people in this world. She’s smart, she’s flexible, she rolls with things pretty well but also doesn’t take a ton of bullshit. She also has a good sense of humor about things. I feel like she’s someone I could call with my Zack Morris phone and talk with for hours about all sorts of things. We could also split a bottle of wine and talk some real shit.

Wait - Why not Bucky or Steve? I don’t think these two are entirely likable, to be honest. They’re good humans, they mean well, but I don’t think they’re very well equipped in the friendship department. I care about them very deeply (I hope that’s clear), but I don’t know if I’d want to be particularly close to either of them at this point in their lives. They’re both lacking in the skill and perspective to be good friends and partners, which is a major reason why they are in therapy.

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire? Claire. Given how much I suck at talking about the things that are really deeply bothering me, I think I would need an emotionally focused therapist who is going to dig in there and really get me to focus on all the emotions I’m trying to shove away. I would probably try to over-intellectualize everything and deflect, and I don’t think she’d let me get away with that.

Okay, on to @pitchforkcentral86~~~~~

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why?

Oh boy. Well, this is a difficult question to answer since it feels like every chapter becomes a new favorite simply due to sheer amount of time spent planning and composing and revising and whining and complaining. And also my memory sucks. BUT, with that said, I think I would like to mention three scenes specifically:

1) Bucky on deployment, cleaning a Humvee (Chapter 7), Steve standing nearby. This scene conveyed the tension of deployment and between Steve and Bucky so well, and, perhaps more importantly, built my respect towards Bucky as a competent, caring NCO (to that effect, the small scene in which we see Bucky the NCO on film telling all the little grunts to eat so they can become big and strong is another favorite).

2) Beautiful Boy (Spent Brass), Steve’s memory from childhood with Sarah at the park, naming animals. I really don’t have a good reason other than that scene was so clear to me in my mind and was especially tender.

3) Steve sleeping with Sharon in DC (Chapter 33). Honestly, it was just a great scene, and we had a really good time planning it out.

I can include many more, and certainly the ones Dread mentioned are favorites too, but I have to stop or this will just be a squeee fest.

Who is my favorite supporting character?

Hank. His particular brand of honesty is extremely appealing to me, and I think Bucky secretly, or not so secretly, loves him too. And also Quill, just for shits and giggles because he is reliably there as an ice breaker, that lovable Mountain-Dew-drinking goof.

Favorite topic to research this year:

Well, I don’t do the research myself, but I spend many, many m-a-n-y hours listening to and conversing with Dread about all the things he’s delved into for this fic. So I guess maybe I’ll turn this question into favorite topic to discuss/conceptualize. In that respect, Bucky’s and Jack’s relationship has been by far the most intriguing, grueling, fascinating and difficult aspect of this fic to conceptualize – those were some of the best talks in the process. [Dreadnought edit: You will see much more of this in future chapters, folks!] And for a fun answer, planning out sex scenes is hilarious.

Am I more of a Steve or Bucky?

Bucky, no doubt. Sometimes it feels like Dread has climbed into my brain, found a horrible nugget of truth about me, and then put it into words coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Those moments are both wonderful and terrible in equal measure.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day?

For a whole day? Can it maybe be a coffee or, like, a quick lunch? I honestly don’t know… Neither Steve nor Bucky will be very good company, I think. Not in their current versions, anyways. Rikki is hella cool but she intimidates me, so, not her. Um.. Huh. Nope, don’t have an answer.

Who would I want to be friends with?

Probably Hank, again. He has a really good attitude. I’m starting to feel like not picking Steve/Bucky is selfish because it’s like “oh, they have too many issues and it won’t be fun”. But it’s also true! Friendship is reciprocal, and I really don’t think that’s where they’re at. (But I would have totally been dying to be friends with Steve in his bookshop days).

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire?

Hope or Claire. Both are no-nonsense competent therapists. But I think maybe Hope will be too put-together for me. So, yeah, probably Claire.

-----------------------------

Okay, everyone. Back to the grind. I’ll update as soon as I can! Remember to wash your hands with the fastidiousness of BW Steve Rogers. (And also remember to sing the “happy birthday fucking everyone” song, which should actually be sung TWICE or resentfully enough that it lasts 20 seconds.)

#baghdad waltz #happy birthday #fucking everyone #I love you

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mayacatmaster · 5 years

Photo

Only at a certain stage I was told that this (form) had been born and this is "me." .. But to whom???

If I don't pick up it... as 'me; mine; myself' & "real; true'.

*** *** ***

Give up the idea of being what you think yourself to be and there will be no gap.

By imagining yourself as separate you have created the gap.

You need not cross it.

There is nobody else.

All is you and yours.

Just don't create it.

This is a fact.

-I Am That, Ch. 37. ~Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

*** *** ***

There are umpteen methods but I give only one method. I am telling you -you know you are -to the exclusion of everything. Just be. That is the only method. Why do you want to start this practice or that practice? ~Nisargadatta Maharaj *** *** *** Why do you still consider the phenomena? See who the Seer is. BE HERE NOW. *** *** *** Now, self-inquiry…: Who-see-who identify with any kind of “I am this or that!” as “me; mine; myself” &”real; true”, now??? Who-see-who identify with any kind of “I am this dreamer or that!” as “me; mine; myself” &”real; true”, now??? Who-see-who identify with any kind of “I am in this dream or that!” as “me; mine; myself” &”real; true”, now??? Remember you are the seer beyond any kind of “I am in this dream or that!” And this seer can check out old-time-space-reality-room, suddenly …. if you don’t want it. And this seer can check in New-time-space-reality-room, suddenly …. if you really want it. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😍😘😗😙 As a 3d-life-movie-phenomenon. You are the only witness of it. How can you lose this understanding, this insight? *** *** *** This Place Is A Dream. Only A Sleeper Considers It Real. Then Death Games Like Dawn And You Wake Up Laughing At What You Thought Was Your Grief. -Rumi *** *** ***

See the mind.

You stand aloof from it. You are not the mind 'and the Self will remain over. ~Sri Ramana Maharshi

*** *** ***

If You Want To Make Something A Fast Reality, Write It Down. ~ABRAHAM If You Want To Make your belief system as if it belong to another, Write It Down. ~ Seth If You Want To examine and self inquiry your belief system as if it belong to another, Write It Down. ~ Seth

*** *** ***

Via and thanks "Maurice Frydman":

As long as you pay attention to ideas, your own or of others, you will be in trouble.

But if you disregard all teachings, all books, anything out into words and dive deeply within yourself and find yourself, this alone will solve all your problems and leave you in full mastery of every situation, because you will not be dominated by your ideas about the situation.

- Nisargadatta, I AM THAT ch 50

*** *** ***

Note to the empathy: Observe, don't absorb. *** *** *** The world painted on your screen of consciousness and is entirely your private world. Once you realize that the world is your own Projection, you are free of it. ~Nisargadatta Maharaj *** *** *** Life is the movie you see through your own unique eyes. It makes little difference what is happening out there. It’s how you take it that counts. ~Denis Waitley *** *** *** Experience is determined by yourself--- not the circumstances of your life. ~Gita Bellin *** *** *** In this 3d-life-movie, usually you consider it ‘ ‘true; real” & ‘me; mine; myself”,… specially your belief system about yourself, another people and world. *** *** *** A reflection of the watcher in the mind creates the sense of "I" and the person acquires an apparently independent existence. In reality there is no person, only the watcher identifying himself with the "I" and the "mine". The teacher tells the watcher: you are not this, there is nothing of yours in this, except the little point of "I am", which is the bridge between the watcher and his dream. "I am this, I am that" is dream, while pure "I am" has the stamp of reality on it. ~Nisargadatta Maharaj *** *** *** Losing the false ego is awareness and abiding firmly as awareness is true clarity. ~Sri Ramana Maharshi *** *** *** Unless you identify correctly who you are, how can you identify others correctly? Recognize your real Self - Nisargadatta Maharaj *** *** *** Who or what-really-you are??? You cannot transcend what you do not know. To beyond yourself you must know yourself. *** *** *** When you believe yourself to be a person, you see persons everywhere. In reality there are no persons, only threads of memories and habits. At the moment of realization the person ceases. ~ Nisargadata Maharaj *** *** *** The jnani is the supreme and also the witness. He is both being and awareness. In relation to consciousness he is awareness. In relation to the universe he is pure being. ~Nisargadatta Maharaj. *** *** *** In this 3d-life-movie, usually you consider it ‘ ‘true; real” & ‘me; mine; myself”,… specially your belief system about yourself, another people and world. *** *** *** Write all your belief system down, make list about your belief system. Examine, self inquiry your belief system as if it belong to another people’s. *** *** *** Don't go off to sleep as a slave to the mind; be its master. Form this habit, become absolutely detached and master of your mind. *** *** *** So…: Leave others alone for some time and examine yourself. There are so many things you do not know about yourself – what are you, who are you, how did you come to be born, what are you doing now and why, where are you going, what is the meaning and purpose of your life, your death, your future? Have you a past, have you a future? How did you come to live turmoil and sorrow, while your being strives for happiness and peace? These are weighty matters and have to be attended to first. ~Nisargadatta Maharaj *** *** *** In this 3d-life-movie. The moment we stop pick up our thoughts about our world are ‘true; real” & ‘me; mine; myself”, we stop being attached to our past and we find the space to let go of ideas that no longer serve us. *** *** *** Many of your problems now result from spiritual ignorance. ~Seth *** *** *** If you are really a little alert, scientifically observant, methodical, systematic study, then sooner or later you will come out of it -- because how can you go on repeating? *** *** *** Remove all titles.. no matter of what kind of holy scriptures/gurus/religion/moral And their preach/teachers can help me and mankind as an alignment-deliberate-creator??? *** *** *** Spirituality does not come from moral/religion. *** *** *** You're gonna piss off a lot of people when you start doing what's best for you. *** *** *** Never put someone or me in a egoism-standard-box, said kiss ass is most high duty, saint, good deeds replace another's Source. *** *** *** Real beautiful/saints/virtue/moral/religion is one heart don’t kiss any kind of dark tyrant ruler’s ass, no matter of who or what. *** *** *** Rare is moral/religion not use egoism-standard-box, said kiss ass is most high duty, saint, good deeds replace another's Source. *** *** *** Spirituality does not come from moral/religion. It comes from our soul. We must stop confusing moral/religion and spirituality. Moral/religion is a set of rules, regulations, and rituals created by humans, which were supposed to help people spiritually. Due to human imperfection religion has become corrupt, political, divisive and a tool for power struggle. Spirituality is not theology or ideology. is simply a way of life, pure and original as given by the Most High. Spirituality is a network linking us to the Most High, the universe, and each other. *** *** *** Seth: You create your own reality according to your beliefs and expectations, and you do so individually and en masse. Until you learn this, you learn little. You are a multidimensional personality, and within you lies all the knowledge about yourself, your challenges and problems, that you will ever need to know. Others can help you in their own way...but my mission is to remind you of the incredible power within your own being, and to encourage you to recognize and use it. - Seth, The Nature of Personal Reality *** *** ** You are walking into the future of whatever you do with your mind. So where is your mind? *** *** ** If I have a little bit wisdom, I'll assume everything I've learned from my childhood is “wrong”(Maya; illusion; fake; false), Never pick up it as 'me; mine; myself' & 'real; true', unless them can Pass through myself self inquiry~~~^^ *** *** ** Why do you still consider the phenomena? See who the Seer is. BE HERE NOW. *** *** *** As a 3d-life-movie-phenomenon. You are the only witness of it. How can you lose this understanding, this insight? *** *** *** This Place Is A Dream. Only A Sleeper Considers It Real. Then Death Games Like Dawn And You Wake Up Laughing At What You Thought Was Your Grief. -Rumi *** *** *** Physical pain is not about something being wrong with your body. Pain is about Energy Alignment or mis-Alignment. Pain is just exaggerated negative emotion. It means there is some conflict between your desire and your belief. It means there is some conflict between what you are wanting and what you are actively and often thinking. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Veronica Deshler”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** You are walking into the future of whatever you do with your mind. So where is your mind? *** *** *** The best indicator of your level of consciousness is how you deal with life's challenges when they come. Through those challenges, an already unconscious person tends to become more deeply unconscious, and a conscious person mere intensely conscious. You can use a challenge to awaken you, or you can allow it to pull you into even deeper sleep. The dream of ordinary unconsciousness then turns into a nightmare. ~Eckhart Tolle *** *** *** Seeing unhealthy patterns in your family/social and deciding that those patterns end with you and will not be passed down to future generations is an extremely brave and powerful decision. *** *** *** So…: I deleted all the perfect repeat the work-eat-entertainment-sleep-kiss ass-cycle people yesterday. Good morning my friend! ~~^^ *** *** *** Because…: Connection doesn’t care about the laws of the land. Your soul/heart will be pulled to the place it belongs. *** *** *** Why do you still consider the phenomena? See who the Seer is. BE HERE NOW. *** *** *** As a 3d-life-movie-phenomenon. You are the only witness of it. How can you lose this understanding, this insight? *** *** *** This Place Is A Dream. Only A Sleeper Considers It Real. Then Death Games Like Dawn And You Wake Up Laughing At What You Thought Was Your Grief. -Rumi *** *** *** Via and thanks "Sangha of Love": The most you can know is "I am that." But the more you know that—if someone asks you, "What is that that you are?" You don’t know what that is. You can’t say what that is. You just know that it’s what you are. You can call it emptiness, or consciousness, or God, or spirit, but still there’s a certain mystery to it all. What can you know about nothing? When you realize you’re the great emptiness, the great nothingness, the great pregnant nothingness from which everything comes and to which everything goes—what can you really know about nothing? We can only know something about something. Like, when nothing becomes a flower: now you can know something, or you can pretend like you know something. It’s a flower, it’s orange, it’s red, it’s beautiful, it’s ugly, it’s fresh, it’s dying. You can know, or think you know, something as soon as something comes into form. You can know the texture, or the feel, or the taste, the touch, the sense of the thing. But you can’t know anything, ultimately, about the unknown, about your true nature. All you can know is that you are that. 💙 Adyashanti *** *** ** I want mastermind with Source. I want to come into alignment with other humans who also want to align with Source! ~AH *** *** ** Socrate's Way： Mirror the most simplest “Cosmic Principle”(Tao; Source; Ma at; Brahma) in every area ….^^ *** *** **

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vanaera · 6 years

Text

Your Side of the Bed

Synopsis | Hoseok will bask in the crumpled sheets of your bed until you learn to erase your past’s name on the duvet and replace it with his. It’s been long since the sheets were changed. He’s got a better one, a much warmer one and he hopes you could see the permanence laced in its every thread.

Genre | slight angst, fluff

Wordcount | 1,749

Play Your Side of the Bed by Loote

Have you ever felt happy in something that you’re not supposed to want?

The eight o’ clock daylight seeps through your blinds, stirring Hoseok from his sleep with an answer on the tip of his tongue. The question has long loomed over his head for some time now, the answer clear to him everytime he has to assure himself of his stand in your life. But today was too early and what he can only do is look at you - hair a mess, bare face, tired body engulfed in the sheets by his side. Hoseok smiles and tucks the few stray strands of your hair behind your ear. The steady rise and fall of your chest makes him reminisce the steady pounding of last night’s rain.

The clouds weren’t gray that evening; a darkish cerulean even, yet the rain was heavy, dropping on the pavement like thunderous claps, hitting the hood of his car in a clangorous downpour. But to him, it was ironically mellifluous – to find beauty and calm in tragedy and noise. It shouldn’t even be therapeutic to him. He liked it in a kind of a pathological extent. And the same goes for you. He turns his head to look at you picking at the bits of the worn rubber on the handle by your side. He refuses to have another image of you leaving so he speaks up, “Have you ever liked something that is quite mismatched?”

The pale peach of your lips curve a little. Your wine red lipstick he knew you always liked has long served its purpose. The hour ago was intimate, having you straddled on his lap to “just kiss,” peppering his jaw in butterfly kisses and breathy wonders of “I really like the way your lips feel on mine.” Your lips are satin on his heated skin and wasted no time reciprocating the intensity you paced, devouring your mewls and moans with the plush of his chapped lips. But what he liked most was the aftermath, the scene after the onslaught of his affection on you – tousled hair, smeared lipstick, and trying to catch the breath you lost because of him. Toning down your aggressiveness, balancing out your edges with his softer ones, he thinks you’re pretty in peach. Well, you’re pretty everyday. It’s just the way you looked now that only he is privileged to see, was stupefyingly beautiful.

Your voice makes him divert his eyes from the plush of your lips toward your eyes. You let out an amused laugh, “Stop staring at me,” and Hoseok giggles. Grinning wide, you answer his question, “I don’t know, maybe some of your parts.”

"Why just parts of me?“ He chuckles, quickly drowning the bitterness that unexpectedly dropped in the pit of his stomach.

You look at the gray ceiling of his car, pondering on thoughts warring in your head. You always tend to think too much and Hoseok knows this ever since he’s been by your side in high school. Until now when you’re living the rest of your prime years as adult-like the both of you could be. He’s still wishing you could let some of them bother his mind too, so you won’t need to always endure the mess your thoughts create. Someday, if you’d let him, he’d always gladly do so.

He watches you clear your throat, body angling to your side to completely fill his view of you. You lean, body facing towards him just in time he did the same. “You make me…feel happy. Sometimes,” you quickly add, “Especially when I need to. Yeah, you do that to me.“

Legs crossed on the leather of the passenger seat, your fingers twiddling the frayed ends of your plum-dyed hair. He’s only a few inches away from you, fingers aching to tuck those strands behind your ear. But he’s not in that place…yet. He keeps his hand on the wheel and focusses on the monotonous symphony of the wipers for his beaten-up car and beaten-up heart.

It’s only hopeless because he knows there are weaknesses that will weigh down on your back until you’re on your knees. He just chose the wrong time to give in. “Why sometimes?”

Especially when you are his weakness.

"Hmm?“

Hands leaving the wheel, he leans on the side of his locked door, fully facing you. It’s no use to refuse when temptation and desire has always been in his reach. "I said, why sometimes? Don’t I make you happy always?”

You only look at his imploring eyes, snickering before you tore them to settle on the fogged glass of the window. “I’m happy, Hoseok, I really am. It’s just-”

"Him?"

You pause before affirming, "…yeah."

And someone else happened to be your weakness. Someone who left you for another woman. It was two years ago, why are you still holding on your pointless hope like a naïve child? Hoseok clenches his fist, nails digging crescents in his palms. He wishes he could also do those impressions on your mind just to wake you to your senses, but he can’t do so. He loves you and he can’t hurt you that bad. He can only say something that has been established true from the start. “You know he’s not coming back, right?”

"I know, I just-“

"Wait?” He faces you one more time; you’re still looking outside. “You know you’ve been doing that for a very long time.” Waiting for nothing, refusing to look at him - he meant both of these but he doubts if you could actually notice them. Your eyes had been long blinded by the scraps of his so-called love.

“I know.”

The prolonged silence suffocates the air conditioning inside the confines of his car. He revs up the engine and pushed his foot on the pedal. He talks about his yesterday’s dance class and you animatedly joined him with another misadventure in your office. He’s always been good in diversion.

By the time the downpour has receded into a shower, Hoseok has already pulled the vehicle in front of your apartment. You beckoned him to stay for the night, just like always, and he finds himself stumbling inside the threshold of your home.

But last night was different, and he could assure that because he felt it too.

You didn’t ask him to make you forget, to erase him from your mind, to make love to you. It was the first for the countless nights you invited him to fill the empty space of the bed on your side. It has always been lonely to keep a large fraction by your side empty and cold. For the years that has passed before you met him and after he left, Hoseok has been trying to tell you that your bed is not designed to just hold two lovers engaged in physical passion. For overnight tornados of desire and lust cannot warm up a frozen heart when it could easily leave wreckage and ruins that may lacerate the fragile organ.

Hoseok admits to his faults - he’s given in too many times to your pleas, a hipocrisy in act when he’s trying to keep you away from the toxic waters but is willing to toe them until he’s knee-deep if you ask him to - an excuse to touch you, a motive for him to love you. His Achilles’ heel you truly are.

"Can you just…lie by my side? You don’t have to do anything, I just-“

"Need someone to fill his space?” Hoseok didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter before he could think about what he spewed.

But it’s not what’s on your mind. “No, I just need you to be by my side.”

Hoseok was astounded and can only nod.

That night, he curled to your side and pulled you close to him, the warmth emanating from his chest lulling you to sleep. In the thin line of consciousness and sleep as he closed his eyes, Hoseok felt you tug his hand draped on your waist to lay them on top of yours. One, two, three - you enclosed your fingers and locked his hand with yours. Like what lovers do. Like what he usually dreamt of doing with you. And while the night is dead, Hoseok pressed a loving kiss on your hairline.

The indigo dips and creases on your bed are now cream and white and Hoseok looks at you snuggled deep in your sheets. Loving you may hurt but it’s not enough to drive him away. You turn to your side, facing him, and still asleep. Looking at you with peace unusually painted on your un-creased brows and parted mouth, the porch of your chest vulnerable and opened wide, Hoseok decides to drape himself onto you, to embrace and inhale the scent of you with his hands wound around you like the lover who’s capable to hold his love in his arms. He can only grant his heart some peace when you’re sleeping, all his wants and needs muddled in a plethora of affections he could only lay on your doorstep:

I want to be your friend you can hopelessly fall in love with, the one you could take willingly into your arms, into your bed, into the world you keep to your head unvisited by anyone. I need to love you and know how to touch you – how I could make you stare at your pains in one of those sleepless nights and only feel my love supersede anything that is contrary.

And Hoseok could only wait until you decide to bask in the daylight, to go out and pick up everything you need to know about him, you, and the both of you.

Have you ever felt happy in something that you’re not supposed to want?

You slowly opened your eyes, meeting his.

He doesn’t need to think twice; the answer has always been clear. Loving you is something he has always wanted and needed. He’ll always be happy when it comes to you, regardless of conditions and conventionalities - he will be happy through and through, no second thoughts, no regrets. Just you and him, him and you. You don’t have to toss and turn anymore.

Hoseok smiles. “Good morning, Y/N.”

You return his smile, your hand in his hold squeezing his. “Good morning, Hoseok.”

He would wait.

What are you doing?

Re-arranging the furniture.

Why so sudden?

It’s been a while since I gave my home a make-over.

View more songs in my masterlist

A/N | Hello hons! I experimented a new writing style for this and hmm, I’m not sure whether to be happy with it or not (everything feels too new!) Anyway, I liked the new experience! Hope you liked reading this!

BTW!!! I have 3 consecutive exams coming up this week (uni is killing me) so I may not be able to post your requests soon but be assured I’m working on them! (I’m actually already editing some of them as my breather in-between studying) I just don’t want to rush them because I want to give you guys a good content! :D So for the mean time, enjoy my following posts that I queued for these weeks that I will be freaking busy studying and writing papers :’D

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witchbitchpolemic-blog · 5 years

Text

First Magic - heal theyself

Peoplegenerally want to do witchcraft to change what is around them. ‘Make him love me’, ‘make me rich’, ‘save my friend from dying’. These are things outside your transmission range when you start. If you commit enough of your consciousness to the path, your range may extend to these things. But before that is possible you need to bring your own being into your power. A leaky bucket cannot carry water to fill a well.

The leaky bucket

I’m porous. Specifically, I kinaesthetically receive the feelings in both the environment and the feelings of people I am connected to. Crowds make me feel jittery and unstable. I literally can’t breath around passive-aggressive people because while the talk is pleasant talk it feels like I am breathing in a heavy dark fog. Effectively, I am an extreme empath.

I have spent many years thinking this was a ‘gift’, something of great value, if only I could harness it. That was an egotistical delusion.

What is the leaky bucket?

It is not a gift, it is the product of deliberate psychic wounding by others. And it makes me a leaky bucket. Only when I can choose what energy I receive is it a gift.

To understand, think about babies. They scream when parents are tense or angry, even when the parent is ‘putting away’ their feelings to ‘comfort’ the child. In fact, the more the parent ‘comforts’ the screaming child, the more they scream. This is because the child has a soft energy barrier. The child has become a radio receiving and is broadcasting the parent’s transmission - their silent screams. Normally, as babies grow their energy body seals and hardens. They stop screaming.

Toddlers and very young children will still cry spontaneously when anyone else cries (I still have small child memories of the intense waves of grief that arrived from nowhere when another kid started to cry), but their boundaries become progressively firm.

The feeling wave

Think of feelings as a form of wave, like a radio wave. It has an effective range and a frequency you have to tune to. People whose energy boundaries have firmed generally don’t pick up these waves so intensely as the disrupt their lives. But for those of us whose boundary has been breached, these feelings can be so central that they disrupt our capacity to act - we have become the radio trying to be human.

How do boundaries get breached?

Boundaries are breached by others. Psychic attacks by the living send an unseen knife, or blade, pins or blunt object directly at our energy barrier. Sent hard enough, or for long enough and the barrier weakens and is broken. If the onslaught is continuous, part of a persons soul may flee, leaving a space for other things (undead and spirit entities) to occupy. Parents are a huge source of boundary damage. From hysteria, to repressed feelings to imposing their own identity on the child. Sometimes it is deliberate. We generally attribute this to mental illness, but it may also be that the parent (themselves damaged) has been infected by another entity.

What happens when boundaries are damaged?

This can manifest in mental imbalance (exhaustion, depression, confusion, indecision, voices) – this is where we expect to see it.

But it can also be seen in physical manifestations. Just because we are no longer in contact with a toxic person doesn’t mean we aren’t still picking up their frequency.

I had a friend who went through an ugly divorce. His partner had torn the relationship apart for reasons he couldn’t fathom. He blamed drugs connected to an illness she had been experienced, but really he had no idea. Emotionally he hadn’t resolved the breakdown, and while they never saw each other, he remained intensely connected. He developed a bad case of psoriasis. Psoriasis if you don’t know is a condition where, among other things, the skin breaks randomly, leaving sores. Once you have psoriasis it is normally a life sentence. About a year later he went on a holiday to the other side of the world. During the 1st week of his holiday the psoriasis miraculously disappeared. It wasn’t a miracle at all. He had moved himself out of his ex’s psychic transmission range.

Range

The range is very similar to a radio range. Within 200 meters you may well experience someone’s emotions intensely – even as if they were your own. Within 5 kilometers it will be clear. Within 20 kilometers it will be reliable. Within 60 kilometers it will fade in and out, like the annoying radio reception on a long country drive. Just as you are getting the groove it fades out and then cackles and fades in and then something else over-rides it.

Frequency

Frequency tuning involves connection with others. That can be anyone from your sister to the work colleague to the lover to the barman that you had a chat with last night as he was cleaning glasses (you are very likely to loose your tuning to his frequency very quickly). So for people with damaged barriers, now multiply the irritating country drive reception by the X number of people they have any connection with.

How do we fix porousness?

It is surprisingly simple.

Magical tools

The basic and essential tools of ‘magic’ are all made in the mind. Yes, there are advanced tools (dolls etc.) but they are useless without the skills. So for now all you need is the magic equivalent of hand tools. The mind contains the entire hand-tool set – and makes up new tools whenever it needs to.

Getting to the magical workshop

To start doing magic you need to enter into a space of spirit (an in-between space). This requires being fully focused.

My spirit workshop (my in-between space) is the place between waking and sleeping – the place where I can think consciously, see in spirit, see tools when I decide what I need to use, and critically, remember later.

But be aware, I didn’t look for this path. At some point I was given it, but even then it took a long time to understand what I had been given. Everyone is different.

If this road is not open to you, don’t waste time practicing to try using this route – there are others and none is more or less valuable than an other. If you are meant to have it, you will be given it when you are ready.

Meditation as a path

Meditation is the other way to reach a place where you can enter your spirit environment. Lay down, ensure you are relaxed and your clothes are loose, make sure it is quiet and there will be no interruptions. Look towards your third eye. Allow thoughts to wash across your mind rather than grabbing for them as they float past. When your mind feels still, look towards yourself. When you can see your body, think about what needs to be done.

Finding the concentration you need, can take a lot of practice. You can also use rhythmic drumming tapes if this helps. If it doesn’t work hang in there. At some stage it will just click into place. Until then, the true relaxation of your mind that comes with the mediation will in itself will make the rest of your life easier. So win/win and no time wasted.

How to heal your boundaries (this is actually really simple)

One morning I found myself in-between, and I looked down and saw deep slashes all over my body. I knew immediately that they were injuries to my energy body that allowed psychic attack and invasion. I immediately thought - ‘sew them up.’ I’m a practical sort of witch. It was an obvious solution.

So I took a needle and thread and I stitched the wounds together. As I was stitching another image superimposed. A lady in white rose from a laying position underneath the image, to sit upright on a horse (a medieval princess, but you may be someone else). She faded and I continued stitching until I could see that all the wounds had been closed – and then I immediately woke up.

How did I feel when I woke up? More balanced. Not perfect but better than I had been.

How did I feel the next day? Life threw a lot at me and I wasn’t able to completely deflect the sharp energy shards that were sent my way. Hey. That is life.

Did that work ‘magically’ fix my damaged energy body? No. Magic doesn’t equal immediate. Deep injuries need to be tended. I needed to go back there and stitch the wounds again, many times.

So what will you see when you go to that place?

Do you see wounds at all? If you do, are they infected? What sort of instrument do they look like they were made by?

Look for the appropriate removal/cleaning fixing tools. Tools are always available in spirit, you just have to imagine them and they are in your hands. So for an infection, look around for disinfectant.

You might see something entirely different.

Do you see people? If you want them to move away from you, do so in spirit. Damage them in the material world and you have damaged your Karma. But if you push them away in spirit, the material world will gently follow you - they just won’t matter so much.

Do you see some lost place that needs to be reclaimed? Is it a place or is an eternal place? An eternal place is home. A physical place may be a metaphor. Sometimes the two collide.

Whatever you see, if it is good let it be.

If you want to do magic that changes the material world, firstly heal theyself.

Blessings.

#magic #magick #pagan #wiccan #witchcraft #witch #healing #spell #spell casting #sharmanism #sharman

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breakingdownsu · 6 years

Text

Chorus Chapter Four

Note: This has been a busy week but I'm more or less back on track, thank goodness. I'm hoping to set up a blog soon to archive all of my writing in one place, along with any fanart I've received and anything else I've done over the last few years. When I started writing fanfics back in prehistoric times everyone had archives, webrings and mailing lists and I'm an old fashioned girl at heart sometimes. I'll link it once it's finished.

Double note: If you haven't already, I suggest you read A String of Pearls before continuing. Most of the OC characters I've written about there will be popping up here as well (and it includes the origins of Murder Pearl.)

…..

New to the list of things Steven had to be very worried about (along with Pearl's disappearance, the awful nightmares that were probably foreshadowing of something unpleasant and his dwindling supply of food) was that the unfortunately-named Murder Pearl would live up to that name at some point by turning on him.

As it was, she had found some sort of pole somewhere in the workshop and was methodically sharpening the end with blankly serene expression on her face. It was unbelievably creepy, and yet Ginger, who was sitting directly in the line of the sharpened pole should Murder Pearl decide to skewer someone with it, was calmly ignoring them both to fiddle with a holographic screen of data.

Complicating matters further was the third pearl in the workshop, the one Steven had healed with his magical spit. She was hiding under a table covered with a tarp, (and had been since she regained consciousness) the edges of her feet were the only part of her visible. He had been told in no uncertain terms by both Orthoclase and Ginger to leave her alone until her Jasper returned. He could hear her sniffling under there, and that was awkward on top of all the other awkwardness.

Distantly, Steven wondered if Garnet and Amethyst were worried. He had been gone for, he estimated, three days. They had left him alone during missions for longer periods of time, they had always been quite lackadaisical in this manner. He knew Greg would be worried by now, and probably Connie too. Sadie as well, and maybe the cool kids.

Maybe I should go back for a little while. Get more food, let everyone know I'm okay, tell them we have a plan...

Even as he thought about it he knew he couldn't. He was neck-deep in Homeworld's criminal underground, and if television had taught him one thing it was that criminals tended to disappear without a trace. If he left he probably wouldn't be able to find them again.

As he stewed, his stomach made its feelings known. Loudly.

Ginger swiveled in her chair.

“Are you unwell?” she asked, again with more curiosity than concern.

“Hah, no...I'm just kind of hungry...” he laughed nervously. Murder Pearl was also looking at him.

“Hungry?” Ginger asked, tilting her head and blinking owlishly.

“Yeah, uh...where I come from, we put things in our mouths....”

...he didn't miss both of the pearls flinching ever so slightly....

“...to give us energy and make us feel...happy, I guess. I brought food but I'm running kind of low now,” he finished.

Ginger hummed thoughtfully, and Murder Pearl laid down her murder stick for a moment.

“The higher caste gems ingest gallium and compound mix for recreational purposes,” Murder Pearl said. “I don't think it gives them energy...”

“No, it doesn't,” Ginger agreed. “But those are chemical...it sounds like the Steven requires...organic matter?”

“Just Steven is fine,” Steven piped in.

“I will think on this,” Ginger told him. “We cannot have you unwell at this stage in the plan.”

“Wow, okay, thanks!” Steven blurted out gratefully. It probably wouldn't be anything like a donut or a cheeseburger but at least it would be something...

Orthoclase burst into the workshop then in her usual loud fashion. At some point she had donned some sort of chain-link head decoration and painted triangles under her eyes, and the little kid in Steven for a moment reflected on how effortlessly cool she was. She was carrying what looked like a burlap sack and tossed out the contents on the operating table.

“Jasper came through for us,” she said with a careless but triumphant shrug. “Six pearls, all deregistered.”

Steven peered over at them, until Orthoclase beckoned him closer so he could examine them closely. One was cracked badly, one was covered in scratches but apart from that they were all in good shape. One was significantly smaller than the others.

“That's a seed pearl,” Orthoclase explained as Steven gingerly touched the miniature one.

“Seed pearl?”

“Yeah, it was the fashion for a while to make them smaller,” she continued. “Lasted about four orbits before they were discontinued. I thought they'd all been processed but I guess not.”

Homeworld really was a terribly strange place. Gems talked about making other gems in miniature, like some sort of weird hobby.

“Those two are damaged,” Steven said, changing the subject. “Can I heal them?”

“Go ahead,” Orthoclase said with a sweeping gesture. “Less work for me if you do.”

Licking his palm, he fixed the cracked pearl and then the scratched one. For good measure, he fixed the others too, just in case they had damage he couldn't see.

“Remind me to get you filling some tubes for me before you go back to Planet Whatsit,” Orthoclase said, sinking onto the couch and throwing one foot into Ginger's lap.

…..

A few hours and one fitful nap on the couch later, the pearls regenerated.

Steven ended up naming them (in his head) after the Disney Princesses because that was all he could think of. One of them (he thought it was the one that had been scratched to pieces) had a long elaborate braid that reached her ankles so once he had dubbed her Rapunzel the rest of them naturally followed.

The one that looked like she had actual gold threads running through her hair: Aurora.

The pale blue one in tattered indigo and the remains of a fancy hairstyle: Cinderella, obviously.

The silver one with the long white hair: Elsa. She was the one who had been badly cracked.

The pale green one with the red hair....he kept switching between Anna and Ariel. It was hard to know until she opened her mouth.

And the seed pearl, who stood no taller than Steven's waist....Thumbelina. (He knew it wasn't Disney but it might as well have been.)

“I assume you all know the plan,” Orthoclase announced, confusing Steven because not one pearl had said a word to anyone.

Still, they all nodded in perfect unison. Even Murder Pearl.

“Great. If you have any questions, ask Pearl. In fact, I have a question right now. What in Core's name are we supposed to do now?”

She punctuated her question by poking Ginger's shoulder with the tip of her foot.

“I have located a loom to centre our structure on,” Ginger replied, barely responding to Orthoclase's needling. “It is isolated, and large enough to shelter over fifty pearls.”

“Sounds great,” Orthoclase drawled. “What's wrong with it?”

“The owner will take some convincing...”

“I knew it...”

“But I believe we have something she wants.”

“Hm,” Orthoclase mused. “Okay, we can work with that. Get her on the line...”

“She won't respond. We have to go there ourselves. And she may not let us in.”

Orthoclase sighed, flopped across the couch. All the pearls kept their silence, but Steven noticed their hands and fingers moving gently. Maybe they were nervous. Steven certainly was.

“Well, we might as well try,” she said at last. “We'll go next cycle, suns are going down.”

With that, she was gone. There were crashing sounds in the back of the workshop where she was clearly setting up to work for the rest of the night. That left Steven alone with the pearls.

“So,” he began, addressing the one he dubbed Elsa. “I'm glad to see I was able to fix that crack in your gem...are you feeling better?”

“Yes, quite,” she said faintly. “Thank you.”

“What happened? Is it okay for me to ask, I don't mean to be rude...”

“That's okay,” she said in that same oddly serene way they all seemed to have of talking. “I was owned by several Jaspers, they did not treat me gently.”

That sick squirmy feeling was getting to be something Steven was used to. There were implications rife in that little sentence but he couldn't dwell on it, for the sake of his own sanity.

I need to find Pearl and get the hell out of here.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled lamely.

“Not your doing,” Elsa replied in a way that was almost sweet.

“Did you fix my scratches too?” Rapunzel asked, so quietly he could barely hear her.

“Yes, I did,” Steven replied. “Is that okay with you?”

“Quite,” she said. “But my owner may be confused when I am returned. If I am returned.”

If. Why if?

“Why's that?” Steven asked, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself.

“She made most of the scratches.”

Steven looked away, struggling to find words. It was only then that he noticed that Thumbelina had at some point climbed down from her spot on the operating table and was kneeling at the gap between the floor and the tarp that covered the Jasper's pearl. She was silent but her fingers were moving. The sniffling that had been a constant since the pearl woke up had stopped.

…..

When Homeworld's suns rose again, they set out for...wherever they were going next. Steven ate the last of his rations, hoping Ginger would come up with something for him to do foodwise soon. They passed a checkpoint, and as usual Ginger was checked with that horrible machine.

“Why can't they just ask her to open her mouth?” Steven whispered to Orthoclase as they watched.

“Pearls won't open their mouths, even under orders,” Orthoclase whispered back.

Steven blinked. He hadn't really expected an answer, just assumed the officials did it to be mean.

“Why?” he asked, baffled.

“No-one really knows,” Orthoclase responded. “It's just some sort of pearl-wide trait, they can't do it even if they want to. It means you have to crack their jaws for checks and certain repairs, and they'd probably choose to avoid that if they could...”

With every passing moment, life just seemed to get bleaker and bleaker for pearls. Where would it end?

Ginger was rubbing her jaw when she was returned.

“I think that Topaz has a grudge against me,” Orthoclase said as they walked away. “And she takes it out on you. Sorry about that.”

“That's okay,” Ginger replied. She sounded tired.

They walked for a long time. The public transport system only brought them so far, and it was clear whoever they were going to see was well-off. The residences they passed got bigger and bigger the further they went, until they arrived at a truly enormous estate on the outer edge of the city.

Orthoclase whistled as she rang the doorbell.

“This is really something,” she hissed. “I feel like I'm going to be tossed in isopod just for being here...”

The door creaked open, and standing in front of them was yet another pearl.

“My owner is not taking visitors today.”

“Yeah, we figured that,” Orthoclase drawled. “But we have an urgent matter to discuss with her so we aren't going to let her blow us off.”

“Just close the blasted door, Pearl!” a voice shouted from inside the estate.

“I suggest you give her different orders unless you want me to yank her right here and now,” Orthoclase called back.

There was a moment of silence, during which Steven didn't know where to look. He hadn't expected Orthoclase to make outright threats...

...and then a sharp tapping noise heralded the arrival of another gem, who gently pushed the pearl out of the way. Steven looked up...

Lapis?

...no, it's not.

This gem looked much older, far more severe than Lapis even at her angriest. It put Steven in mind of the dowager queen of some exiled nation, or something. She was dressed in what looked like an evening gown, long and straight, and her hair was pinned back immaculately in a perfectly formed bun.

The pearl looked almost like a daughter or a younger sister of this dowager. She was dressed in a shorter dress with a fuller skirt, her hair simply tied back with a green ribbon.

Neither of them looked like the kind of gem Orthoclase would ever associate with.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the Amethyst squad,” the Lapis growled, squaring up to this gem who could easily break her in half.

“Well, Pearl? Have you got a good reason for her?” Orthoclase asked Ginger.

“Yes.”

The Lapis turned to Ginger, confusion masking her annoyance.

“We have need of your pearl's skills,” Ginger began.

Incredibly, the Lapis' face softened. She looked from Ginger to her own pearl and back.

“In return, we can offer you music that has never been heard by any gem before,” Ginger finished.

Orthoclase shot a look down at Steven, a what-the-hell-kind-of-plan-is-this sort of look.

But the Lapis sighed, straightened and opened her door fully.

“You'd best come inside then,” she said. “Don't touch anything.”

#steven universe #steven universe fanfiction #breaking down universe #a string of pearls canon #dehumanization #orthoclase and pearl

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worrentigre · 6 years

Text

Rhuli’a’s Trial Epilogue (RP Scene)

((https://youtu.be/2MIPBvddXlI <-- scene BGM))

Outside of the hallway is a small courtyard that overlooks the other side of the mountain from the top. The scenery shows a wide view of the dry hills in the distance, looking out at the peaks. Worren stands there looking outward, and does not turn to face Rhuli'a. "Aren't you going to try it on?" He simply asks.

Rhuli'a frowned. Were his movements and intent that easily readable? Or mayhap it was...

Stripping proved easy enough. The miqo'te had quite a few breakaways for his tunic in case of losing the upper hand in a grappling situation. As his red and black regalia tumbled to the stone, he opened his arms.

A strange sense of calm flew through him, as if the wind atop the mountain held some sort of secret he should give pause and listen to. It crept across his corded muscle, wound tight like a steel trap across his body. Adorning the left side of his torso was a tattoo that started from above his left pectoral and ended just above his waistline.

A giant, purple, screaming griffin was wrought upon his skin. Talons extended, wings tucked behind as it lunged towards some unknown opponent, it was every bit as regal as the crest adopted by the royal family of Ala Mhigo.

A symbol Rhuli'a kept close to his heart.

Unfolding his cyclas, the newly ordained monk hesitated slightly. This was it. The long journey of almost fifteen cycles ended here. And in its place began a new venture.

In a flourish, Rhuli'a adorned what he considered to be his birthright. Worren is glancing over his shoulder, and as Rhuli'a begins to change, he turns around. He admires the man in his new prize for a bit before placing his right fist into his left hand, just like he showed before the trial started. He does not bow, however. He just holds this, and waits.

Rhuli'a starts slightly.

"Thankee. I truly mean this, from the heart of my hearts."

Mimicking his master, he faced him fully, and then dipped his head.

Ever so slightly, as to not take his eyes off of him, hints of -something- behind those mismatched orbs. Worren follows suit, giving a small bow. "Welcome to the Fists of Rhalgr. Know that this is not the start of your journey. It started long ago when this became your goal. Your training began the second time we met. I was not toying with you. And not only was I making sure you would be fit to walk this path, I was already training your mind and thought process."

He then stands up straight. "It is much more than physical." He taps the side of his head. "It has very much to do with this. The body is just the vehicle. Kodaro and I watched you during your trial. Had I put you through that in the state that you were in when we first met, you would not have made it. Those ghosts of our fallen brothers would have seen to that; I have no control over them. But, you are learning. You're not above asking for help. You held your anger and did not strike out at me when I left myself open to you. Even after what I've said, you still had the clarity to see what is in front of you."

His hands then move behind his back, as they usually do when he starts lecturing. "You swallowed your pride. This is good. Our fallen brothers in there, they are right, y'know? Politics, sides, good and bad, all of these rhetorics serve to keep us separate. We are individuals, and will always disagree on something. It is in our nature, separates us from same thinking machines. We cannot let these things break our bond of brotherhood like they did in the past. Light? Shadow? It no longer matters, save for how Rhalgr decides to impart to you his gifts. My need for order is so to keep our bonds strong and avoid the mindless chaos that still has us strewn about the lands. Do not let the actions of the past bind you and dictate your future. You speak of freedom. So, free yourself from this self imposed burden."

He pauses a moment, and then looks at Rhuli'a seriously. "Do you dislike those on the light sect of your own free will, even though you do not know most of them, or do you dislike it because history tells you to?" Rhuli'a narrowed his eyes near the end of Worren's speech. Hands falling from the salute, he coldly crossed them over his chest as he contemplated on how best to answer. His gaze fell to the side as he began to speak, his tone even and guarded.

"I do not like or dislike any within our order for their creed, 'tis not my place to judge. One thing is for certain, I am sure of it."

Rhuli'a pointed at Worren sharply, almost as if in accusation. Though the newly ordained Fist knew well enough that the Highlander was of Shadow, he nonetheless barked out the following,

"Rhalgr turned his back upon our country and order the moment those of the Light fell in with the ruling family. I am sure of it. 'Tis why he punished us so by not coming to our aid when both Ruiner and Garlemald fell upon us. I will -never- let that happen again, no matter how alienated or ostracized I may be for following my convictions. There will never be an imbalance between our philosophies again. I am sworn -- nay, compelled to see harmony. I care not if I am but one against a thousand, for I will lead with a zeal equal to all who oppose. Shadow is my Way, Worren, and so it will remain."

Calming, he stepped back, once again folding his arms, uncomfortable with the situation.

"Destruction and chaos go hand in hand. With no chaos, it becomes too systematic, oppressive even. There is beauty in constant bewilderment."

Looking to the side again, the Keeper fell silent. Not speaking unless spoken to.

Kodaro clucked his tongue as he strolled casually in to the chamber behind Rhuli'a, fingers laced behind his head and speaking in a tone disparately out of sorts with his surroundings. "Hey! Cyclas are a good look on ya, and from what I could see on the cliffs, you did well. A bit lacking in finesse, but it takes all sorts right? Sounds like you haven't grasped all of what you're saying, though, about harmony and whatnot. See, Light and Shadow sects? Neither can exist alone and represent the Path in its entirety. Unlike Brother Worren and most of the folks he's trained up, I started off Light and the difference between us... well, there's really not one." The Seeker continues his pacing to stand alongside Worren, though his posture remains relaxed. "Light can't exist without casting Shadow, and Shadows can't exist without Light. Same goes with destruction, in way; without wisdom to guide it, it's meaningless. The Path can't be fully realized without both aspects." Worren remains stone faced. His voice comes out cool, but sternly. "You'd do well not to confuse confidence and pride with hubris and reckless delusions of grandeur. Rhalgr turned his back on us because we turned our backs on ourselves. You know as well as I that there was no one side being right and wrong back then. One group allowed themselves to be at the beck and call of the monarchy as a way to bring glory to the Fists more openly to the people of Ala Mhigo. The other group would rather bring glory to the Fists by remaining true to Rhalgr and only Rhalgr, not Ala Mhigo or it's ruling body. Both sides have went their separate ways, bickering all the while."

He then brings his arms around and crosses them in front of his chest. "Think about it clearly. Both sides weakened themselves, because they could not find a way to co-exist on what they thought was the right way to represent Rhalgr. Old fashioned and out dated thinking. There is no more monarchy, and I highly doubt there will be a new one in its place. Even so, it has already begun with the new generation of Fists: to protect and support the people of Ala Mhigo. We will not allow ourselves to make the same mistake that was made back then."

He turns and nods to Kodaro, but is still speaking to Rhuli'a. "You'll see what I mean eventually. Viewing destruction as only an instrument of chaos is a bit short sighted."

He turns his attention back to the man. "Destruction also requires balance. Just like we do. Each of our chakra is halved. We need both to realize our full potential." He then smiles. "In any rate, congratulations on passing the trial and surviving. You are one of us. Your new uniform is not mandatory outside of formalities, but I highly suggest wearing it while you train. The threads have special properties that I will explain when next we meet for your first official training session. That is, unless you decide to research for yourself. And remember, hang onto that crystal. It will be important for the training as well." Kodaro adds, "You're strong, no denyin' that. Wouldn't dream of it. But it seems like you're holding yourself back, gettin' in the way of your own potential, whether you're doin' consciously or not. Congratulations on your Trial, but the real hard work starts now." Kodaro grinned and tapped his index finger on his temple "Sometime when you're able, I'd like you to come train with me; more specifically, I'd like you to come meditate with me. Making your body stronger is easy, it's getting your mind working in tandem that's the hard part."

Rhuli'a looked as if he had more to say on his interpretation of their faith, yet held his tongue, for once. Unperturbed by Kodaro's appearance, he didn't even pay the miqo'te any attention until Worren waa finished speaking.

Blinking in surprise at the invitation, he nodded his head in acceptance.

"I'll not shirk the path I've set myself upon. But I must warn you both I have drafted plans on starting a company within Ul'dah. I seek to use my gains from my current work to steer a course of my own. While my dedication to this purpose is among my chief concerns, it would be remiss of me to while away frivolously while there are those who seek to pledge themselves to me."

Recognizing his dismissive tone, he frowned, seemingly upset with himself.

"Apologies, if I seem blunt. 'Twas a trying trial, on top of a trying week. Change stresses the soul, mind and body simultaneously, I've found..."

Clenching his fist, he stared at it. This This was probably the most deadly weapon he could wield. And, it was more than likely going to be clenching quill, rather than hora in the coming weeks.

Snapping out of his trance, he eyed both men, saluting as he did so before, with Worren.

"Thankee both for aiding in my path." Worren nods, then places his fist into his palm, giving a light bow. "Remember these words, but also remember to stay true to yourself. If you truly believe that what you say is your path to your enlightenment, then by all means, walk it. We are simply guides, as everyone must walk their own path. If that means Rhalgr will make you a hero of the Ala Mhigan people, then so be it." He then straightens up. "And one other thing. Get a lot of rest. I highly suggest sleeping in tomorrow and taking the day off. Your aether stores need to recharge and your body needs to heal." Rhuli'a returned the gesture, once again never letting his eyes leave the Highlander.

Giving a satisfied grunt, he spoke.

"Aye. I'll heed your advice. If there's naught else..."

Rhuli'a cast his gaze about for an exit, and, if he found one, would start towards it. Worren simply nods and watches him go. He then turns his attention to Kodaro. "What do are your thoughts on him? Do you think I'm making the right decision in taking in one so volatile?" Kodaro: "Better to take him in to the fold where he can learn and grow, right? M'sure there's some old adage about a fire burning unchecked being more dangerous than one tended or something like that." Worren: "Mm. And we're the lucky ones, heh heh. Yes, we. I'm gonna ask you to help. Maybe some of your unyielding optimism will rub off on him. Then again, I did get you riled up during your own trial." He then moves to leave as well. "Besides. We're all in this together."

@the-original-rel @moralistcyclops@syelirakaisuri@thornedblossom @flamesonhammersmith@crooked-tarot-rp@astralagency @valentinoix@interdimensionalpeacekeeping@florihilda @dynamitecowboy@chiyohoshi@thetaleofoldmanmaruud @supermeganick@grandmastream@jancisstuff @berrodarmstrong @nhara-tia @cfs-melkire

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #monk rp #worren #Rhuli'a Kanjun #Kodaro Ba'rococo

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morethannotenough · 3 years

Text

...there we were.

Well, I ruined it! Within about 7 months of meeting my goal I have gained every. single. ounce. back.

Frustrated, disgusted, disappointed, angry... these don’t even begin to explain what I’m feeling. The back pain, the shortness of breath, the fatigue, it’s all back too. What’s killing me is my mind is still obsessed with that goal, but I can’t motivate my body to do anything about it. That’s not to say I’m not trying. Things are just going to be a little more complicated this time, because clearly the whole “well I’ll just not eat for 6 months” approach to weight loss ISN’T WORKING, and I understand why now, which helps, but also means I have to address some gigantic, well-established thought processes. That ish is hard.

That being said, I do think I’m making a little bit of progress, and I’d like to kind of track it here if I have the willpower to keep writing. I use to write in a journal every day, but I felt like it kept me stewing in my negative emotions too much (because what else would a 16-year-old girl write about except her emotional turmoil?!), so I stopped and have been hesitant to pick up the habit again. Also... I’m an adult with responsibilities now, so spending hours a day pouring my soul out to the internet isn’t really an option anymore. I’ve thought about doing some sort of daily or weekly blog/journal/whatever during this whole process, but like everything else in my life, I put it off. What a great self-deprecating segue!

So the first thing I think I’ve figured out is that I have **undiagnosed** (that’s important, I’m not trying to claim anything here, it just all makes too much sense to not be at least a possibility) ADHD. I remember wondering this in high school. I even remember telling my mom once that I thought I had it. She immediately offered to get me tested, and I refused, thinking there wasn’t really anything they could do to help me. I kinda want to go back and shake that girl now. What I didn’t realize then, and wouldn’t realize until just a few months ago, is that ADHD is SO MUCH MORE than just an inability to pay attention to things and being easily distracted. It messes with your entire life. Your productivity, your executive function (the part of your brain that tells you to start the thing you want to do), your relationships, your time-management skills, your hyperfixations that take over your entire life but only last for a finite period of time, your dopamine reception, all of it. That last one is especially important. If I’m correct, and I do have ADHD, it means that my brain doesn’t produce enough dopamine, so I am constantly looking for more. You know what gives an awesome, instant dopamine boost? Eating carbs and sugar.

I think I’ve had this for a long time and I subconsciously learned from a young age, both from the midwestern food culture (celebrating? food! grieving? food! stressed? let’s get some food! bored? food!) telling me that any kind of emotion can be improved with food, and my sneaky little ADHD friend compounding the comfort/reward aspects of those food solutions, that food will make me feel good, no matter what else is going on. Throw in the fact that I’ve been slightly overweight my whole life, and while I was not actively bullied persay, I was passively bullied (by myself and others) enough that I was already insecure (it was called “shy” at that time) by the age of about 7. We’ll go into all of that later because it played more of a part than I originally gave it credit for. Anyway, ADHD has a lot of what are called co-morbid disorders, which are basically conditions that are likely to occur with an ADHD diagnosis. These can include depression, anxiety, OCD, oppositional defiant disorder, learning disabilities, executive function disabilities, aaaaand eating disorders, especially binge eating disorder. Binge eating disorder (BED) with anorexic and bulimic tendencies is what my current diagnosis is, I think. At least the BED part. What a coincidence.

Now, I’m not trying to say that my current weight is all due to my potentially existing ADHD. I clearly made some choices along the way to get here, but I have spent so many hours and sleepless nights wondering WHY I can’t just ‘eat healthier’ or stick to a diet and lose the weight. Why do I struggle so much with these things that other people are totally capable of? Having an explanation is such a comfort. Knowing that there’s a reason why this process is so hard for me, when it seems so easy for others keeps me from falling into depression and helplessness. Prior to talking with my therapist and my dietitian, I would sit and think about what it would take for me to be a healthier, fitter version of myself. I would picture myself years from now eating salads and veggies while my family ate pizza, like my mom use to do while she was on weight watchers. I would picture just wanting to take a lazy day but I needed to get my 4 mile run in first, and that future looked miserable. But the only way I had ever been successful at losing weight was by literally starving myself and pushing my body to the extreme with exercise, so clearly that was the only way to do it. I’m learning that this all or nothing thinking is deeply flawed, and honestly a big part of the reason I’ve been so unsuccessful in the past. Restriction (especially extreme restriction) is not sustainable, and studies have shown that it actually causes people to gain more weight back than they originally lost. Because diet culture is a huge money maker and they need a way to have repeat customers. Once you fall into the binge/restrict cycle, it is very difficult to get back out. That’s where I am now.

Even though I want this thing so bad, and I have a path that’s going to be easier this time, I’m having trouble actually making the small changes I need to start with, because my body literally does not trust me anymore. Every time I eat a food I like, I have to eat as much as I possibly can, just in case this is the last time I’ll let myself have it for months. If I make a small change, eat a healthy snack, do a quick workout before work in the morning--the little voice in my head says, good, we’ve started, now don’t eat anything else the rest of the day so we can keep up our progress, and more often than not I listen. Moderation is not always easy when you’ve lived in these extremes your entire life.

I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think there are a lot of people who can identify with these same struggles, even if they haven’t recognized these issues in themselves yet. So I’ve decided to try to chronical this journey to healthier thought patterns, and see where that takes me physically. You always hear the stories of the successful people after they’ve been successful. Let’s get through the gritty part together. I’ve been in therapy about weight loss for almost 2 years now, and I’ve made some major shifts in my thought processes already, I still have a lot to do. If I can help even one other person escape this cycle, it will be worth it.

I’m going to end today with an assignment my dietitian gave me, which is finding other reasons to fix my relationship with food other than weight loss. Some of these still have to do with losing weight, but don’t focus on a number on the scale. Hopefully I can check these off and more over the coming years!

1. I miss riding horses, but I don’t feel like I can fairly do it right now at the weight I am.

2. On that same thread, there are a lot of activities I’d like to try that look like a lot of fun, but my weight holds me back both physically (weight limits) and mentally (fear of judging, looking stupid, failing and deciding it’s because of my size, associating a severely negative emotion with the activity and giving up interest in it before giving it a fair shot, etc.) Some of those things include, aerial silks, pole dancing (not stripping, but like, the exercise classes), kayaking, rock wall climbing, dancing, and a bunch more that I’ll think of later. I love doing outdoor activities, but I don’t because my weight makes me so uncomfortable.

3. Losing the stress of going to an unfamiliar restaurant, and the judgement around ordering the same, bland thing every time. I have been chastised for being a picky eater my entire life, so I have a lot of stress around choosing foods in front of other people. This is also something that formed, unknowingly to me, at a young age. It results in an almost panic-like state of mind if the trip is sprung on me and I don’t have time to prepare (like the time I started my new job and another employee was assigned to take me to lunch, and almost chose a sushi restaurant before we realized we wouldn’t have time to get there and back. I don’t do sushi, I had no idea what to order, and I barely paid attention to the rest of my orientation that morning because I was panicking about lunch.), or, if I know it’s coming, I will binge on something I do like and that I know will keep me full before I go. Then I can order a small side salad or something, tell the person I’m with that I’m “just not that hungry today” and not have to worry about my stomach growls giving me away. This also spills over into places that I really like to go to. If I know we’re going to Old Chicago, for example, and I can easily put away one of their individual pizzas in one sitting, but I’m scared the people I’m with will judge me for that, I’ll binge before I go there too, so I can eat half of it, ask for a box, and finish the rest on the way home or later that night. It’s not healthy, and I didn’t even consciously realize I was doing it until a few months ago.

4. Having a truly open mind about trying new things. I hate being so picky. Hate it. But textures and certain flavors activate my gag reflex and I cannot eat them. There are some foods that are ‘okay’, or “I’ll eat it, but I probably wouldn’t make it for myself.” but for the most part it’s I LOVE THIS SO MUCH (read: anything made of bread and cheese), or I HATE THIS SO MUCH I CANT EVEN SWALLOW IT. Because of those extremes, I don’t try a lot of new foods, because history shows I don’t like most things. When I do, I try to have an open mind, or try to look and sound like I have an open mind, but I’m already prepared to spit it out before I even take the fist bite. I want to more more foods into my “its okay” range, and maybe eventually form a “hey, this is pretty good” range. I want to be able to go to my boyfriend’s parents’ house and eat what his dad cooks (he’s always trying new recipes with a lot of different foods and spices. He takes great pride in his cooking, which he should, and I feel like I constantly offend him with my 6-year-old tastebuds. I avoid going over there if I know there’s going to be food because I’m so stressed about not hurting his feelings.

5. I want to be able to have options about where to buy my clothes. Right now I’m limited to a few things at Walmart (which are sometimes super cute, but are usually very not cute), and Torrid which is always cute but sooooo expensive. I’d love to see a cute shirt in a store window or even online and think, hey, I should try that on! Instead of, “well that will never fit me.”

6. I want to want vegetables. I want to be able to choose foods based on how they make my body feel instead of the taste. I want to crave a lunch that gives me energy to get through the rest of my day, instead of something that tastes delicious (hello giant bowl of ravioli), but leaves me in a carb crash and not wanting to do anything the rest of the day. I want to see my food as fuel.

7. I want to not feel so guilty about eating the things I do like! It isn’t so bad when I’m by myself (hence my continued secret eating), but even if I’ve been good (or put up a facade of being good) all week, if I’m the one who asks to order pizza or make pasta for dinner, I feel heavily judged. I do it to myself a bit as well, but especially if there are others, and especially if they know I’m trying to lose weight.

8. I want to have kids one day (part 1). My doctor told me at my last appointment that she wants to see me get to around 200 lbs to give me the best shot at a healthy pregnancy. That’s not unreasonable, and I think she’s right. I’m in my 30s and my window to have kids will close sooner rather than later, so I want to get my body to a place where I can confidently make that choice when I’m ready.

9. I Want to have kids one day (part 2). I want to teach my kids to enjoy healthy foods so they don’t have to go through this same struggle. How am I suppose to expect them to try vegetables and healthier foods if I wont?

10. I want my life to stop being about food and weight all the time. It literally never leaves my mind. I want to be able to stop obsessing about it and just live and know that I can trust my body to make the right choices and maintain my optimum lifestyle without stressing and obsessing over food every single day.

I think that’s a start. I want to start diving into this more and doing more frequent entries so these aren’t all 10 pages long. I don’t have a great track record with that, but I want to try. I want to be able to look back on the work I put in while I celebrate reaching those 10 goals I just listed. I want to help other people reach their goals too without having to go through the mental anguish I’ve been experiencing for the last 20-something years.

One day at a time, one meal at a time. I’ve got help, I’ve got goals, I’ve got time and ability. I’ve just got to do it.

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met4n0i4 · 4 years

Text

In depth explanation on the process. Now you'll finally get it!!

So, I've been getting a few comments and private messages from some of you. And there seems to be a similar thread in most of them. And that common thread is of course that you are not understanding the process fully. That's probably my mistake but I'll try to fix that in this post.

So here's a few of the questions that will be answered through this post. Side note - I included a small but sweet answer to them, just in case.

1. So essentially all I have to do is master my mind? A: No.

2. So all I have to do is shift all negative thoughts regarding what I want to manifest? A: Nope.

3. I did correct a thought but then a small voice brings me down. Should I ignore it? A: No!

4. Can you give me an example of how can I change this specific thought? A: Hell, no!

5. Is there anything else I can do to to change my circumstances before I start doing this process? It's just that my partner, brother, job is very toxic and won't let me. A: Hahaha, no.

I'm not a fan of two step, three step, four step processes. But I don't seem to have a choice if I want you to understand this whole manifestation thing like one of the big boys. So here goes my attempt at explaining my two step process. And I hope it does answer some of your most recurrent questions.

Step 1: Watch your thoughts. Listen to what the voice inside your head is pointing out to you.

Step 2: The small voice will give you three different types of prompts. 1. Correct this thought. 2. Add something more into your experience bucket list. 3. Take an action.

So now it's time to get a little bit deeper into it. Shall we?

## Step 1 - The small voice inside

So, listen. Our brains are awesome machines. They receive and process humongous amounts of information all day every day. And in a sense, they are very similar to our cell phones. They do things in the background that we are not aware of. All we get from them are annoying constant notifications. Notifications on things our phones think we need to pay attention to.

Well, our brains are just like that. They receive a ton of information from our surroundings, analyze it, classify it, sort it, prioritize it, and I don't really know what else. And they do all that in the background, without us having to make it happen or even be aware of it. Finally, as a result of all that background job, our minds send us a small prompt, like a phone notification. And that prompt usually comes as a thought popping in our minds. Sometimes like a small whisper, and other times as a nagging thought that refuses to leave.

Picture this. So you are doing homework, and your minds is focused on the task at hand. A plane goes by and your brain does notice, but guess what? You don't because your mind prioritized doing your homework over the sound of the plane. But what would happen if you significant other entered the room and started striping for you?

Well, your brain would make a series of processes unconsciously and finally give you a prompt. If your mind determines that finishing your homework is more important in that moment, then the prompt will be to brush off your carnal desires. But if your brain determines that having sweet sweet sex is more of a priority right then and there, then your mind will prompt you to close your laptop and head towards the bed while you take off your pants.

Now let's imagine that you are now having wild sex with your partner and you are completely into it. Planes passing by, neighbors slamming doors, birds chirping, clouds blocking the sun and castings shadows will all be happening around you. But you will be consciously unaware of all of them in that moment because your brain decided there's something more important to focus on. And what happens if suddenly your bedsheets catch on fire?

Yes, your mind will obviously change priorities and drive your attention to your burning sheets. And will probably prompt you into trying to put them off with a pillow, throwing water on them, or maybe just into getting out of the house. And you'd be smart to pay attention to what your mind is pinpointing to you at every given moment, wouldn't you?

So basically what I'm saying is that your minds is constantly driving your attention to the most important thing you have to attend in every given moment. And what would happen if you ignore the things your mind pinpointing at you? Well, you'd probably burn to death with your beloved in your arms.

Let me try to explain how this manifesting things work, using our car's GPS as an example to illustrate. Let's imagine that you have all this places you want to visit. So you hop on your car and you introduce all of those places into your GPS. Then, of course, your GPS system proceeds to analyze a bunch of information like the places you want to go to, which places are the most important from the list, which ones are the closest, where's a traffic jam, which roads are closed, and a whole bunch of other things WE don't have to worry about.

And after a few seconds of processing as much information as possible, our device decide the ideal route for our trip and starts giving us prompts on how to get there. See, all those processes happened in the background without you having to do a thing. All you did is give it instructions on the places you wanted to visit and that's it. Now, all you have to do is LISTEN to the prompts your GPS gives you and follow them, right?

It's a really easy yet amazing process. And if you ever decided that you want to take out or include new destinations, you just have to tell your device and it would recalculate the route for you. And all you still have to do is follow the prompts.

Well, your mind is pretty much the same. You've already given it instructions of where you want to go and what things you want to experience. And your mind has already traced the perfect route that goes through all the attractions you want to visit. Your mind did all the heavy work in the background, so all you have to do is follow its prompts. And if you add or remove a destination, your mind will recalculate for you. Easy peasy lemon squeezy!

So when someone asks if all they have to do is think 'I'm rich' all day everyday until it manifests, the answer is and always will be NO. That's like disregarding your GPS entirely and instead, choosing your own route. Why would you want to do that when your GPS knows things that you don't?! It knows that there's a road closed if you go through Money St., and it also knows that there's a traffic jam on Love St.

Don't we all have a parent or grandparent that thinks they know better than the GPS? Well, you're acting just like them when instead of listening to your inner voice's prompts, you decide to create and follow your own. And it's even worse when you consider that you have very limited available conscious information to do it. The good news is, that no matter how lost you got in the past, your GPS will keep recalculating the route to get you from where you are right now, to where you want to go. So you can choose to listen to it whenever you want.

So yeah, it might seem weird when all you want right now is money but your mind keeps bringing into your attention your negative thoughts about your 'obesity'. But, see... if you address those obesity thoughts and take your inner GPS's route, what actually will happen is that you'll be one step closer to the money. And you'll also be one step closer to the love of your life. And one step closer to your dream house. One step closer to finally recording that album you always wanted to. And to making new awesome friends. And to being healthy. And of course, losing that weight.

In other words, if you listen to your mind's 'right now prompt' and attend it, you'll not only be closer to what you think is the most important thing to get in this moment. You actually will be closer to each and every single thing you've ever wanted. So, no. You don't get to decide what you will think about all day every day. Quit doing that.

So let's address the questions in the beginning of this post.

No, you don't have to essentially master your mind. You have to listen to it and do what needs to be done with the prompts it gives you. All you have to do is address everything your mind throws at you. Mastering your mind would be like forcing it to keep focusing on having sex while your apartment building burns to the ground.

No. All you have to do is not just shift the thoughts regarding what you want to manifest. You have to address whatever prompt your mind gives you in the moment.. Don't try to force a route! Your GPS knows better.

No, you should not ignore the small prompts that your mind gives you. That only will get you lost. But don't worry if a prompt slips right through you. Your GPS recalculates whenever you take a wrong turn. So there's no need to stress about the things you didn't do when the prompt was telling you to.

No, I cannot give you an example on what to do with your specific prompts. Each one of us has their own route. You have to learn how to use your very own internal GPS and no one can tell you what to do or what is better in any given moment. You'll have to figure it out.

And finally no, there's nothing *else* you can do before getting into the process. You have to travel your own route, one turn at a time. There's no way to avoid it, and why would you want to, anyways? Can't you see that all you ever wanted is somewhere along that route? Remember people saying enjoy the ride? Yep, that's what they meant. But you can't enjoy the ride if you get lost for not following your GPS.

## Step 2 - Addressing the prompts

So now that you are listening to your GPS, you'll start getting three types of prompts.

### 1. Correct a destination

Every now and then your mind will focus on negative aspects of your life. I am fat. I am poor. I am lonely. I'll never have what I want. I think God hates me.

This kind of prompts from your inner GPS are inviting you to modify some of your destinations. Those thoughts are a clear sign that one of your chosen destinations is Fatville. So stop for a moment, and change the destination to Fitville. Let your device recalculate the route and then proceed.

This probably is the most important prompt to pay attention to. This thoughts are the reason you keep arriving to destinations you don't like. Most people who feel stuck or don't know where to go will get this kind of prompts at first. You gave your GPS an undesired destination somewhere along the line. So now you have to correct it to get someplace better.

I already went deeper into how to correct your thoughts (destinations) in a previous post. So if you still don't know how to do that, check this post right [here](https://www.reddit.com/user/gatodopoderoso/comments/iu1go1/you_are_doing_it_wrong_this_is_how_its_done_with/).

### 2. Include a new destination inside your route

Some other times, your mind will pinpoint you to beautiful things. A beautiful car will catch your eye, or a bag. This kind of prompts are inviting you to add this specific experience to your destinations. All you have to do to include them is cast a spell inside your mind, with authority and intent. *I have a beautiful car just like that one but with brown interiors instead of black.*

As soon as you do that, your mind will recalculate the route and you then can proceed again to follow its prompts. If you don't know how to cast spells, I also addressed that in my first post in [here](https://www.reddit.com/user/gatodopoderoso/comments/iu1go1/you_are_doing_it_wrong_this_is_how_its_done_with/).

Also, sometimes the prompt to cast a spell will only pop in your mind once. In that case, you might only need to take action once. You don't have to keep casting a spell over and over, unless your mind prompts you to it over and over. A lot of us have experienced just casting a spell once and getting our desired outcome shortly after.

### 3. Take action

This type of prompts are just that, a prompt to take a specific action. See, I for example never intended to write about how to manifest things. But I've been prompted little by little into doing it. And I oblige because I know that somehow doing it is taking me one step closer to experiencing everything I ever wanted. How? I don't even know and I don't have to. If you thought conscious creation meant life wouldn't surprise you, well, you were wrong.

See, before I decided to write this post, my mind could not stop thinking on this information. The two step process with the three types of prompts where born just right before I opened my laptop. It's like my mind was obsessed with trying to explain it for others, so ideas kept pouring and my mind kept prompting me to write it down. So here I am, following my inner voice.

If I had decided to ignore the prompt, I might have turned on the TV and 30 minutes inside one of the episodes of 'Teen Wolf' I would have noticed that I'm not paying attention to it. Why? Because I'd still be thinking of this post. So, sometimes the prompts are very nagging. If you want them to stop, address them! Also beware of taking actions that you haven't been prompted into. I already made a more in depth post about it [here](https://www.reddit.com/user/gatodopoderoso/comments/ivakdp/this_is_why_you_are_not_healing_in_depth_post_on/). You have to follow your mind's prompts and not your own. You'll learn to distinguish the difference, the more you learn to navigate with your GPS.

Sometimes you'll be prompted into trying a new restaurant for no apparent reason. Sometimes you'll be prompted into going to a club by yourself. Sometimes you'll be prompted into going to sleep. And sometimes you'll be prompted into buying a lottery ticket. Don't over think it. You don't have to know why. You'll probably find out when you get there, and sometimes not even then. Sometimes the dots will start connecting and will just make sense when you look back. *Oh, now i know why I had to go out that night.-* you'll think.

Would you believe this if you heard it from Steve Job's own mouth? Well, you can do just that in [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc).

Just know prompts have an expiration date. If you had the prompt to go to a club, because maybe you were going to meet someone there that night, going the next day would be futile. So you have to address the prompts as they come, the faster the better.

Now, not everyone's GPS will prompt them into doing the same things. That means not all of us will win the lottery. Your GPS probably decided that there's a better way for you to earn all that money, one that you'll really like and include one or more other experiences inside your desired destinations list.

So how about getting all that money while you work with the love of your life in a project you always wanted to develop. Yes, your GPS is incredible like that!

Do you know that's the reason why so many manifestation teachers tell you not to focus on the process and just in the end result? You only have to decide the destination, now let your GPS decide the route. It's gonna be awesome.

I hope by now you know how to use your internal GPS. And also know all the kind of prompts you might get and how to address them when they come. So you're all set to go. You can finally start the best trip of your life!

I really hope this post helps a lot of you to understand all this a little bit deeper. All your questions have driven to it. So please, keep sending all your doubts and comments if you want more posts from me.

Just a couple thing before you do. From now on I'll give priority to things posted in the comments section of my posts. A lot of people are getting insights from reading the answers to public comments. While answering to private messages only benefits one person at a time. So keep that in mind when thinking about writing to me through private messages.

And also, some people have brought to my attention that the best way to proceed might be opening a subreddit. Seems like posts from subs pop up more frequently on people's timelines. It also seems like subs have the option to get notifications when something new is posted. So I'm really starting to dig that idea. There's just one problem with that.

I don't know how to name the subreddit!! Haha, I've been thinking a cool secret society kind of name would be the best way to go. Something like Skulls and Bones but without the skulls. Or the bones. After all, I'm counting on people here becoming a very elite group of people. People who achieve amazing things in life.

And it is like a club already. There's not too many people right now. But the ones in here are getting the grip of it already. Some of you are already putting it into practice. And the most diligent are already getting results! I honestly never expected something like this to happen when I joined Reddit. And since I know this teachings work, I'm pretty sure this has the potential to become a much much powerful group than the Illuminati. 😆 So it only makes sense to make the most amazing brotherhood out of it.

But, guys, we need a name! Any ideas would be highly appreciated. Also, don't forget to follow my profile. I have previously been rejected from posting on major subs so I'm now only posting in here. I think that's it for now, so see you in the comments!

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freechoicedreamer · 4 years

Text

Body and Soul (Ch. 13)

AO3

Opening Theme

“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children. And he said: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable ”

(Kahlil Gibran, On Children)

Storybrooke, Alice and Robyn's home

The sun is already high when Robyn and Alice begin to wake up, although for a summer morning this is not a sign that they are waking up too late. Turning around in bed, Robyn looks at Alice's sleepy, completely naked form — a tempting invitation to a new ecstasy and melting of bodies and souls. Burning with desire, she reaches out to hug her wife and pull her closer to her own naked body, not resisting the urge to kiss Alice's soft, parted lips, smiling as if in a good dream.

"Hmmm…" Alice yawns, languidly and lazingly licking Robyn's lips before passionately surrendering to the kiss, "Is it dawn yet?"

"Uh, a little bit," Robyn can barely answer, trembling when Alice deepens the kiss while erotically caressing her breasts, sensuously reaching down to touch her most sensitive and totally wet, pulsating with desire, parts.

...

They made love for almost two hours - insatiably, tirelessly and passionately in a succession of multiple orgasmic waves floating in their private ocean of pleasure. Alternating between screams and whispers, almost breathless and delirious, their moans would keep echoing in the loft in an almost endless climax if it wasn't for Alice's phone ringtone bringing them back to Earth.

"What the hell?" Robyn mutters, disheveled and still shivering from the shock waves from which they were shaken.

Gasping, trying to process and absorb the reality of having to return to a time-space dimension, Alice reaches out to pick up her phone, recognizing Dr. Maturin's office number.

"Hellooo…" she whispers with a sexy voice practically moaning, and then tries again with a firmer voice, "Hello!"

"Alice Jones?" Maturin's secretary asks.

"Aye… that's me…"

"Oh, good morning. I'm calling to remind you about yours and your wife’s appointments and IVF procedures with Dr. Maturin this afternoon, should I confirm them?"

"Sure! Count on us! Ah… Thank you and… See you soon!"

"Bloody hell, Robyn, our appointments are today, I forgot about that completely, you know, when I woke up I just had time to remember that you and I didn't need to work today and could make love endlessly, you know, cause today is Saturday!"

"I know! Me too Alice! What happened is that when I woke up and looked at you, my mind went blank and erased the appointments... I just couldn't resist your smile this morning, you looked so peaceful, so beautiful, so inviting, I had to kiss your lips and repeat last night. I can't help being completely in love and attracted to you, Alice, you do this to me…"

"You were the one putting that smile on my lips, my love, because I was dreaming of you. You and I, we were together walking hand in hand in a luminous field, full of bright spots of light in the air. They were like tiny little beings of light and some of them were just there, waiting for us to pick them up…"

"Oh… maybe they will be our babies, waiting for us…"

"Maybe… but let's start the day, Honey, we only have time for a shower and a brief breakfast - and I'm starving!"

…

"Good to know that you are both ready, Alice and Robyn," Stephen Maturin welcomes them.

"Wouldn't skip the appointments for nothing, Dr…" Alice starts to say but he cuts her, "please, call me Stephen…"

"Right, Stephen, we really want to try a double pregnancy, our only doubt was about being cross-surrogates as we initially planned…"

"You could try, but would be running more risks in a process that is already too complex and risky. I'm glad you decided to try IVF with your own eggs. At the end of the day the children will be yours the same way… So, let's take a look at your ovaries. Who will go first?"

…

After examining Alice and Robin, he confirms what they expected. "Your cycles are incredibly synchronized so today is indeed the best day for both procedures. As you obviously know, to use your own eggs you began your treatment, at the start of your cycle, with synthetic hormones to stimulate your ovaries to produce multiple eggs — rather than the single egg that normally develops each month. Multiple eggs are needed because some eggs won't fertilize or develop normally after fertilization: that means your ovaries are with the perfect production for the In vitro fertilization. What I will do now is to collect mature eggs from your ovaries and fertilize them with an anonymous donor's sperm, in a lab - the kids will be blood-related through their biological father. Then the fertilized egg (embryo) or eggs (embryos) will be transferred to your uterus. One full cycle of IVF takes about three weeks. Sometimes these steps are split into different parts and the process can take longer. Any questions?"

"No question, Stephen," Robyn smiles, "we are ready to bring our children to the Light!"

“Good luck to us and to our babies!” Alice whispers, closing her eyes and holding Robyn’ s hand..

“Lucky babies,” Stephen smiles at them reassuringly.

Olympus & Lethean Fields

Olympus

To think of fate is to think of an inevitable, predetermined course someone's life is shaped to take. That leads us to think of the 3 elderly sisters sitting around a spinning wheel: the Fates, also known as the Moirai. The first sister, Clotho, is responsible for spinning out the thread of a person’s life. The second sister, Lachesis, measures out the length of the thread, determining said individual’s life span. The third sister, Atropos, then cuts the thread (with the now-recovered prime scissors, not the spare scissors she used for thousand years after she lost her first in a bet with Blue), thus determining a person’s death. The Moirai, healthier and immortal again, go about their task mechanically and dispassionately, as if menial laborers on a conveyor belt of souls as if elderly grandmothers, quietly spinning out life; a pleasant, quaint threesome who might stop by for tea in the afternoon, and probably bring some home baked goodies as well, or so it might seem on the surface.

"Did you notice the unusually large number of souls heading to the United Realms?" Atropos asks her sisters while sipping tea and enjoying a piece of fruit cake.

"I'd rather noticed their kind: consistently Old souls… Now that I think in perspective, the big picture is clear: their Forerunners went first, ~1-2 decades ago, discounting time nonlinearities. Then, three years ago, their Pioneer, Killian and Emma Swan-Jones's daughter, was born... Last year the four Path-Breakers followed: the Nolan-Jones twins and, right after, other inseparable pair went along: he, going to the far north and she, to the far south. Now a massive group is preparing to go simultaneously and to spread everywhere in the enchanted realms, establishing a unique and fascinating balance," Clotho remarks, "if we consider the hordes of Infant and Baby souls heading to the Land without Magic..."

"You're absolutely right, those Mature souls who went in an interval of nearly 10 to 18 nonlinear years to the Enchanted Lands are already starting to raise: something huge is being forged, my sisters," Lachesis mutters preparing to continue her job, "long life to these special missionaries, there they go…"

Lethean Fields

Hand in hand, the Underworld's queen and king, Persephone and Arthur, stroll through the Lethean Fields lush meadows toward the Return Gate."I knew there was so much more than Underbrooke, even though it is the Underworld's nerve center, but I confess I wasn't prepared for such breadth…" Arthur tells her."And this is just the enchanted lands sector, many of which are now concentrated in the United Realms, in a sub-dimension of what is known as Maine by those living in the Land without Magic. The Land without Magic sectors are much broader and complex, with hundreds of million, billions perhaps, of souls - we'll go there in time, we have Eternity at our disposal, my love," Persephone explains, giving Arthur's hand a squeeze. "What I'm about to show you is a gateway for the souls reincarnating in the United Realms. The Moirai, in an exceptional behavior, asked me to go there and make sure that the almost one hundred Old Souls will get to their marks.""Old Souls?" Arthur asks, curious."Yeah… they're like Avatars. Five of them have already incarnated, it seems that there are 95 going together now." "You'll have to clarify this concept for me, Persephone, be my teacher, love," he asks, kissing her hand. As she stops to tilt her head and dive into his blue eyes, he continues, "I want to learn from the best…""Right," she grins, giving him a peck and conjuring two armchairs. "Let's sit down, then.""Let's drink a fine wine while talking, then," he magically brings the drinks, still amazed with his new powers.After a sigh, Persephone starts. “The soul’s journey is a process of evolving. This means: growing in consciousness, steadily progressing through different levels of consciousness. Only by going into all this in physical bodies experiences and choices a soul can be thrown into an extremely sharp relief in a way that is not possible otherwise. Choice and the ramifications of choice provide the essential lessons of life. In a very real sense, the soul chooses to be on Earth in order to make choices.”“Free-choice,” he states dreamily, thinking on his most recent life-changing choices.“Exactly, my Free-choice-Dreamer, as free of a choice as that one of yours which brought you to my side, as my King. For you the evolution as a mortal is complete, but as an immortal, you have all eternity to evolve. As for the mortal souls, they evolve in stages, five in total, corresponding to a specific level of development in capability and self-awareness within the individual soul. As the soul goes through each stage, covering a large spectrum of colors, or frequencies, the focus changes, more experience is gained, and consciousness expands.”“Colorful souls? How come I haven’t seen these colors?”“That’s because you haven’t trained your eyes yet, you will get there and will perceive the spectrum of their auras beginning at white (all colors) but then going through red, yellow, green, blue, to deep purple and violet. From low frequency to high frequency. The least evolved souls — the “newbies” — have a pinkish hue. The oldest souls — those nearing the end of the whole reincarnation cycle — have a blueish hue. Although the spectrum is a continuum, it can be divided into those five distinct stages or levels of evolvement: Infant, Baby, Young, Mature, and Old Soul.”“Got it… then the one hundred Old Souls you were referring to are vibrating at these highest frequencies.”“Yeah and reincarnating together, like this, is extra-rare. So much that the Molrai asked me to leave the Olympus and make sure that all of them will cross the Return Gate. No complaints on my part, I confess, I was missing you, my King…”“And I, you, my Queen… But back to what you have just told me, I have one question. A mortal at the beginning of the reincarnating cycle, the Infant soul, is a complete novice at the physical existence?” “As a human being, yes. At this first stage they are largely in a state of incompetence and terror, frankly. But through experiences and choices they learn and grow. They steadily progress from being Infant souls to Baby souls to Young souls to Mature souls. Finally, they enter the fifth stage as accomplished Old souls, the experts of human existence. As infant souls they learn about choices having to do with survival; as baby souls choices having to do with moral codes and ethics; as young souls choices having to do with mastery of achievement; as mature souls choices having to do with relationships; and as old souls, choices having to do with the nature of oneness. An infant soul would therefore not understand the choices of an old soul although an older soul would likely have more understanding of the nature of a younger soul choice having had them.”

“95 new Old Souls, then…”“This. Which is very rare. If we went to the Land without Magic return gateway sector you would see another scenario. For you to have an idea, take the incarnated souls there. The six or seven billion people on the planet span the whole range of stages, but the average is said to be somewhere just past the mid-point of stage 3. In other words, this world is currently dominated by Young souls whose primary focus is competitive self-advancement.”“And what is the reason for this massive evolved group reincarnation?” Arthur asks, already standing up and walking towards the Return Portal.“Good question to which the Moirai themselves can’t answer, yet. We'll have to wait and see... What I do know is that the physical world is approaching the climax of an unprecedented crisis. I’ve seen a lot of imbalances in the physical world, Arthur, throughout Time I’ve seen so many wars, conflicts, countless tragedies... but the world’s astral body has never been so contaminated with dark matter as it is now. My guess is that these 100 children are part of the Light, Peace and Love the world is lacking, this means their mission is likely of the noblest kind, extremely challenging and complex. Let’s see them descending, it seems that for a start everything is in order, all of them are lined up and ready to go, look at them, all smiling and shining!”“I see, love, and I can see their auras, how beautiful and bright they are!” he sighs, grinning in awe before the happy souls.

Storybrooke, Sweet-Jones' home

Stepping softly so as not to wake the babies, Killian and Emma head into their intimate living room, adjacent to the couple's suite, like two young lovers hiding from their parents to date in peace. The 4-bedroom home has retained, downstairs, the reminiscent layout of a high-ceiling living room with a mezzanine, where musical instruments and a painting studio are located. On the second floor, more properly, besides their suite-living room combo, the Babies occupy one side of a 2-bedroom-suite combo while the fourth bedroom has been converted into an office where Killian has been working full time organizing Storybrooke Police archives into databases integrated into a wider digital system. That will give a technical support to his brother, the other Killian, now the head of the recently created Intelligence Bureau of the Ministry of Justice. Although he won't be directly involved with the Police Department on a daily basis, his brother knows he can count on him as an investigative ally whenever he needs and asks for.

A remarkable ease for computing earned Killian the position of consultant for all ministries, starting when, after heated debates on Earth and Olympus about ethics codes, he developed a database for the Health Ministry's newly inaugurated Cloning Medical Center (an underground building with chambers to preserve the clones of those who authorized them to be preserved for research on the healing science). The extra-bonus is that he can stay at home helping Emma not only in caring for the twins but also in structuring the Ministry of Art and Culture. Over time, Emma plans to be more engaged at the Music Conservatory but it was a relief to discover a great number of talented musicians in all Realms - some of them are successfully running the School of Music without her direct interference.

It has been a calm morning, so far, in the Nolan/Sweet-Jones home as their sons take a nap, enabling the couple to sit there, side-by-side - a well deserved fruition of each other's company.

"Quite a change in a Princess' life, isn't it?" He teases while absently caressing her golden hair.

"Heart Island taught me well, Honey, and I have magic! Besides, you're always helping by being mega organized, and the babies are the cutest collaborators I could wish for: rarely crying, practically almost smiling, sleeping almost all night…"

"Closed fontanels…" he adds, with relief.

She chuckles at that. "You really were worried about their soft spots at the back of their heads, weren't you?"

"Sure, they were too vulnerable and too soft," he grins and raises an eyebrow. "But there is still a soft spot on top of their heads. It might seem as if their heads have grown faster than their bodies, I remember how I used to panic about that with Alice."

"The same for me, with Henry… but soon I realized that it’s normal, you know, the bodies will soon catch up," and at that Emma rests her head on Killian's shoulders, snuggling into his embrace - a love nest until one of the babies wakes up, waking up the other in the process, and they decide it's time to call their parents. Usually when that happens, they don't need to hurry up because the babies keep quiet in their cribs, and just whimper to get a major attention: for a diaper change or for a breastfeed or both. Killian and Emma work as a team; exchanges are fast and during breastfeeding he helps singing for who is not suckling...

"Listen," he mumbles, "they're awake. They may be sleeping through ~ 5 or 6 hours at a stretch during the night, but their daily naps are becoming shorter…"

"They're giggling… " she smiles, playing with his left hand band, "they feel each other's presence."

"But they also recognize our voice and will turn to look for us when they hear us. Listen, they're laughing out loud! I sure would love to be there with them but this is sort of their moment, you know..."

(Silence)

"Any news from Alice?" She asks in a low voice.

"Apart from when I was told that I am a grandfather to be, nope! She and Robyn will have a full plate with their double pregnancy and all of this is kind of… surreal!"

"I wonder if they will want - or need to move from the loft."

"According to what she told me, they are not planning to move, at least in the beginning because they simply love their vintage home. Besides, my Starfish, a mother to be - can you believe that? said that Snow and David managed to survive for quite a time with a baby there, they intend to adapt the place for their needs. Their point is, with Robyn working as the new librarian and Alice as a kindergarten teacher, the loft is strategically located. I suggested them to incorporate the downstairs floor, it's vacant now, and they loved the idea. My guess is that they will run for it."

"And did she say when they will know how many babies are coming?"

"Perhaps in the next appointment with Stephen, that is, probably soon? She didn't mention anything specific but as far as they know, Robyn's pregnancy is the unknown parameter. Alice is with only one baby, Robyn may be with two, her ultrasound and baby's heartbeat weren't conclusive…"

"Wait and see then," Emma nods, "but I can picture their kids staying a lot with their grandma, in Portland…"

"Aye, love, me too, there will be a lot of space for them there, and here as well, or in our Jolly Roger..."

"They will be loved, so much..." Emma says standing up to go to the nursery.

"Already are, already are…" Killian follows her.

...

At lunch, Henry and Violet appear for a surprise visit, "hey Mom! Hi Killian! Hey little brothers…" and the babies go all smiley at them as if recognising their brother and sister in law by sight and smell as well as by their voice.

"They are reaching out!" Violet exclaims, putting Dylan on her lap. The little boy waves his arms and kicks his legs strongly, laughing out loud and that makes Violet smile too although, to Killian's trained eyes, it is possible to sense something more in the air.

"How old are they?" Henry asks.

"Four and a half months," Emma answers, also suspicious after his nonsensical question and decides to go straight to the point "Henry, my dear Henry, you tell me, what's going on?"

"Eh… since you didn't give us a chance to quibble, Mom, we came to tell you that, perhaps… eh... for sure, I mean, we kind of... Violet and I are kind of... going to have a baby?!"

"We don't understand," Violet cuts him starting to explain nervously, "we have always been so cautious… of course we planned to marry and have kids but we wanted to wait, to study first. Remember, Emma, what you told Henry, about not going too fast? We agreed with you but then… this little bean happened!" She closes her eyes holding her belly and her tears.

"Oh Honey, don't be upset. This may be the best thing to happen in your lives and, if you will, you can manage to carry on with your studies, as you had planned, and take care of the baby. I promise that you won't be alone, alright? You see, I have one question only, for you both, and I suppose it is more of a confirmation since you are already here bringing the news: do you really want the baby?" Emma questions them and they simply nod with bright, hopeful eyes. "Then fight for your baby and for your love. What I told Henry before, what I showed him, nearly a year ago, was the easier path, or what seemed to be easier, simpler path for your growth. But, it seems, the Fates had other plans for you and, as Killian uses to say, we don't want to go against Fate, do we?"

"It seems that congratulations are in order then! Well done, Lad!" Killian tries to soften the mood by hugging Henry. "Good luck when talking to Sir Morgan…" he whispers for just Henry to listen.

"Actually," Henry whispers back, "we have already done that. It took him a while to react but in the end, it went better than expected, he seems to be really okay with the news."

"So do we, son, I'm happy for you both and for the baby - my grandkid... Emma sighs and asks, "what now? Are you moving together?"

"Well... we are practically living together, the doubt is where we are going to live after the baby is born… Sir Morgan offered his house, which is a large house and he lives alone… and I have my 2-bedroom lodge... we don't know yet, Mom, we have time, for now, I guess we will continue in my house figuring out how things will evolve…"

"You see, Dylan and Jason? More babies to play with you! What a Baby boom! Boom! Boom!" Killian winks and grins making faces and mouths at the babies and they react with happy laughs and a contagious happiness.

Storybrooke, Swan-Jones' home

Temper tantrums have never been a Hope's thing, although she knows how to be quite stubborn ("just like her mother," Killian uses to say at which Emma reacts, "strong head, determined, that's my girl!"). However today has been an exception when the 3-year-old girl insisted on being totally independent and is now struggling to deal with frustration.

She tried something on their own, to build a complex 10-year Lego castle without using magic and refused to follow instructions from her father and that triggered a crying crisis that lasted for almost one hour. She is calmer now, thanks to Killian's patience. Emma was doing groceries during the crisis climax but watched enough of it before she went out to understand that they had to be cautious…

"But Papa, Captain Jones, look at me," she says very seriously pretending the roles are reversed and she is the one in charge of the last word, not counting however that her smart father will pick up the real last word out of her next argument. "We are going to visit Zelena and Chad in the Land Without Magic !! Then I have to do things without magic there and I need to be trained!! And you can't help me because I need to do it alone!!"

"I get the part without magic, Little Pirate but, as far as I know, in the Land without Magic every child gets the help from her Papa, especially when she is playing with toys aimed at children 7 years older than her!" Killian counter argues, confident with the inclusion of the age gap, aware that the girl is really good with numbers and will get his point.

Hope listens, she really opens up to listen to her father, eyes locked with his, connected, absorbing his wisdom and his love. She remains quiet for processing his words, pensive, distant. When she comes back, her eyes are brighter.

"Alright," she finally acquiesces, conceding, "you may help me with the doors and windows and… with everything, I guess…" she sighs with a timid grin and adds: "I'm sorry, Daddy…"

…

Two hours later, Emma, who came back from the supermarket when father and daughter were finally starting to have their constructor moment together, enters the living room carrying a jar of lemon juice and three glasses, asking about their work. "How is it going? Let me see? Wow!! It's prettier than in the toy box picture, I'm impressed!! How is that possible? Hope, you can't be using magic, you have said that yourself!"

"I'm not! It was Daddy's idea to borrow some pieces from de Pirate Ship box!!"

"It's a Pirate thing, love…!" Killian grins and raises an eyebrow with an almost innocent look. "Can't help myself and Hope loved the idea, you know, our Pirate Princess needed a castle with a piracy look…"

"It's beautiful! But… isn't it ready yet?"

"Nope!" the girl, happier now and not showing any residual signal of her previous meltdown, smiles with a hint of mischief and silliness, "a garden, the castle still needs a garden as beautiful as the one of Uncle Gideon's castle… but first I need to go to the toilet, bye!!" And she puffs to the bathroom.

Hope was potty-trained and able to dress herself without assistance, among other skills, at 2-years old. She has been challenging Killian and Emma to keep up with her and sometimes it is almost tempting to tell their daughter to "stay still,” but they always allow their child the freedom to practice her physical, emotional and magic skills in the way she needs so that they can develop as they are supposed to - and they know how unique her upbringing has to be...

"At the end of the day, more than a Seer or any other exceptional title that Archie, or Blue, or Gideon may use based on modern psychology or ancient prophecies, such as Pioneer, when referring to her, our girl is just a little child trying her limits with her parents like any child of her age," Emma mumbles sitting near Killian as they stay there, sit on the floor, staring at the castle and sipping their juice.

"Says the Savior, twin of the Aligner, both married to the Survivor twins…" he chuckles and, after a pause, he continues more serious. "Hope became unusually stressed after the latest Baby Boom news this morning, not even with the first Body & Soul vision I saw her so out of her mind, love," Killian notices.

"But she was happy," Emma whispers, "I mean, initially, especially after knowing that Elsa and Cindy were pregnant. It all started to go downhill after Wish Ariel called yesterday morning to let us know about her pregnancy, remember? She stood, raised her hand to her mouth, as if in shock, as if realizing that something big was coming... and from that moment each new pregnancy confirmation made her tantrum to escalate. That was a gradual buildup for a meltdown. Although I was out this morning I knew it was coming… Killian, what did she say to you this morning, while I was doing groceries?"

"She said that something she didn't know yet was really happening. Then she said she was happy because the babies were coming and she didn't know why she was crying but she needed to cry a little. I've never seen our girl that way… shhh, she will be back soon," he whispers and, continuing with a normal volume of voice, he completes, "I wonder where we are going to pick up the Lego pieces to build the castle's garden, maybe from the box of the gas station set…?! Nope! Perhaps from the box of the space rocket set!? No, from where it would be?"

"Daddy," Hope puffs back to the living room and sits on the floor next to her parents, "I will use magic to bring the garden pieces…"

"Great idea, Little Love, once in Rome… I mean, once in the Land without Magic we will deal with not having magic. Here, in the Land with Magic, it is different! With cautious and not exaggerating, we can use magic for building a beautiful garden for our castle, why not? This is what a real Pirate Princess would do!"

"I'm a real Pirate Princess, Captain!" Hope exclaims with a grin, back to her positive self. "I'll show you how this is done!"

"Ah!! That!? I'm sorry but I will have to see to believe, little'love," Killian states defiantly and Emma giggles, admiring how easily the two connect when they are playing.

Reacting to her father's challenge, the girl stands up, tilts the head while looking at the castle, as if calculating the extension of her magic, and raises her hands with a natural elegance to produce the Lego pieces they will use to assemble the garden, "a garden with a magic portal… to the Land without Magic!!" she promises raising her eyebrows in the attempt of a wink.

PUFF!! PUFF!! PUFF!!

Enchanted Countryside, Mills-Lockesley's home

It would look like an ordinary meeting of old friends, gathered to celebrate the kickoff of Operation Body & Soul's first anniversary, if it weren't for the said friends' names: Regina, Robin, S. Regina, W. Robin, W. Regina, Liam Sr, Zelena, Chad, Snow, David, Emma, Killian, Emm and Key…

...

"Who is taking care of Dylan and Jason?" Snow asks Emm as they are sitting at the dinner table set with a banquet worthy of gods.

"Henry and Violet. Alice and Robyn were also planning to go but we left before they arrived…"

"They are already there, love," Key cuts her, "Alice has just texted saying that they are there, planning to cook dinner as soon as they give the babies the bottles with the breast milk you stocked and, after that, put them to sleep. They have just finished their bath, our two sailors... Look at these pictures, 4 adults totally soaked trying to bath two happy 6-month toddlers," he shows them his phone.

"Oh, what a splash!" Emm chuckles. "Here, take a look," she passes the phone to a curious Snow.

"Oh!… Emm, they're so cute… and have grown so much since the last time I saw them!" Snow smiles taking a look at the pictures and showing them to Zelena and Emma.

"Oh…" Emma melts enchanted by the babies's cuteness. "Let me tell you, the way they smile - as if understanding more than they should, remind me of Hope when she was their age, perhaps a bit more boyish but definitely looking like her," Emma notices.

"Who could tell they would look like they were her little brothers..." Zelena jokes, faking a surprise.

"In a way, they are," Chad enters the conversation, "at least to the Genetic Science," he explains. "But if the geneticists knew about the United Realms existence all foundations of their scientific knowledge would be shaken…"

"One more reason to keep the gates closed," Regina adds.

"The more and more there are people not agreeing with this position, Regina," Killian tells her.

"What do you mean, Killian?" Robin asks, passing the salad to David.

"I mean," Killian explains, "we have been gathered in one land with access to all 21st century technology - with virtual access to their world and all intricate chaos they live in, and people have started to discuss - and to question - about our geopolitics principles of anonymity with no interference…"

"Not to mention the young people dreaming of applying to courses not offered here," S. Regina reminds them.

"Opening the borders would integrate us into their chaos, not the other way around," Regina defends the point of continuing isolated, "they would want to explore us and our power to their own interests of domination - it would be the end of the United Realms."

"There is more than this trend, Regina," David enters the conversation. "Now that I've been more in contact with people of the Enchanted Countryside I've detected at least two trends, something like a conservative party, more aligned to your opinion, and a more progressive party, gathering those who believe that people from the United Realms should cross the borders more frequently not only to buy the industrialized goods they produce but to give them, as a form of exchange, a help in fixing their mess."

"But they aren't asking for our help," W. Robin reminds them.

"Perhaps because they don't know we exist!" Emma reasons.

"In the Enchanted Seashore I would say that the Progressive trend is a majority. Perhaps because people there look at the ocean, the open horizon, they have their back to the continent and their sight to what is beyond the horizon," Senior adds more condiment to the conversation.

"From what I've seen," Emm says, "and I haven't seen as much as some of you but enough to understand the big scenario - plus I have my husband as a great professor, right now there seems to have a global tilt there that has yielded a tumultuous far-right takeover. Although I gave up the throne, I have a background on politics since I've been educated to reign and it seems that, technically speaking, this whole picture - far right and far left extremes - is too complex for us to handle."

Hearing Emm's remarks and thinking on her own original upbringing and on how she also gave up the throne to become the Minister of Education, Snow finally speaks. "We could compromise," she offers. "Right now we are a Monarchy System aggregating many monarchies. We could evolve to a Monarchy with Democracy, thus giving voices to all trends, allowing them to be represented. We already have a Prime Minister, Robin, who has helped the Good Queen to coordinate the Ministries. What if we created a Parliament and gave the people a right to vote and elect their representatives?"

"This is interesting," Killian observes, "because what we are witnessing out there is the endangerment of Democracy as it exists in the world, with a few exceptions… In political regimes generally accepted as democratic, what happens is the delegation of decision-making power through voting. But the vote was, in most of the history of political thought, perceived as an instrument alien to the democratic order. Greek democracy was characterized by direct participation in decision making; occupants of public office were generally chosen by lot. We studied that in the Naval Academy but the question we should ask is: how has this concept evolved? Has it worked as the Greeks expected?"

"Definitely not, I'm afraid," Key answers. "What I saw when I lived there is that it has moved away from the notions of direct popular power and political equality. People don't rule, they just decide who will rule. This decision is almost random, since ordinary people, being far removed from public decisions and stuck to their own immediate concerns, are unable to make consequent political choices."

"We could change that paradigm, we could recreate a Democracy that would fix what they did wrong, learn with their errors…" David argues, already buying Snow's idea.

"You know where our worlds differ the most? What having and not having magic is translated into?" Zelena asks them all while sipping her wine. "The thirst for power and domination is the common enemy, but for them Power equals Economic Power, in other words, Money. Their most dominant system, Capitalism, is destroying the planet, destroying Nature, which is aggravated when the Liberals, representing the Financial System, assume the Power: they don't care for equality. They care for concentration of power in the few hands of a financial elite. Money is such an abstract concept sometimes but in the crudest concrete reality it defines who gets to have food and a house to live, who gets access to healthcare. It defines migratory flows, wars, poverty, misery, dignity, slavery, it defines everything surviving related."

"Money is the instrument for evilness, then," says the ex-evil queen W. Regina.

"Basically this," Chad agrees. "But it may also be an instrument for goodness, if only Mankind were less ambitious and selfish…"

"And then, of course, my mother, always revolutionary, coming up with the Democracy concept being applied in the United Realms - why am I not surprised?" Emma tries to bring the focus back to something more practical.

Regina, who had been listening in silence, finally speaks. "Matching the will to democracy with the need for representation may be an open challenge, as representatives will be encouraged to report primarily to key resource holders of their campaign supporters - and the media - rather than to their constituents. We have seen that happening in the LWM. The reduction of democracy to electoral competition represents the encroachment of the ideal of political equality and popular sovereignty that was historically associated with it."

"Asymmetries will always happen, Gina," Robin tells her, "but can be corrected with a solution which is to assert equality through Law and Justice systems. I think Snow has a point, we should be brave to take a risk and give to the people a new channel to their voice. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't run the risk of bringing me back. Mankind is supposed to evolve, generation after generation and… The new generations are coming faster than we think, look at the Baby Boom! We are not eternal, my love, we need to start thinking on their world rather than on our world. They will rule the Future, and we need to think on their paths as their own, assuring them freedom to make their own decisions - the right and wrong ones, and to learn with them, to run their risks, to live their own adventures. It will be up to them to decide if the gates to the Land without Magic will be open, in the future, weighing the consequences, pros and cons. But we owe them a chance of having a world to live and to rule, of having a Future."

"I'll drink to that, to my brother's words," W. Robin raises his glass, "then I propose a toast: To The Future!"

"To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!" "To The Future!"

Olympus

As a manifestation of the sea god, Nereus was supplanted by Poseidon when Zeus overthrew Cronus. However, known for his truthfulness and virtue, Nereus and his wife Doris accepted defeat and the loss of power without protest, understanding that for a new, more prosperous era to arrive great changes and, perhaps, a few sacrifices, would be necessary. Their noble character and lovable dignity were rewarded and honored with a peaceful rest in a quiet Village at the Olympus, reserved for the retired member of their divine lineage. Sometimes Poseidon visits them - they became good friends, and in many occasions they lost the notion of time-space in endless conversations about the meaning of Life.

Today is such a day, when Poseidon goes there to visit them, but he is not going alone this time…

...

"When was the last time you saw them, Mama?" Liam asks Alice as their petite committee approaches the Retirees' Village.

"Right after I died, they went to Elysium to see me. That was the only time they left their Village but they respected my decision to not coming with them, to not wanting to resurrect. They understood my will and blessed me, anyway. You won't find more generous and wiser beings than my parents, Liam," Alice tells her son.

"That is open to debate, Mother," Liam squeezes her hand and turns to Poseidon who has just stopped. "Are we there?"

"Right here. Let's knock at their door," the god answers holding his daughter's hand and pointing to a Greek-like house.

"There is no need to knock, Poseidon…" Doris leaves the house, opening the door with a smile that brightens when she recognizes her daughter, “Halia!! You have come to see us!” Then, running her eyes over the others, they almost pop up when land on Liam and she turns to her daughter: "The resemblance of your son - can only be your child - with Nereus is striking, Halia... oh forgive me, the name is now Alice. But come in everyone, don't stand outside, come inside and make introductions in there… "

Nereus was fully concentrated reading a book when everyone entered the room. After a moment, feeling the presence and glances, he finally realizes the company.

"By the beards of the Sacred Shrimp!!" He exclaims, standing up and opening a broad smile, "Halia!! My dear Halia, what a joy having you! Come, let me hold you!!"

Trembling with emotion, Alice hugs her father and mother before the others' eyes, all moved by the reunion. After a while, Nereus remembers that they have witnesses and opens his eyes. The first he sees is Liam and, as if looking at his younger self reflection, he stops, backs off, and opens his mouth, eyes traveling from Liam to Alice and back, past everyone else on the way. Turning to his daughter, he mumbles "Is that your son? My grandson?"

Alice nods, "Liam, his name is Liam Jones..."

"Liam…" he repeats and looks at Doris, both with teary eyes. "Come closer, Liam, I'm honored by your visit. Let me hug you, Son…"

Reluctantly, Liam steps forward and extends his hand, which Nereus grips firmly with an electrifying shock. The empathy between the two is immediate, a grandfather-grandson love at first sight.

Glancing at Doris, Liam smiles shyly. "Grandmother?" he babbles and immediately also wins the old lady's heart.

Smiling, Nereus turns to Poseidon, "But what a lack of manners, ours, we didn't even welcome our guests... Poseidon, please introduce us to your friends!"

"We are thrilled to see you and Doris so happy, old friend. Here, let me introduce my companions. To my right, my son, Triton, my daughter, Ursula, and her husband, Nemo. To my left, Liam's wife, Milah and her two sons with equal names: Bealfire - they are twins, we call them wish and nonwish versions, remember when I explained the Wish Realm to you?" He winks and chuckles. "And besides them, a new good friend of us, Wish Belle. They all live in the Islands of the Blessed…"

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Doris says puffing armchairs for them all to sit. "I'm not used to using my magic but this is an excellent opportunity to practice it, especially if it's to bring a refreshing juice and some cookies like this…"

PUFF!

Smiling with satisfaction, she offers the snacks: "Help yourselves, my dears!"

…

"So, you are telling me that you and Zeus have been humanized?" Nereus asks Poseidon, admired. "That's another surprise…"

"The whole Clone episode was life altering for us, including sharing emotions and thoughts with human souls, our Emissaries - that gave us another perspective. I know that you and Doris drink your Nectar in small doses and because of that you haven't felt the crisis as strongly as we did, but for us it was huge. We came out of that experience in mortality with a new perspective about Life and Death…"

"My father and Zeus wouldn't admit, in other times, the visit of our friends from the Elysium Fields and from Earth, such as is the case of our good friend Nemo," Triton adds.

"But Nemo is a demigod now, brother," Ursula reminds him.

"That is precisely what I am talking about. This generosity. First, Hercules and Megara, whom most call Meg, gained new physical immortal bodies. Then, Arthur, resurrecting and becoming king of the Underworld, the newest Olympian God, and Nemo, my brother in law, as immortal as any of us… a real feast with Ambrosia and Nectar!"

"And yet, Halia still prefers to remain a human soul… is that so, my daughter?" Doris asks Alice.

"Yeah, my beloved mother… Although tempting to stay here with you - I won't deny I will miss you, I'm happy being Alice in the Elysium, close to good friends, close to Liam and his true love, Milah, being able to watch our beloved ones, on Earth, through a wide screen…"

"Excuse me if I'm being nosy," Belle enters the conversation, "but wouldn't it be possible for you to compromise? I mean, Liam has a ship, you could have family meetings there from time to time, and sail in the Ocean together. After all you all have in common a deep love for the Sea! What do you think?"

At Belle's suggestion, Nereus eyes shine as two gems and he opens a broad smile, "what a wonderful suggestion, lovely Lady!" Then, turning to Liam, he asks, "you get to tell me this story of having a ship, my boy!"

"He is a Captain, Father, spent almost all his life on a ship, and you get to know his two brothers on Earth, also captains!" Alice tells him proudly.

"You will have to tell me, of course I will want to hear everything about it and about them!" The old god says, feeling his heart pulsating with renewed strength.

"You will love to hear their epic stories while sailing the Jewel of the Realm, Sir," Bealfire introduces him to Liam's ship name.

"I would love to be there with you, Son, but as a retired god I need to get permission not only from Poseidon, but also from Zeus. I think I should talk to him first…"

"There is no need to ask permission, you are free to go," Poseidon assures him, "but you could come with us to the Pantheon, we are all heading there. I promised to show Belle the Olympian Library and to the two Bealfires I promised to take them to the Arena, to practise Olympian Sports. Come with us, be my special guests, you and Doris, we will be honored by your presence."

"Thank you so much, Poseidon, Triton, all of you," Doris thanks them, "we feel alive, we feel Hope, a promise of dreaming a good dream…"

"More than dreaming, Mother," Alice squeezes her hand as they walk to the Pantheon, "we are making it happen, we are making it Real!"

#Body and Soul #Chapter 13

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