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sabaramonds · 1 year

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the intimacy of possession: a glimpse into hyde-brand formative yaoi

hello, everyone! i mentioned once or twice here on tumblr and several times over on twitter, but my good friend @tshirt3000 organized a zine among its friends with the topic being yaoi. specifically, formative or otherwise largely influential yaoi in our lives or what yaoi means to us. a few topics came to mind when this was presented before me. one of those topics was murder or violence as a love language and the overlap between joshneku (twewy) and akeshu (p5). however i would have had to replay both games because its been so long and i didnt have the time; luckily someone else discussed joshneku (which made me super happy to see) so thats another essay for another day. instead i ended up writing about - you guessed it - possession, and not of the material kind. in my entry i discuss how i view it and use several ships that impacted me greatly enough to definitely qualify as ‘formative yaoi’. the following will contain spoilers for: yu gi oh (the manga), kagerou project (the light novels), and season 1 of the kekkai sensen/blood blockade battlefront anime adaption. you can find the full zine, all 81 pages of it!, over here. the digital pdf is free to read, so please enjoy it at your leisure. so, lets talk about possession

there is an unavoidable intimacy in possession. no matter the circumstances, no matter how the characters feel about one another on a personal level, there is an intimacy that simply cannot be denied. no matter how hard you try to maintain a distance between you and the one you share a body with, there is an inevitable overlap, a bleedover of information, of self. who else could ever know you as well as the one who has cradled your soul, your mind, your heart, within their own vessel; who else could ever know you as well as the one who fit themself within your body, within your heart, as if it were their home? CASE ONE: TENDERSHIPPING. in YGO, ryou and his spirit, the thief king, are not often shown together despite acting as narrative foils for yugi and his spirit atem. in fact ryou is scarcely shown at all: he fades into the background like a ghost more often than not and we are very rarely afforded a glimpse into his life outside of his introductory arc, at least in the manga. we know he is socially isolated from both friends and family: he has himself and his dioramas and his ghost. so i think his possession would be a relief for him; instead of having no one, he always has someone, even if that someone is zorc-pilled, prone to violence, and repeatedly puts him in dangerous situations.

unlike yugi, ryou, is for the most part cut off from his spirit. they do not visit each other in their soul rooms; the thief king actively excludes ryou from his plans despite piloting his body to achieve his goals. and yet, towards the end, it is ryou who constructs a diorama at the thief king’s behest as the battleground for his revenge plot against atem. this must have required extensive communication, with the level of detail it had. i imagine ryou glad to grasp the opportunity to know the one who has haunted him all these years, both hurting and protecting him, especially knowing with confidence that yugi and his friends have defeated the king of thieves once before and that they could surely do so again. after all, if he was bothered by the thief king's anything, he wouldnt have stolen the ring back from yugi after it was taken from him in the wake of battle city. the thief king is HIS shitty roommate from hell to evict if he so chooses!! there is also, of course, the thief king: one who hurts more than he helps, one who cannot care for ryou the way he might have if it werent for his zorcpilled grief and thousands of years of a festering grudge to fuel him.

he manages to care anyway; there was no reason for him to trap the soul of a teacher who had harassed ryou in a figurine, or to keep ryou alive during the battle city arc, either, when it risked his working relationship with malik. its hard not to care for the boy whose body you have lived in for years, no matter how zorcpilled you are; a boy who you have been alone together with for a long, long time; a boy who does not forgive you for the way you hurt him but keeps letting you in anyway. we dont get to see any resolution between them, by the way. at the end of it all, when yugi is saying goodbye to the spirit of his puzzle and the millennium items are being taken away for good, there is nothing for ryou and the ghost who has been with him since childhood; the ghost who has been, for the most part, the only company hes kept for many years. i like to think that at the end of it all, de-zorc’d, the thief king might have let ryou in the way ryou has always let him in. just once, just for a moment. an honest goodbye. we dont know, though. i guess thats typical of ryou and his thief king. we never get to see them during such private, pivotal moments. CASE TWO: HARUKA, KONOHA, AND THE SNAKE OF CLEARING EYES. kokonose haruka has known he was going to die for at least six years by the time shintaro, the protagonist, meets him; by the time the story itself begins in volume one, he is already two years gone.

kagerou project, the series he’s from, contains the daze: a world which ‘devours’ pairs of people close to death. to help them survive, its creator began to give some of these people parts of herself and her power, via her snakes. a caveat: the power given has to suit the human. can you guess what harukas most earnest wish might have been? this is how konoha was born. konoha was not a person, not at first; he had been harukas oc for a video game he played with his classmate and friend, takane. he was harukas idealized self: not only healthy but inhumanly strong and capable of being of use to those he cared for. konoha is who and what haruka was meant to be, yet haruka, who rejected this body, was stuck within the daze, in an endless white room and his hospital bed, only able to see the outside world in glimpses of konoha’s eyes.

he resents konoha. konoha is living a life that was meant to be his—although that, too, is a life haruka was not meant to have. hes always been on borrowed time.

konoha, himself instead possessed by a fragment of the daze’s creator’s power in the absence of haruka, is barely aware of haruka beyond his understanding that he resembles someone his friends have lost.

the snake of clearing eyes is a parasitic entity constantly recreating a series of events that will lead to him being able to possess a physical vessel, however briefly, before one of the other protagonists—mary—forces time itself to loop back several years in a fit of grief over those she has lost. he’s the one who actually created konoha, having secretly been the one to meet haruka instead of the daze’s creator. he finds konoha convenient and ultimately takes him over, having told haruka when he created the body, “i am very glad this was your wish for me [...] if you do not wish for anything, i cannot ‘fulfill’ anything.” it’s only in the act of fulfilling the most ardent wishes of others that he is capable of action, and only then: only when he is doing what others beg of him. so he spends timeloop after timeloop brutally murdering a bunch of teenagers to get the perfect body for himself, even knowing mary will, in her grief, rewind time itself. and then he does it all again. so much work. years and years of effort expended over and over again in loop after loop—just for a taste. is it worth it? we know after the series ends, haruka is alive. but it begs the question of how he lives. i like to think he took the snake of clearing eyes into his actual flesh and blood body to act as that substitute life. but why do i find that so compelling? because he sees himself in the snake of clearing eyes. kokonose haruka is a boy who has always known he was going to die no matter how desperately he wished otherwise. if he resents konoha for living, it stands to reason that he would empathize with the snake of clearing eyes, so desperate for a life of his own, even if the rest of those around them would not think the same. he can give the snake of clearing eyes a lifetime to live. his own lifetime, shared, and maybe that could be enough to satisfy him. i think the snake of clearing eyes would hate him for this kindness. a shared lifetime that isnt on a timer that leads inevitably to repeating the same several years, again and again: a gift he does not deserve and did not ask for. its a punishment as much as it is a gift, anyway, given that it isnt truly a life that is the snake of clearing eyes alone. i think thats funny as hell. CASE THREE: THE KING OF DESPAIR AND WILLIAM “BLACK” MACBETH. kekkai sensen takes place in the city of hellsalems lot (fka new york city) in a world after an apocalyptic event called “the collapse.”

now let me talk about william ‘black’ macbeth. black spends his whole life repressing his immense power both because his twin sister mary ‘white’ macbeth was born without it and because hes afraid of it. during the collapse, his parents give up their lives to turn his sister into a piece of the barrier that keeps the effects of the collapse from spreading, and he embraces despair both literally and metaphorically. the king of despair is…well, nobody really knows who or what he is, but where the thief kings motives were rooted in grief and vengeance and the snake of clearing eyes motives laid in a desire to live, the king of despair wants one thing: to die. towards the end of episode 11, he monologues: “...how fragile a thing eternal life is, a fate of endless wandering; without death in mind one cannot be said to be truly alive. and so, forgotten by death, the despair that i am shall at least take my foolishness to bed with me.” he says this very dramatically on a live broadcast to the entirety of hellsalems lot by the way. right as he kickstarts the collapse 2: electric boogaloo! it is uncertain who or what the king of despair is, but we know hes been ‘a silent observer’ since ‘rome’. prior to meeting black, he was a shapeless fracture of blue light, having presumably lost his physical body in one of his many previous suicide attempts. guy really just wants to die. im especially fond of him because despite his behavior, he is actually the sort of guy who cares a whole lot about other people, specifically at the very least, black. during their fight in the season finale, another character says: “as long as you crave the light, you cannot kill him. It is precisely because you desire hope that you sought him out, is it not?” the him, of course, is black.

this enrages despair. despite that, despair does eventually admit—in a breathless, wavering voice—that actually, he had not taken blacks body by force. “you came to rescue him from me, but i didnt take him by force. he welcomed me.” top 10 most haunting lines in all of anime. to me. the tenderness in his expression, in his voice, the raw ache of it: and then, when the protagonist leo arrives with white, the fear and hope. black wants to live, despair wants to die, and even if despair didnt want to kill black alongside himself he was willing to do it. he doesnt, of course. its not the right choice. but despair wants to die and black wants to live, so until despair stops trying to kill them both, hes got to leave.

ive talked a whole lot about these ships now. whats their common denominator? I’d have to say the friction in each relationship. theres something so incredibly gripping to me about two (or, um, three if we count the haruka situation?) fundamentally different people (or entities) sharing a body. the thief king and his millennia of grief and rage, worsened by zorcs proximity. ryou and his passive detachment from himself, his relief at knowing someone will always, always be with him: he is not as alone as he thought. the snake of clearing eyes and who knows how many centuries or millennia spent desperate for a life of his own, grasping for it no matter what the cost, no matter how repetitive. haruka and a lifetime spent knowing he was living on borrowed time, that he would die young just like his mother—younger even than she had. konoha, caught between them, a vessel of both hope and rejection. the king of despair and his yearning for death. for that final, eternal sleep. caring despite himself, hesitating in the face of the young man who had welcomed despair into himself. black and a lifetime of repressing himself and fearing everything, but mainly his own power—but not despair. not really. so i want to ask everyone who read this a question. do you think its gay to possess someone and be possessed in turn?

#my writing #um. i guess.#should i even tag the fandoms #ygo #kagepro #kekkai sensen #thank you again to tshirt for organizing this #the real yaoi truly was the friendships we made along the way

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sophieinwonderland · 28 days

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a now exfriend of ours has been aware of their plurality for about 2 years and just last month told us and another friend (after about 2 weeks of not speaking to us) that they are moving into a new chapter of their life and dont feel a connection with us anymore. they have new friends and made it seem like they want to leave their "past self" behind them. they also said they arent in interested in the community that brought us all together, but the thing i want to talk about is that they said their system all fused and its just them left now.

they used to have a HUGE system and were very active, for lack of a better term, in their plurality. they made headmates, they (being the host) had many insya partners and close relationships to their headmates. they didnt express anything like final fusion being a goal. it seemed they were proud of their plurality and were happy with it. they even came out to people in person.

now i have been haunted by the idea that they fused to fit in with their "new life" and "new self" but im trying to reason it out. i just dont understand how they could go from seemingly benefitting from being plural to fusing 100+ headmates in what seemed like 2 weeks. i think it would help to hear an outside perspective and while i of course cant give you every detail, i would appreciate knowing your thoughts.

I'm so sorry that happened. I don't know their circumstances and it's hard to even speculate on people I don't know.

One thought is that they might have mistaken dormancy for fusion. They certainly wouldn't be the first system to have done so. That at least sounds more likely to me than this mass fusion in the span of a couple weeks. But again, I don't really know them or their situation.

Whatever the case, my heart goes out to you. Losing a friend sucks. Especially under such terrible circumstances. Please take care of yourselves. 💖🫂

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bigskydreaming · 7 months

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Bit of a vent post, bit of a housekeeping post, bit of a 'so that's what's been happening in Kalen-land' post:

So I have officially done everything that can be done to prepare for our relocation to a different site while they do construction on this one for the next year, which should be....any day now. Since it was originally supposed to happen on October 2nd, lol. Oh, bureaucracy.

If I wrote a memoir of the last two years specifically, 'Oh, Bureaucracy' would be the title, actually. So obviously its no secret that Moukie & I have been struggling for a long time, even after my surgery back in December 2021. But pretty much all of that has to do with our struggles to hack through bureaucracy to secure some actual stability and longterm living situation, since....oh, January 2022. We've finally secured a five year lease to stay in this place (with the exception of the next year, at a different site during construction, as I mentioned), but like....we only JUST got that agreement officially in writing, signed & notarized & all that...last week.

After being told it was basically a done deal but they couldn't finalize anything or put anything in writing until the building sold and the property changed hands and one city service took over oversight of this particular property from another one....pretty much every month since November of last year. They changed dates and timelines on us so many times it was like every three week we'd have a completely new timeline we were looking at for when we could expect to have everything finalized or for the relocation to happen, etc. Most recently, we were told with complete certainty that everyone HAD to be out October 2nd, that construction would be starting immediately after that, nobody would be allowed to stay in the building.

October 31st, and we're still here, lol.

So that's been a fun non-stop rollercoaster ride of stress, lol. The problem, of course, is that before my surgery (12/2021), I'd quite literally been homeless for at least the five years prior to that. Fortunately I never quite made it to the point of having to sleep outside, though there were plenty of times it got close, and spent most of that time living out of cheap motels & extended stay housing while working towards getting enough money together for my surgery, but as far as any landlord or potential renter is concerned, I was for all intents & purposes homeless during that time, and that's....not great when trying to secure housing in the middle of a pandemic right after basically starting your life over from scratch after the surgery to fix the problem that basically derailed your entire life, lol. Not to mention my credit score was practically nonexistent, all my credit cards were maxed out to pay for the surgery & insurance, my driver's license had been expired for years due to not being even able to drive while I had my issues w/my jaw & everything related to that, and getting it back was easier said than done because I'd had like, two unpaid parking tickets at the time of my medical issues beginning & they kinda completely dropped out of sight, out of mind, only to multiply w/fees that were fucking ridiculous to contemplate & going down to the DMV or traffic court to try and argue them down, while my medical issues were still ongoing, was a nonstarter due to how little travel I was capable of in that state....

LOL. Not a great starting point when rebooting for Kalen 2.0 - and of course I'm not going to get into why we had to use my ID & everything for renting & all that, instead of Moukie's, just trust that there were Reasons.

And of course there are programs to help people out with these kinds of circumstances, which is basically what we've been doing since January 2022....navigating that labyrinth of red tape, because actually ACCESSING those programs, proving eligibility, meeting all requirements, keeping consistent with all requirements throughout the months of waiting on a verdict from higher-ups your file's been passed up the chain to....MUCH easier said than done. The hoops are just. The stuff of legends. Especially when you're still having trouble consistently staying stocked on the meds you need to be productive & functional, or even just keeping your phone active. Oof. All of that was very Not Fun.

Which segues into a bit of that venting I was talking about, because over & over the past couple years we've had well-meaning (and not so well-meaning & largely just obnoxious) people asking us in response to our donation posts like, well why don't we just move to a cheaper city? LOL. I just. I wish people would stop to think that maybe if there's such an obvious solution that someone hasn't availed themselves to yet, there's probably a REASON for that.

We actually had several. For starters, there's the fact that I still have stuff related to my jaw to deal with....I still have no teeth, lol, and haven't really been able to even START getting the bone grafts I need to be able to get implants at some point, so I'm not stuck with dentures for the next fifty years....and it took me literal years to find dentists familiar with my situation, willing to work with me on payment plans & longterm strategizing, etc.....not that easy to just start over with all of that in another, smaller city. Not to mention if I do have any problems with my prosthetic, LA's one of the only places that has ANY surgeons that deal with this specific kind of jaw replacement surgery, so I'd always have to come back here for any further medical related stuff.

But then there's additionally the fact that all those programs meant to help people like us who are literally trying to restart their lives after medical issues, homelessness, etc.....they're pretty much all specific to their own city. They're all contingent on each individual city's resources, services, populations and a million other details.....so moving to a different city basically means having to start all over again with applying to THAT city's housing aid programs & navigating THAT city's bureaucracy from its beginning & forfeiting however much time or progress you've put in already in the city you're currently in. And frankly, most cities don't HAVE as good of aid programs as LA does....its just...it takes fucking forever to actually make full USE of such programs, as evident from the fact that after almost two years, we're only FINALLY to the point where one of those programs has been able to actionably help us secure longterm housing.

(And also there's the fact that when we don't even have enough money for groceries, how cheap do people thinking picking up and moving to another city actually IS? Like. You need starter money to even GET there & get on your feet or you wind up in an even worse situation than we were in).

But honestly, we didn't have it so bad, we have been able to stay housed & working various odd jobs for the past two years....its just been long, and stressful, never actually knowing when or even IF we'd get to the point where we stopped worrying about being kicked out at any given moment, and there were times that looking for housing or trying to deal with bureaucratic red tape was the equivalent of a full time job, in terms of hours required.

All of which is to say....be aware when assuming the worst of various donation posts & their posters, that except in the case of actual scammers, no matter what you may think of how a particular donation request was worded or described their situation, its almost always VASTLY more complicated than can be summed up in a couple of easy to read paragraphs that might actually get people to help. I promise you, if super obvious solutions seem evident to you, they've occurred to the people living with that situation 24/7, and there's a reason that they haven't tried that solution or maybe they even did & for whatever reason it didn't actually work out.

And that said, all of this is also to say just....thank you again for everyone who's helped us out over the years. I know it often seems unending or like we're never getting our acts together, lol, but trust me, it feels that way to us too, times a million, and like....we're working on it. Its just. Much easier said than done. For every hurdle cleared, there's usually another one waiting to pop up like a fucking whack-a-mole game from Hell. Since January 2022 we've been consistently working towards a longterm, stable housing situation and this is it, this is what we were working towards.....we've been fully approved for relocation to the other site for the next year & then returning to this one after construction/renovation, w/a lease agreement for the next five years.....and that's the dream, honestly.

Genuine stability, not having to worry about whether we'll have to move at any given moment, actual housing security....allowing us to FINALLY focus on building our lives back up, instead of constantly grinding just to keep a roof over our head & make sure nobody's about to kick us out....and having the room to breathe & for the first time in literal years (in my case, almost seven at this point) actually prioritize something OTHER than figuring out where we stand on paperwork, filing, tracking down various liaisons to bug them yet again about an accurate timeline for when we'd be notified of whether or not we'd been approved for this program or that one, when we'd actually be relocating, when we had to make x payment by to ensure we didn't lose our qualified status, etc.

And I, for one, definitely can not WAIT to give more of a shit about the absolute stupidest shit imaginable instead of like....warily checking the hall to see if new eviction notices popped up overnight. LMAO.

Anyway. Like I said, we finally have our agreement in writing, we know where we're relocating to, and as soon as that actually happens - which they keep insisting should be any day now, sigh - we'll finally be in a much better place. As part of the relocation program we landed in, our rent at the other site is covered during the year this site is under construction, so already just from that alone we'll be much better off financially.

Moukie's been sending around a donation post this month, and we'll probably keep it circulating up until the day the movers arrive and they finally pull the trigger on us leaving this site, because for the last three months they've been insisting that October 2nd was absolutely going to be our last day here, and we planned around that timetable....meaning that since October 2nd came and went with us still here, our only jobs at the moment are whatever freelance ones we can scrounge up, since the new place is far enough away a commute to & from a workplace around HERE wouldn't be viable, so I can't even go look for a new one to replace the last one until we're actually in the area we'll be spending next year in, lol. So in the meanwhile we've basically been surviving off donations since freelance work is painfully dry at the moment, and as it is, the company Moukie does editing work for still hasn't paid them for their last job yet, which was back in September, I believe? Its ridiculous, but it is what it is.

So yeah, we'll keep that post circulating a bit longer til we're out of here for good, basically just for food money until we're settled in the new place & can grab a new 9-5 and I would say something about that damn patreon I'm always claiming I'll make except I am a Proven Liar Not To Be Trusted On That Subject at this point, but hey, once we're in the new place, maybe that will finally change.

That's basically everything I set out to ramble about, I think, so....I'm done. Wait. Lemme check - yeah, no, that's it, I'm good. I've said it before but it'll never stop being true: we would not have survived if it weren't for the kindness of strangers & the help of mutuals & followers & we really are so much more appreciative of it than I can ever adequately express. I know that can come across as lip service, but genuinely, people here have done more for us and to help us and to see us succeed than our families ever did and we've been reduced to ugly-crying more than once as a result. Its gotten bad, guys. Like. When I go all out, it's not a pretty sight. I've got that pale Irish skin that gets all splotchy when I'm emotional, my nose gets all stopped up, I make scrunchy faces like a baby that KNOWS its not as pretty as its parents keep trying to pretend and is out to prove it....its a whole mess.

And on that note - and imagery - I'm officially done here. Thanks for reading!

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makingspiritualityreal · 9 months

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There Are Different Levels to Parenting Competence.

The ultimate one can occur only when there is similarity between a parent and a child. The parent is perfectly equipped to give advice to the child, who faces a similar problem and tends to have similar reactions to that problem. Thus, the parent can relate and give advice.

The slightly lower, yet still efficient process occurs when the parent is highly attuned and empathetic towards the child despite their differences. As a result, they can imagine or brainstorm solutions together, which leads to an expanding trial and error process, where the teacher learns together with the student.

The neutral level occurs when a child faces a generational karmic blockage passed down from a parent. That means, they’re facing the same issue a parent failed to resolve themselves. The best situation that can come out of this predicament is the parent honestly admitting that they have no clue how to help and feel equally challenged in that given area. This way, the child has space to at least explore and maybe come up with ideas to fix the problem through exposure to other external factors.

These levels of parenting are tolerable and can lead to good outcomes. The next two are an active detriment to a child’s life and take years to fix, reaching into adulthood.

The first one is a child being scapegoated for not continuing a bad family pattern. A family tends to have a certain behavioral scheme they refuse to change, which is a detriment to some area of their life. They are completely unwilling even to discuss the issue. When a new generation grows up and shows that they could potentially try to solve the issue everyone is avoiding, they face criticism, and they’re being made to feel like they’re in the wrong. However, since the family tends to avoid the issue, it gives the child wiggle room to explore its solutions through other people outside the family circle, and if they come back with the issue solved years down the line, they may even hear “good for you”. The family circle didn’t want to go through the pain of dealing with the issue, but they welcome the fixed positive circumstances, and give the child some space for exploring the issue on their own, even if initially they were critical of their attempts. As a result, the child’s individuality and desire to make a positive change in their life is partially intact and able to surface enough to bring results.

The last stage, and sadly the worst, is being exposed to complete narcissism and attempts at extermination. That is when a parental figure is so triggered, they train the child into repeating their bad patterns by using fear conditioning, which sounds something like “you will only achieve xyz and fulfill this basic need in life if you do the exact same wrong thing I am doing and if you can’t, you will never get what you need”. That puts a child at a huge detriment, as it gives them no space to discover how to go about fulfilling their needs in a given area, since they have been conditioned into being afraid of looking at themselves. The child will now have to go through a very high degree of trauma to first get rid of the negative pattern that they most probably set up their whole life with, and then through a long process of discovering who they are under that trauma, and then they get a delayed start in life at being able to even begin finding out who they are. Simply battling the fear of embracing anything else in life rather than the abusive patterns that become our safety blanket in this area can be traumatizing.

The most difficult thing about this classification is, in every family, we all experienced all of these dynamics simultaneously, next to each other, in different areas of life, depending on the issues our elders brought into this life. As a result, the situation becomes very tangled and complicated.

So you may for example come from a very successful family that fosters your own talents and enables your own success, but has a huge shadow relative to personal relationships. As a result, you might find yourself positively goal driven but very lonely. One does not exclude the other, and to be truly happy in life, you need to deal with the whole scope of experiences and deal with each one of them accordingly, from the easiest to the hardest.

#spiritualjourney #spiritual healing #spiritual path #spiritual awakening #spiritual development #making spirituality real

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

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Oneshot: Loving An Endless

This oneshot was requested by @layla2-49. Bestie your idea was just 🥺😘👌🥵 I hope you enjoy!

Length: 5,899 words/15 pages

TW: mentions of past attempts of assault/domestic violence, fluff, a bit of Protective!Dream, Constantine has no filter, Death is adorable, smut, breeding kink, Soft!Dream, loss of virginity Feral!Dream

Being Johanna Constantine's assistant had its perks. The pay was good, great if she'd had any run-ins with the royals. She was a kind boss and a good friend. And, on days like today she brought in very very attractive men. He was the most beautiful, ethereal man I'd ever seen. His messy black hair glistened in the dull life of the office, his tall and slim frame was dressed in all black, and his eyes were a deep watery blue that caught the light and reflected stars.

I was staring. I knew I was, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. His gorgeous eyes watched me with a hint of curiosity, and under his steady gaze my face burned. Johanna bumped my shoulder, shaking me from my locked position. "The place is looking good, y/n!"

I smiled and shrugged at the not even half finished cleaning job I'd gotten done. "It's getting there. You have a lot of stuff."

"Yeah," she sighed. "But it's all useful!"

"Certainly not all," the man said, his voice deep and rich like honey. Oh dear god, I thought returning my gaze to him as he looked around the room with disgust, or maybe annoyance. It should be criminal to sound that good.

Johanna glared at him before catching the expression on my face. Shit. She smiled. "Oh! Where are my manners? Y/n this is the Sandman, sandman this is y/n!"

"Y/n," the man said, his eyes taking in my form. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Though I wish it'd been under better circumstances."

"Why's that?" I asked, fighting against the urge to physically fall when he'd said my name.

He sighed, looking through a box on the table. "I'm here in search of my stolen tools. I'm afraid it's quite dire, and your… Employer, is far more difficult than she should be."

Johanna mocked him with her hands. "Yada yada Sandman, beggars can't be choosers."

"Thieves should-"

She pointed a finger at him. "I bought that sand legally!"

He released a short sharp breath. "As you can see it's a complicated situation."

I nodded. "It seems so. I'm sorry your tools were stolen, Sandman. I'm more sorry you're stuck with Johanna, she's a lot."

"Hey!" Johanna gasped. "I could cut your pay!"

"You won't though," I replied, moving some boxes to help. I smiled up at the sandman. "So, what are we looking for?"

***

Dream couldn't put his finger on what made this woman different. Was it the beautiful gleam in her eyes? The softness of her smile? Or was it her willingness to jump into offering him, a stranger, her help? Whatever it was, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed her. Y/n, he thought again, unable to keep himself from repeating it to himself as he watched her move through the office looking through boxes alongside Constantine.

She was far more helpful, and far less destructive. As Constantine tossed yet another antique over her shoulder y/n sighed. "Would you stop breaking things?"

"It's not broken," Constantine assured. "Even if it is, I own it, so I can break it if I want."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jo."

Eventually Constantines memory was at last jogged by a photo of an ex lover and the location of his sand was revealed. Y/n offered to accompany them but the Constantine woman refused. He stood in the office with y/n as Constantine got ready to depart. She smiled at him, a smile that brought him a feeling of peace. "Well, I hope you find the rest of your things."

"Thank you, Y/n," he said softly.

"You're welcome, Sandman."

"Dream."

"I'm sorry?" She asked gently, her eyes glistening in the light.

"My name, one of them, is Dream."

A slight blush rose to her face. "Dream. It's a lovely name."

He bowed his head slightly. "Goodnight, y/n. Perhaps fate will bring our paths together again."

"One can hope," she said without thinking. He smiled at the way she scrambled trying to explain her meaning.

Lifting her hand to his lips he kissed it before silently leaving the crowded apartment and refocusing his mind on reclaiming his tools and saving The Dreaming from ruin. As the days turned into weeks, Dream still thought of the girl, still quietly saying her name to himself when no one would hear.

***

Months had passed since Johannas job for Dream and as embarrassing as it was, I felt disappointed. Part of me thought he'd show up again, if not first me then to give Johanna another job or something. But, he never did. I told myself it was for the best, he was a god, a god that surely had more important things to do than indulge me in conversation. I doubted the sandman even remembered me.

Johanna kept me busy, after I'd finally gotten her office clean and organized she'd started sending me research to comb through for her while she moved between work locations. It was tedious and could be difficult to find certain legends or creatures, but as always she paid me well and was a good friend. I stood at my desk, glaring down at the sprawled out documents of her next job, looking for something to help narrow down the possibilities of what she'd be up against once she arrived.

I rubbed my dry, tired eyes and sighed, answering my phone just as her ringtone sounded. "Johanna, remind me to strangle you when you get back."

"It's going well I see," she teased me. "Well I'm sending someone over to help out. He's got a bit more knowledge on this kind of thing, so he should make it pretty easy."

"You need to stop sending strangers to my house," I complained. "It's turning into a potential occupational hazard."

Johanna laughed. "I'd never send anyone to you that would hurt you, y/n. What kind of boss do you take me for?"

I smiled. "The bitchy kind."

"Ouch, that's a bit harsh!"

"How's Amsterdam?" I asked, leaning back against the desk and taking a sip of my tea.

"It's fine," she said rather dismissively. "Can't wait to be done with this job though. Already far more complicated than I wanted."

"You'll figure it out in no time Jo." I assured her.

She sighed. "Yeah, well have fun with your sandman."

My body froze, brows furrowing as I mulled over her words. "What do you mean?"

"The guy I'm sending to help you, it's him." She stated with a knowing tone. "I saw you checking him out, so have fun. Use protection."

"Johanna you know I don't-" My words were cut off by the sound of my doorbell. Shit.

"Relax, he's just there to help with your research. Now, I gotta run, call you soon."

The line went dead and I scoffed at her abrasiveness. Bitch. I straightened out my shirt and quickly fixed my messed up hair before opening the door to the tall figure clothed in black. His starry eyes rolled down my body as he tilted his head slightly. "Y/n."

"Dream," I said quietly. God he was more beautiful than I remembered. Stepping to the side and gesturing inward I blushed. "Please come in!"

He moved slowly through the small space of my townhouse, looking at everything that hung on the walls and regarding my bookshelf with interest. "You have a lovely home. Far more comfortable than your employers."

I laughed nervously. "Thanks, I don't do my best work when things are unorganized so I like to keep my space clean."

"A sentiment I share," he replied with a tiny smile. "Constantine said you were researching an ancient creature she believes is causing trouble."

"Yeah," I turned and gathered up the papers from my desk. "This is all I've been able to find. Everything else is either in a dead language or just illegible. Probably why she enlisted you to help."

Dream simply nodded as he took the papers from me, cold fingers gliding smoothly over the tips of my own and sending a chill through me. This is just pathetic, I scolded myself. He's so far out of your league! Look at him! He probably has hundreds of beautiful goddess lovers. I pulled myself out of the slew of pitiful thoughts and jumped back into researching. Dream had taken a seat in one of my chairs and leafed through the papers and books I'd pulled out while I focused on online research.

I found myself looking up from my laptop and watching him often. The way he sat so casually, yet refined and the look of concentration on his angular face… It was cute and distracting. He was distracting. His eyes looked up from the book, an amused glint passing through them. "Anything new?"

"No," I answered quickly, looking back down at my screen. "Nothing new."

Dream hummed thoughtfully and closed his book, moving toward my shelves and looking. "Perhaps we're looking in the wrong place."

I watched him curiously and listened intently as he spoke. He had such a fast knowledge, one that no book or letter could possibly hold. It was fascinating. His hunch had proved correct and after telling Johanna of the new development we sat in my home and talked for hours. Dream asked me about my life. He asked and actually listened, actually cared. It was something I hadn't experienced in years and it felt nice. In turn he openly answered every question I could ask him, his openness was unexpected and refreshing.

With a loud yawn I smiled at Dream. "You're a very interesting person, Dream of the Endless."

"As are you, y/n." He nodded his head towards my bedroom. "It's late, you should retire for the night."

"Probably," I agreed, twisting my fingers together nervously as I asked, "Will I see you again?"

"Do you wish to?"

"Of course I do!" I said, far too enthusiastically. "I mean… Yes, I would very much wish to see you again."

Dream smiled. "Then you will. Goodnight, y/n."

It felt like a dismissal, a non answer, but I forced myself to ignore it. "Goodnight, Dream."

I settled into bed not long after he'd left, pulling the warm covers up around me and at last being able to close my eyes and relax into my bed. My dreams were not creative, but not boring either. I usually thought of relaxing locations, rolling hills or quiet streams, tonight it was a crystal clear lake that mirrored the starry night sky inside it. As I sat among the flowers and blades of grass, listening to the calm and sketching in my notebook - a hobby I rarely got time to practice in the real world - I felt a familiar sensation roll over me as a tall figure in black walked towards me with a smile.

"Dream," I whispered, looking up at him in awe. "How…"

"You are asleep," he answered. "And so you have entered into my realm."

Of course, this was his whole thing. I smiled brightly, fixing my hair. "When I asked if I'd see you again… I wasn't expecting it to be so soon."

He looked around, eyes shining impossibly brighter. "You've a beautiful imagination."

My cheeks burned. "Oh this is nothing. I'm sure you see far more creative things."

"It's the simplicity of it that makes it beautiful. Most people seek out the feeling of comfort and home in their dreams. Yours reflects the beauty of your mind perfectly." He looked back down at me, holding his hand out. "Would you like to see my home?"

I jumped up, gently taking hold of his hand. "Of course! The way you described it was magnificent."

Dream nodded with a light chuckle. "I hope it lives up to your expectations."

"It will," I assured him. "I doubt you're capable of creating anything that wouldn't."

That was the first time I'd visited The Dreaming and it was just as beautiful as he described, as I could have ever imagined. Since that night Dream always came to me in my dreams. We'd walk and talk and grew close. He was my friend, one I'd fallen further and further in love with each passing night. I didn't care if he never felt the same, simply being around him was enough for me. Johanna, however, was constantly pulling every string she could to try and force me to tell him of my feelings.

She rolled her eyes from the couch as I said goodbye to Dream and Matthew. They'd taken to visiting me in the Waking World when they had a free moment. The second they'd gone, Johanna was on her rant. "You're seriously never going to tell him?"

"There's nothing to tell Jo."

"Bullshit!" She laughed. "You're head over heels for him! You have been from the start!"

I signed. "And? He's my friend. I don't want to ruin that. Besides, he probably has goddesses or something that he'd prefer."

Johanna scoffed. "God are you really that blind?"

"What?"

"He's smitten with you." She smiled widely. "Do you think he just pops by every friends house every day?"

A nervous ache filled my chest. "He doesn't…"

"Y/n."

"It doesn't matter. The second I tell him I want to wait until marriage for…" I sighed. "It's just not in the stars, Jo."

She looked disappointed. "How do you know if you refuse to try? Not everyone's gonna be like the last, y/n."

***

Dream had poured himself into winning the heart of y/n. He'd grown more and more enchanted with her as the days passed, so much so that he could scarcely be apart from her. His thoughts ran rampant with thoughts of her, filthy ones but more so the soft need to know what it would be like to wake to her each morning or to hear her laughing while he did his work. Dream wanted to spend every minute beside her.

Night had been their main meeting time, but as he waited on the bridge she was nowhere in sight. Finding her was easy, but the sight that he appeared in the middle of was one that made his anger twist and twine around him. Y/n was sitting on the edge of her bed, her arms curled around herself, holding tattered and torn bits of her top to her. The man responsible pounded on the door, shouting threats and destroying her living room. He quietly waved his hand, willing the pounding and shouting to stop and fixing her clothes before he took a seat beside her, watching the room fade away to a meadow of flowers and quiet.

He sat by her side as the fear of the nightmare faded from her and she slowly relaxed. Her hand settled over his and squeezed. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry you had to relive that. My nightmares should have known better."

She shook her head. "They're just doing their job."

"Perhaps," he agreed, meeting her eyes. "But it will not happen again."

Y/n smiled, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "Thank you."

Though his body hummed at the feeling of her pressed against him, his anger was not satisfied. "Who was he?"

"An ex boyfriend."

"What happened between you?"

She sighed. "I told him I wanted to wait until marriage to be intimate."

His anger grew. How could anyone react to such an innocent thing with such cruelty and violence? "I would have his name."

"Why?" Her head lifted from his shoulder and he looked down at her gently, even through his anger.

"He hurt you… He tried to defile you. Such evil actions require punishment."

Y/n looked down, a sad nervous look filling her face. "What would you do to him?"

Dream was creative and he could no doubt think of something painful enough. "Whatever you asked me to."

"And if I asked you to let him live?"

He ground his teeth together. "Then I would. For you."

She smiled, a few tears still staining her cheeks. "Thank you."

He wiped the wetness from her face. "Stop thanking me for such small acts of affection."

"Affection?" She asked with wide eyes. "Does that mean you…"

"I love you," he answered as soon as her voice trailed off.

"Even though I…" She sighed again. "Even though I don't want to sleep with you?"

His head tilted slightly. "Do you think me so petty?"

"No!"

Dream held her tight. "If you wish to wait for marriage for such physical intimacy then it is marriage I shall offer you. Until then, there are other ways to be intimate with those you love."

Joyful tears filled her eyes. "You're magnificent, Dream of the Endless."

"Morpheus." He pushed her hair away from her face. "I want you to call me by my true name."

"Morpheus," she repeated softly. The sound of her voice speaking his name made every inch of him tingle. "Would you…" She tried to look down again, but he held her face and her eyes. "Will you kiss me?"

Dream nodded. "Always."

The second their lips met he felt whole. He'd kissed many before, but it was her lips that set his heart ablaze, her soft sounds that filled him with peace. Y/n was made for him and he'd not rest until she felt every ounce of the love she deserved. He'd not rest until she was his queen and wife.

***

Ever since the night I'd dreamt of my ex, of the horror he put me through, I'd not had another nightmare. And since then, Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, had become my boyfriend. Boyfriend. I giggled at the word. It felt so simple, far too tame for the level of devoted love he'd given to me. Every moment I spent with him was full of freedom and happiness. I'd never felt so light and unburdened. He'd introduced me to his sister, Death, and had looked so happy when we got along instantly.

Death had visited me often since, taking me to lunch and talking to me about anything and everything. She was fun and lighthearted, a good compliment to Dreams' usually laid back attitude and occasional pout. She'd asked me if I wanted Dream, truly wanted him and when I told her I did her joyful demeanor only grew. Since then Dream seemed to be busier and slightly stressed.

I looked over at Death as she smiled at a group of kids beside me. "Is there something wrong with Dream?"

"No," she answered "He's in surprisingly high spirits."

"Then why is he so stressed out whenever he sees me?"

"It's probably the nerves. Asking such a big question is always a little scary."

I turned to her fully, mouth hanging open. "What question?"

Her eyes grew wide and she slapped her hand onto her face. "Don't talk about the proposal! He said don't! Oh what a terrible time to mishear someone."

"Proposal?!" I shrieked. "He's proposing?"

She smiled and shrugged. "Surprise?"

My heart pounded in my ears as the news sunk in. He and I had spoken of marriage often, and we'd been dating - courting as Dream liked to call it - for almost a year now. It wasn't rushed, but it certainly wasn't the longest wait. I was nervous, but not in the way I was used to. This was an excited kind of nervous, the kind that made my stomach fill with butterflies and my skin tingle. "He's proposing."

Death smiled, rubbing my arm fondly. "You're going to be my sister soon."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to say yes?" I joked.

"Because you love him."

"When's he going to do it?"

She stood quickly. "Nope! I'm not spoiling any more of the surprise!"

That night Morpheus and I walked the whole of The Dreaming and I listened to him pour his soul out to me. Everything he thought and felt was laid bare before my feet and I was left in awe at the depth of his passion not just for me but for all his creations and even humanity. He loved so deeply and so fiercely that nothing could come between him and that love. Not time or distance, not anger or sorrow. When he got down on one knee, his sparkling night sky eyes looking up at me, and asked me to marry him I didn’t hesitate to tell him yes. I wanted him forever, wanted to live beside him, share his bed and build a life together, a family.

***

Wedding planning was rather easy when your fiance can create anything you could think or dream of with a wave of his hand. And so here we were on the day of the wedding, Death standing beside me fussing over my dress, Delirium - Dreams younger sister - crying in front of me one moment and then insisting that we needed more flowers the next. I would have normally felt nervous, but instead I just felt ready. My dress was one that Dream had designed, a long ball gown that glistened and sparkled everytime I moved, looking like it’d been made of pure silver and starlight. My hair had been done elegantly with a modest crown gleaming on my head and earrings swaying softly as I moved.

“You look beautiful,” Death said with a beaming smile.

I smoothed a hand down the fabric of my dress. “So, after today I’ll be immortal?”

She nodded. “I’ll give you my gift when the two of you seal the marriage with that kiss.”

“The kiss of immortality,” I joked. “It sounds far better than the alternative.”

Death rolled her eyes and squeezed my hands. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

I only nodded, the raw emotion of what was happening filling my throat. Fiddlers Green was filled with people, guests from the waking world and other realms beyond The Dreaming. A path of petals lead down the aisle and to the archway of blooming flowers, butterflies and twinkling lights. Morpheus stood beneath it, no longer in his usual attire but instead wearing a form fitting black suit that seemed to be made of the night sky itself. He smiled as our eyes met and Death squeezed my hand with a quiet whisper of, “We really did try with his hair.”, as she walked me down the aisle to his side.

“My love,” he said softly, holding his hand out to me and pressing a soft kiss to it. “You look beautiful.”

“You look amazing,” I returned the compliment, drinking in his form with delight. “You always do.”

The ceremony was short, Destiny spoke quietly but with an authority that made each word feel purposeful and infinite, and as he smiled to each of us at the end I felt my heartbeat quicken and my smile grow wider and wider. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Morpheus looked at Death first, who nodded with joyful tears running down her cheeks. Our lips pressed together, as they had so often before, but this time I could feel something different. Whether it was the pleasant sensation of Death's gift filling my lungs with immortal life or the simple fact that Dream of the Endless was now my husband I didn’t know. I was just happy, so happy to finally have him forever.

The party was modest and regal. Far more people bowed to me than I’d ever thought was possible, but Dream assured me it was something I’d get used to. He and I mingled with the guests for a while before everyone returned to their own realms and homes and night fell over The Dreaming. Morpheus and I walked through Fiddlers Green for a moment before retiring to his room, the only place in the palace that’d I’d only been a handful of times before now. I was nervous, and Morpheus could tell.

He kissed my shoulder gently. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, y/n.”

I smiled. How could one person be so good and understanding? “I want to. I want to be with you.”

“You’re amazing,” he said softly. “I swear you’ll not regret sharing this piece of yourself with me, my love, my wife.”

“I could never regret you,” I said, turning to face him.

He kissed me with the passion I fell in love with. Everything he was he poured into the movements of our lips as his gentle hands unwound my hair from its accessories and slid down my skin as he untied the laces of my dress. His lips pulled away from mine, moving down my jaw and sucking at my throat, biting gently at my pulsepoint. My unexpected moan filled the room and I could feel Dream smile against my skin as he continued his movements. “You make such lovely sounds.”

His voice was low and dark, holding the love and adoration he bore me but lacing both with a hunger I’d never experienced before. My slightly shaking hands pushed the suit jacket from his shoulders and ran down his chest, tugging the buttons apart slowly. He’d pulled back from me to watch the movement of my fingers with dark eyes. I blushed harder the closer I got to his pelvis. “Is this okay?”

Morpheus tilted his head slightly and brushed his nose against mine. “I could watch you undress me for eternity.”

The second his shirt was off my hands ran up his chiseled chest, tracing the line of lean muscles that he had until I wound my arms around his shoulders, pulling myself up flush against him. “I love you.”

“As I love you.” His hands moved, slowly sliding the sleeves of my dress down until the whole gown began to slip off me. With burning in his eyes he looked at me and asked, “May I see you?”

Swallowing the thick nervous lump I nodded. “Yes.”

The dress hit the floor, leaving me bare before him and it took every ounce of control and confidence I had not to cover my chest immediately. Morpheus’ dark gaze lazily slid down my body, his cold hands moving carefully to run along the smooth skin of my arms as he pulled me back into his chest. He lifted my burning face to his and smiled. “You are a goddess, in spirit and in flesh.”

I kissed him harder than I’d meant to. Our teeth clacked together as he met my enthusiasm with the same energy, his hands gently twisting into my hair and his tongue exploring my mouth, pulling the breath from my lungs and replacing it with a hot ball of burning need. I needed to be closer to him, needed to feel every inch of his skin on my own. I needed him. “Morpheus,” I whispered against his lips. “I need you.”

“You have me,” he replied gently urging me backward into the bed. “All of me, forever.”

As soon as my back hit the silk of his sheets a shiver ran down my spine. I’d expected him to climb on top of me, but he didn’t. Instead I lifted myself up onto my elbows and watched him as he knelt before me, gently pulling my legs apart. His sparkling eyes met mine and he smiled. “What are you doing?”

“I am finally worshiping you,” he said plainly as he lowered his face to my burning pussy and pressed a kiss to the mound. I gasp tore through my throat as I gripped his hair tightly.

“Morpheus!” I cried out as his tongue licked at me, finding my swollen and throbbing clit with ease and focusing on it. Each circle his tongue drew against me pulled a new noise from my chest and filled my gut with a tightening coil. “Oh god, Morpheus!” A slight pinch of tightness had my fingers tightening even more in his dark mane as he gently eased one finger into me. My legs shook as the new, slightly uncomfortable, feeling overshadowed everything else.

His mouth pulled away from my clit and his eyes looked up at me. “Easy now, my love. Just focus on the pleasure of my mouth.”

Dream’s finger moved slowly in easy movements as his tongue worked my clit again. Soon the uncomfortable sensation of his long finger faded into even more pleasure, so much so that when he added another finger I felt the coil tighten and tighten within me. I pulled his hair gently, desperate to bring his face, his mouth closer to where I needed him. “More, please, Morpheus more!”

I felt a smile and a soft, nearly inaudible whisper against me as he spoke, “That’s it, let go my love.”

The pace he set was both gentle but fast, tongue swirling and fingers pumping in the perfect synchronization to pull the coil tight enough that it snapped. White filled my vision and I moaned loudly, wantonly, as I came against his lips and fingers. He continued his movements, easing me down from the high of my orgasm before pressing his lips to my leg, moving up higher and higher, kissing and sucking across the plain of my stomach before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples. The movements of him worked me right back up, the coil once laxed now tightened again. “Morpheus!” I whined.

“I know,” he said, moving to my other nipple and giving it the same affection before nipping at my throat. “If at any moment you change your mind, tell me.”

I pulled him up and stroked my hand down his face. “I need you.”

As his thin frame settled between my thighs his eyes bore down into mine, soft and full of comfort even through the endlessness of his lust. He lined himself up with my entrance and slowly began to push in. One of his hands pressed into my hip, steading himself and me as he moved, the other cupped the back of my head, giving him the best access to tangle his tongue with mine, swallowing the noises I made. The more he pushed into me, the more noticeable the slight sting was. It wasn’t painful, not really, but the sensation of it was so new that it caused tears to fill my eyes. Morpheus paused a few times, kissing away my tears before moving again until his long, thick length was seated fully inside me.

He was perfectly still against me, breathing heavily down into my neck as I adjusted to him. My cunt squeezed him eagerly as the stinging began to fade, replaced by the pleasurable sensation of him. My chest was heaving as I wiggled my hips against him, the movement sending even more pleasure coursing through me. “Dream, move please.”

Keeping his movements slow and gentle he complied, setting a steady pace as my legs wound around his waist. God it felt so good. His breathy, quiet moans against me filled my head with pure bliss as I slowly began to rock against him, the pace quickening. “Y/n.”

My head fell back onto the mattress as Morpheus moved his other hand to my hips, holding me tightly. It was all too much, the tightening of the coil in my gut, the way he moaned my name, the feeling of him pushing into me. There was so much love filling the space between us, and I couldn't help the words that tumbled from my mouth. "I love you," I gasped, my eyes closing tightly. "I can't wait to have your children, to start our family."

Everything stilled for a moment and Morpheus touched my face, coaching my eyes open. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course," I breathed. "There's nothing I want more."

His chest heaved and his grip on my hip tightened. He dropped his head to my throat. "Fuck. I wanted to be gentle with you, but… God you don't know what you do to me."

His teeth locked around my neck, sucking a deep hickey into the skin. I moaned even louder than before, hands grabbing at him as he continued to do it again and again. "Please, Morpheus!"

"What do you want?" He asked roughly.

"Fuck me," I murrmered, nails hitting into his arms. "Come inside me, put a baby in me."

Without warning he lifted a leg over his shoulder and began truly fucking into me, his hands squeezing and groping me as he lost himself to my words. I writhed and moaned beneath him, my hands holding onto him for dear life as he pulled another orgasm from me, not stilling or slowing at all as he chased his own, bringing me right back into the throws of another. His hand slid up my stomach. "You're going to look so beautiful pregnant."

Oh god! I whined internally, all my capabilities to speak long gone as his hips began to stutter and he held me tightly against him, pushing his hot come deep inside me before collapsing on top of me.

As we lay tangled together, my fingers running through his hair and kissing lips pressing against my skin, I couldn't help but feel happy. This was all I'd ever wanted, all I ever could have hoped for. His head lifted and his beautiful starry eyes met mine. Forever was going to be a very happy place.

***

Dream walked the paths of Fiddlers Green, following the sounds of laughter to the small pond where his beautiful wife sat in the tall grass, soaking up the sunshine and the little girl with messy raven hair chased the butterflies with gleeful laughter. He moved to his wife's side, looking down at her with a smile. "There you two are."

She held her hand out, a silent request for his help in standing, one he answered instantly. Once she was on her feet she moved to press a kiss to his lips, falling short by a few inches. She sighed and looked up at him with a pout. The roundness of her belly made reaching up to kiss him difficult, but it made Dreams heart soar as hell lowered himself to kiss her. "Hello, my darling."

"Hello, my love," he answered, rubbing a soothing hand over her stomach, feeling the strong kicks of his child beneath his palm. "And hello to you little prince."

"He's growing restless," y/n warned fondly. "Not enough space for his tall little body."

"Soon he'll have all the space he needs," Dream assured her with a wide smile.

"Daddy!" His daughter leapt up in between them and into his arms, holding him tightly in her grasp. "Come see the butterflies! They're super quick so you gotta go slow and slow and slow until you get close enough to jump!"

He chuckled, allowing the tiny girl to drag him toward the insects. As she watched them he watched her, his heart full for the first time in eons. Forever was no longer cold and lonely, but bright and hopeful. He kissed his daughter's head and smiled at his beautiful y/n. Forever was a happy place indeed.

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dreamsandroots · 2 years

Text

Foreshadow

She rematerialised, enclosed in a tight space, smothered in a liquid void so opaque that it felt as if she was being pulled out from her body. As she attuned her eyes to the black, small patterns and shapes began to form on the walls of the cave and she could see what looked like tiny figures gathering materials at the periphery and bringing them to the centre of her vision. The figures began to assemble their resources together according to some unknown organising principle until the makings of a large structure formed in front of her very eyes. At this point in the vision, time seemed to take on an extra sensory dimension: the structure continued forming at such a pace that the figures of light had almost become extraneous afterthoughts, and as it continued to grow the structure became imbued with life, an overarching abundance of presence which entirely exceeded her field of vision until she could only make out its body in parts: the ankles, a left shoulder, a forehead that stretched into heavens, the space between the fingers on the right hand, and for the longest time she struggled to bring her eyes into focus to make out the full figure of this impossible being. After another unfathomably diverse span of time had passed she found herself shifted—despite her certainty that she was still, just as assuredly, enclosed in the tight space as when she’d first regained consciousness—into a position where she could make out the face of the giant, a great towering figure, androgynous, asexual, whose eyes were alight with the same patterns of energy that had first appeared on the cave walls and who may or may not have been her ancestor or even some future version of herself. From her strained vantage it seemed as if the being’s face was resting, idle, and its eyes appeared to be staring off to some distant complex phenomenon beyond any conscious reckoning, and while she contemplated this vacant stare for another near-eternity—her neck straining as if she were trying to make out the sunspots on a particular star in the night sky—she watched as the face became ancient and withered, the flames growing dull until they departed from the great orbs and began to situate themselves over the entire bodily structure, and although the figure’s lips stayed cold, she could hear a booming voice in her head saying “this was our home, we made this our home for untold aeons and now it has become lost to us. We tried to evolve but you remained hungry. We gave you life and now you will eat until you are empty.” The infinitesimal lights reemerged and were now penetrating the giant’s skin with increasing rapidity until she felt that the structure was about to be engulfed in an exploding sun and her dark cavern became illuminated in an all-consuming, cataclysmic white light.

Before she opened them she had become aware of the sharp red sunlight in her eyes. Noting the residual puddle her mouth had made during the night, Elle assumed that her sleep had been a deep one in spite of the less than ideal circumstances surrounding her temporary lodgings. As if to remind herself of the trajectory of her journey, Elle examined her immediate surroundings, piecing together the unfolding situation along two distinct yet overlapping axes:

Alive (almost certainly)

Close (somewhere in the city)

In her recollections too, she held to measure the Doctor’s grim warning:

Even if you somehow track her down she’ll never be a part of you again.

Looking through the cluttered bodies of women who wanted to sleep safe Elle fossicked for her few belongings, quickly put her boots on her feet and her coat over her shoulders and circumnavigated a path to the foyer where two dozing men, employees of the city, battled against low oxygen levels to stay awake. Flickering eyes at her approach the man at the checkin startled in sharp breath and a moment’s haze, remembering that, officially, at least one of them was expected to be alert for the entirety of their shift.

Umma Miss skallaway, umma mehaame. The waking man flapped his colleague over the head with a slight chuckle.

She couldn’t have cared less but did not feel like explaining this. Better to simply skip over any recognition of their possible derelictions of duty.

Ahh umma, sorry I don’t know.. I’m a visitor to the red city.

The man’s face got friendlier the moment he registered her accent.

Ahh visitor, I should have guessed. Where to, Miss?

The second administrator, noting this too, resigned himself back into slumber.

How to word this without raising suspicion?

I’m looking for a friend who travelled here for work half a cycle past. I haven’t heard from her in a while. I was wondering–

Ehh, amma eppa Miss, has this been reported?

Raised brow, the hint of an eyeroll. Questions of legitimacy must be implicit in this kind of inquiry. No doubt these men hear of such stories frequently. She’d heard this was a place where you might be able to bribe yourself towards your ends but she had nothing anyone might want. Well, except for...

It was reported but we didn’t really hear anything back. The system… it seems–

The man interrupted with a resigned—though not entirely apathetic—voice:

Yes eppa, it set up to keep you waiting in a queue that never ends.

The man seemed to be weighing his conscience against some potential risk known only to those not foreign to the hidden operations of this part of the world. She took his consideration as a good sign regardless, if indeed she read the situation correctly.

Shorter than she was, a bit portly in his unkempt uniform. Some greys on the head. An innocence to the eyes, residues of a baby face. Longing. Lost opportunities. This was the face not of a cruel or unreasonable man. But she could sense his apprehension, because the energy it takes to help a stranger is enough to wear you down. And if you’re caught up in it, it could be your end.

She’d never intended to use her gift this way. It was precisely this that had broken her apart to begin with. But she had to do it, had to look into his hunger and find some way to feed this man who knew the red city.

And just like that she’d split herself in two again and had his gaze fixed into her translucent eyes.

Elle didn’t say anything, she just let her thoughts soften. When you finish your shift I would like you to show me around the blood district today. I can’t offer you anything but I would be so grateful.

The man’s expression remained listless yet he nodded with hesitation, a sigh on his lips.

Okay, I get it umma, I can help you, but just for today.

#Prose #story #dreambodylanguage

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hearthandheathenry · 2 months

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everyone supposedly has an fs and soulmate yada yada yada but if we havent met ours and if we dont care to really date anyone would it matter if we passed away early, like would our fs or soulmate feel it? do we have to have our lives put together in order to form the connection with our fs?

so many ppl including relatives and cousins either have their lives put together or theyre certainly doing something right and they have all either got their partners or careers and im just like how is that not happening for me then i question if i even want that and then i think well it doesnt matter cause i will die eventually so whats the point?

honestly im not fussed abt existing these days, like im not anyone special i dont have a need to achieve things anymore, used too but then i said fuck it and gave up on trying to exist and succeed. its always something like im either at the wrong place or wrong timing or some other situation in the past that held me back from going for something, or i just lacked what i needed to succeed or im too old not young enough not pretty not rich enough its always that im seemingly not something enough and if life is always abt trying to be a people pleaser instead of pleasing ourselves then im done lol. i will gladly yeet myself out of society and into heaven if i have too as thats probably the only point where id be truly happy as i wouldnt have to do anything ever again and i would never have to feel regret or shame for not having my life put together at this age.

sorry for ranting but im just so over being a person, it has severly sucked. wouldnt recommend instead be a rock in ur next life if there even is a next life, if theres a next life then i would also be done with that full stop too. and the thing about soulmates or even trying to get a partner is its yet another thing that you have to be almost attached to them 24/7 like friends where people can and will dissapoint you over and over and a lot of people will pretend to like you then only want something from you for their benefit so again whats the point when wanting a partner or even a social group? but if we donr have that we are never going to be on anyones radar anyway? might as well not bother with any of it tbqfh.

again sorry for ranting but either i want to not feel like i lack so much even in skills or talents and most times i just want to be a nobody oh wait thats what i already am haha.

Woah! First and foremost, I want to tell you that life is worth living and your life matters. Truly. For no other grand reason but that you are YOU and your purpose is being here, or you wouldn't exist. The universe has a reason for you to be here, or multiple reasons, and you matter, even if you struggle to find that reason(s). And please, let me know if you need help finding resources for mental health.

Second, I think a lot of people feel all these things, and I definitely have felt this way in the past. Maybe sometime I'll write my life story and how things have changed over the years or something, idk. BUT, you are not alone, and there is help out there and ways to make your life better, no matter your situation. Your life could be complete crap and you would still be able to turn it around. I am a firm believer in this.

The caveat, though? Its your choice, and your hard work that makes your life what you make it. We are all given different circumstances but just because we are born in some mud doesn't mean we have to wallow in it. The happiest and most fulfilled people have made the active choice to pull themselves out of their depression and habits and have changed themselves and their lives through emotional and physical labor. Life is not easy. It never claimed to be. THAT SAID, though, life is easier the more aligned you get with the universe and everything around you, and is truly breathtaking, and that comes with healing and changing. You learn psychology (how to take control of your mind), the ways of the world (how to build a support system and community), the metaphysical ways of the world and things we can't explain (some people call this spirituality or religion), and a past time that you genuinely enjoy (some people call this a purpose or sometimes its just a way to make money/survive), and you end up creating a life for yourself that you enjoy. That is the secret to living a happy life. Not higher education, not certain jobs, but honing in those skills will unlock the (seemingly) secret of being happy and will help lead to everything falling in place. A support system is usually the first step because figuring ourselves out is hard and we will need support, then we start mastering our minds and thoughts, and then we usually move onto spirituality to help us answer things our logical mind can't explain, and then we usually find our purposes or things that make life worth living. Things that truly make us glad to be alive.

We all reach a breaking point in our lives (anyone heard of the famous midlife crisis?) and are then given a choice of what we want to do. Usually there's truly no way but up, because the other option is to simply give up and not live. And we, intrinsically, really do want to LIVE. Maybe just not the life we were living. So we get help. Professional help. We reach out to our loved ones and figure out who we can actually rely on when we're at our worst. We build our support network while we work on our minds with the professionals. We start our journey of mastering our minds and working in conjunction with our bodies again instead of giving up. We work on our anxiety, depression, mental issues, and stop overworking ourselves and ignoring our body's signals for rest or change. And then we're left with other questions and needs, so we start delving into spirituality and religion. We start looking at the world around us and society in a different light, because obviously the way society trained us isn't working. The system doesn't work. It wasnt made for spiritual beings, it was made for work drones. And humans are not work drones. Some people find solace in certain religions. Some people just adopt different spiritual practices. We all answer our questions in different ways. We're all living in our own realities and through the lens of our own minds that are wired differently. And then our community and support networks grow. And our minds grow. And our abilities grow. And we start to see these little glimmers of hope of why we like being alive. We look at things in a new light. And then maybe we finally see our purpose, the one outside of just being (which is our main purpose), and, big hint, it usually has something to do with helping others for a lot of people. It is almost never a specific job or title or actual act of doing something. Its an idea. A construct. Maybe we were made to help teach others. Maybe we were made to bring joy to others. Maybe we were made to create with others. Maybe its all these and more. It usually has something to do with connecting with others, which is where we all find the most happiness. Being seen and heard. Helping others be seen and heard. Making a difference, finding meaning. Our hearts and our minds know the plan long before we realize it.

We all have the power to get here. But its a choice. And its a tough one. But its one every single one of us is capable of making. We start by choosing ourselves. By choosing to love ourselves. By radical self love and compassion. And once we choose ourselves, then we can start connecting with others in a more meaningful way, instead of people-pleasing or living for others wants or wishes. We need to be authentically ourselves first. It all starts with you. The real you deep down.

So, I do not have the answers to the questions you ask. The philosophical questions you brought forth is different for everyone, because everyone believes something different. What I say doesn't matter if it does not resonate with your truth and your reality. And no one truly knows these things or has the answers until we have left this world, and the fun part about life is experimenting and trying to figure out the questions while we're here.

What I will say, is finding the answers is easier when you don't skip steps. You seem to have a lot you need to ask yourself before asking others, and finding what matters most to you and figuring out why you have the questions you do and what that means mentally and emotionally. I sense a lot of anxiety and depression and anger and grief and self confidence issues, which will get in the way of a lot of things you are talking about achieving or have questions about if they are not processed and addressed. These are all normal things to deal with, but still things that need to be dealt with.

I could rattle off my own personal opinions about everything you ask, but again, it will not resonate with you if its not for you, and the mental blocks will still be there even after.

Having answers to things does nothing for us if we do not know how to use the information given to us.

Work on yourself and learn how to use information to make changes, and you will start to understand more about the world and things in it, even unseen.

The information I've given above tends to ring true for everyone I've encountered in life thus far, no matter age/gender/race/etc. People just figure it out at different ages and stages in their lives. But even religions tend to agree on these necessary steps taken to reach a higher place in our lives. I hope that it's helpful enough to start you on your journey towards everything you want, and lead you to a life that makes sense for you and one that you find happiness in.

(Adding this post to my pinned list under "How To Find Happiness" for anyone else who may need to hear this information)

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imariejoyce · 3 months

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A trip with impact...

a post from September 24, 2017

Out of the urban hustle... and it's incredible! Over a year ago, I found myself in this place unexpectedly. It wasn't planned and was initially quite a hassle. I even almost had a conflict with the travel organizer due to a sudden change in the travel itinerary. Imagine packing clothes suitable for both spelunking and visiting churches, only to be told last minute, "Ma'am, the Cagayan trip is canceled due to other joiners backing out. If you're interested, we have a Caramoan trip instead. Would you like to join?" ... and I was like... from mountains to beaches?! But, to cut this introduction short, I grabbed the opportunity. My cousin was with me, and since we had already taken leave from work, we decided to give it a shot.

At first, it seemed sooooo far away and quite a hassle. Especially during the moment we boarded the van – there was a couple who arrived first and had been waiting for almost an hour. They were giving feedback that felt like a subtle jab at us for being late, not realizing the circumstances leading to our tardiness. Anyway, the journey began, with almost 12 hours of land travel – a real pain in the butt, but we persevered. We arrived at the hotel where we would stay for three days around 8 am. Our tour package included meals, making things hassle-free once we were there. So, this is how we spent most of our time in Bicol...

Day 1.

Commenced the day with breakfast followed by a meet-and-greet with the other participants. In total, there were nine of us in the van: the organizer, four accountants, a couple, my cousin, and myself. Initially, the atmosphere was a bit awkward, as is customary in such situations. However, once the tour began, everything changed. Conversations flowed effortlessly. :)

Our first activity was island hopping, and oh my! The place was incredibly stunning. It was a private experience for the nine of us, with an hour of sailing before reaching the first island. Positioned near the boatman, we felt the breeze on our faces, only hearing the boat's engine noise. I cherished that moment, just gazing at the sea, kissed by the sun. It made me ponder various things – my future, dreams, and the privilege of living in that moment, witnessing the wonders of creation. It was a refreshing escape from the bustling crowds of Manila, leaving behind the stress of workdays, and fully embracing a disconnected state due to poor signal. Every time I travel, I can't help but feel blessed. Day 1 was delightful, even though island hopping made us a bit sun-kissed. I truly enjoyed every bit of it.

As the day unfolded, we had our first dinner together with the other participants. This is always one of my favorite aspects of joining tours – meeting new people, getting to know them, and realizing the magic of connections. I strongly believe in destiny, that everyone you meet leaves an impact on your life, regardless of its magnitude. One person stood out during my Caramoan travel experience – one of the accountants in our group. Among the four, she was the single one, but also the most beautiful. Her manner of speaking, laughter, storytelling, comments, and her overall demeanor exuded sophistication. I couldn't help but wonder why she was still single. And so, the favorite part began – sharing stories.

What's delightful about these moments is the fearlessness in sharing, knowing that whatever is shared stays within that space. After the tour, you'll only see them in pictures, and you know they won't judge or be biased in their comments. Among all the shared stories, hers resonated the most. She had been engaged before, and suddenly, she and her fiancé decided not to proceed with the wedding. Hearing her story was genuinely saddening, yet she shared that she chose to focus on her work, hobbies (photography), and her niece and nephews. She seemed happy, and I could see a reflection of myself in her – strong and independent. And thus, Day 1 concluded, leaving us with profound realizations. Living in the moment, appreciating what you have, strength, independence, trust, forgiveness, and learning from the past without regrets for the lessons gained.

Day 2.

Island hopping once again, enjoying a hike. The beauty is overwhelming, especially at the enchanted lake and the sandbar in Manlawi! The lighthouse resembles Batanes – thank you, God! It's a mix of emotions, a bit sad with separation anxiety, but when you're truly enjoying, time flies. We had lunch on a sandbar, a bit nerve-wracking because of the sudden heavy rain. We had to seek shelter, and you could clearly see the rain over the sea, the waves, the rain-free part, the clouds carrying the rain. Then, all of a sudden, after about 30 minutes, the sea and the sky calmed down. I was amazed! The moment before the rain stopped felt like a scene from "Cast Away," and when it did, it was as serene as Moana after crossing a big wave. Incredibly calm.

Day 3.

Feeling sentimental. Haha. We left early because it's going to be a long journey again. Leaving with a lot of stories. Experiences. Memories. Keepsakes. Souvenirs. While on the trip, you'll realize that time flies when you're having fun, so you need to treasure and enjoy every moment while you're there.

#experience #quotes #for keeps #travel #the philippines #caramoanisland #life lessons #good old days

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wizardsjournal · 4 months

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Humour has been a crucial part of human culture from the beginning of time. From the earliest tape-recorded human history to today, laughter and amusement have substantially affected our lives. The advancement of humour is a fascinating journey that reveals how jokes and comical designs have traversed through different eras. In ancient Greece, funny took the shape of slapstick, which used physical humour to entertain audiences. Slapstick relied on over-the-top motions and gestures to develop hilarity, and its universality made it a hit throughout cultures and language barriers. With the advancement of societies, humour has been established to include satire. Satirists who employ irony, sarcasm, and cleverness utilize these strategies to mock social conventions, political leaders, and cultural happenings. Satire is a powerful instrument for exposing hypocrisy and questioning those in power. 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Funny circumstances, including animals and people, were typically represented through hieroglyphics on tomb walls. These visual puns served the double function of home entertainment and supplied insight into the lives and relationships of the people of ancient Egypt. The ancient Greek civilization, renowned for its pursuit of knowledge, likewise had a lively heritage of fun. Dramatists like Aristophanes used humour to inspect political leaders, social standards, and even divine beings. Through satirical productions like "The Clouds" and "Lysistrata," they cleverly buffooned the impracticalities of their age, utilizing clever language and physical fun to captivate and amuse their viewers. In ancient Rome, humour often took the type of political satire and mockery. Political cartoons, similar to those seen in modern-day papers, were popular. These animations portrayed politicians in overstated and comical situations, enabling individuals to mock and criticize those in power without fear of retribution. Middle Ages Mirth: Unveiling the Jokes of the Middle Ages Medieval Mirth: Unveiling the Jokes of the Middle Ages Humour has been an essential part of human culture, offering a means to manage the difficulties and complexities of life. The Middle Ages, often seen as a duration of darkness and austerity, likewise had their fair share of jesters and comical tales. These jokes, though significantly different from contemporary humour, shed light on that time's social, cultural, and intellectual worth. In the Middle Ages, jesters and clowns were vital in entertaining regular people and the upper class. They were talented in carrying out physical fun, narrating stories, and even singing funny tunes. Throughout this time, a lot of the humour concentrated on social rankings, political leaders, and clever wordplay. Jokes were frequently employed to question those in power and to bring together the commoners and the ruling class. Throughout the Middle Ages, easygoing stories and jests were all the rage in literature. A prime illustration of this is Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales," a collection of myths renowned for its satire and creative humour. Chaucer's stories satirized various occupations and social hierarchies, using a glance into the lives of medieval folk, who were obviously fond of spoken wit and appealing narratives. Additionally, riddles and word puzzles were often employed as medieval entertainment. These mental exercises evaluated individuals' cleverness and linguistic capabilities, all while offering satisfaction. These diversions were typically discovered within composed works and were particularly favoured among experienced people and scholars. Beyond Knock-Knock: Humor in the Digital Age Humour has been a fundamental part of human interaction, discovering its method in every society throughout history. As innovation advances, the method we use to share jokes has progressed substantially. The digital age has produced an abundant playground for humour, providing unlimited possibilities for developing and spreading laughter in new and exciting ways. One of the most noteworthy modifications in humour is the increase in web memes. These bite-sized visual jokes, frequently accompanied by creative captions or recommendations, have overtaken the online world. From the renowned "Distracted Boyfriend" to the common "This is great" dog, memes have become a universal language of humour throughout social media platforms. They depend on shared experiences and recommendations, permitting anybody to take part in the joke and producing a sense of belonging in online communities. In the digital era, abundant viral videos contribute to the humour landscape. Thanks to the ubiquity of smartphones and social network platforms, capturing and disseminating entertaining moments has always been challenging. Whether it's a comical incident or a thoroughly performed prank, these videos can generate laughter from countless people worldwide. They frequently go viral, quickly circulating through social media networks and ending up being immediate feelings, highlighting the impact of technology in amplifying humour. The extensive use of social network platforms, particularly Twitter, has significantly altered how jokes are shared and enjoyed. The concise nature of tweets and their rapid-fire pace have made them a perfect lorry for stylish, amusing observations. Both distinguished comedians and daily individuals have accepted this format, creating viral jokes that can spread out quickly across the internet. The democratization of humour through social networks has made it possible for anybody to become a comedian, effortlessly sharing their amusing thoughts with an international audience.

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bitch-butter · 4 months

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Top 5 Bravo properties

1. Vanderpump Rules

the crown jewel, the gem, the greatest love of all. this show has raised me and molded me and even when I have hated it I've loved it and it can go on for 1,000 seasons and I'll be there every fucking time. the characters are all Deplorable and funny at the same time, allegiances shift, the drinks look horrific and the food makes people vom on their hands and knees in the middle of the restaurant (allegedly). I can watch it every single day and never get tired of the way these people are monsters to each other and betray each other and all give each other Jax's herpes (ALLEGEDLY) and Still continue to claim they are all Best Friends lol these are the best days of our lives

2. The Real Housewives of New Jersey

this is maybe the one Housewives franchise I can Reasonably argue has never had a bad season. it is Consistently dramatic, hilarious, and darksided starting with Danielle Staub, spiralling down into the neverending and honestly very sad feud between Teresa and Melissa and subsequently her brother Joe, the Manzo's mob family literally being torn apart, Teresa having to go to Federal Prison, "I just can't help myself" *pulls Marge's hair from her head*, and WHATEVER is happening with Kim D. it has Very seldom disappointed me, but it should still be considered A Treat and not rewatched Too much lol

3. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

real ones will remember this was at one point in time the darkest show on TV. we had Kim Richards issues with addiction, Taylor Armstrong's husband abusing her and then sueying, Lisa Vanderpump undergoing a Talented Mr. Ripley situation with her young "houseguest", and ultimately Kyle and Kim's relationship being horrifically tested by Kyle's loyalties to other people and Kim's warped sense of what a sister should be providing for her. pepper in the fact that Camille acted like a terrorist with no consequences and then had her husband leave her in a really public embarrassing way and it's like...it only gets better because then we get Dorit at the end of it all lol. this franchise has had True duds for sesaons but again I have been consistenlty intrigued by its darkness so much so that I tune in every fucking time.

4. The Real Housewives of New York

this franchise is Just camp. it feels weird to say it rarely gets heavy because LuAnn literally got arrested for assaulting an officer of the law, and Bethenny's demonic ex jason used to torture her dog Cookiedabooboo, and i have PTSD from like three separate freindship ending fights on this show, but Ugh. it's so funny lol that's the thing with all these shows, and why i feel Bravo is so Fundamentally misunderstood, because these are deeply sad shows but the women themselves are so funny and resilient and ready to laugh at themselves and their circumstances that people that treat these women like broke jokes are idiots imho.

5. Summer House

it's basically Spongebob in comparison to all this darkness, but it is perennially my fav show on the network because these are people that are kind of my age having dramas that are So relatable while also living together on the weekend and generally acting like Actual friends. special attention must be paid to the COVID season where they literally were all locked in the house together for Months and Lindsay confronted her boyfriend and accused him of never making her sandwiches, and they had that awful anniversary out back by the pool with sad takeout, and amanda and kyle were Not toxic for a season and made me believe in love, and Luke and Carl almost got into a fistfight!!! i love Summer House lol true nonsense.

Honorable Mentions: Shahs of Sunset, Gallery Girls, Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List (!!!!! that show made me who i am today but now you can't find it anywhere)

#in this house we respect one andrew cohen even if he is a morally bankrupt sock puppet of a man #lol remember when bethenny was going to unionize bravo #go back to eating embarassing food on tiktok you hasbeen #don't get me STARTED on bethenny frankel

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thesereveries · 10 months

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A love letter to writing

I mentioned in my previous philosophy post this important question: How can we better regulate emotion? Changing the trajectory that a bare affect takes, in its development into a particular emotion over another, is not just a matter of changing how you feel inside. What's at stake is how you "sculpt" manifest reality (i.e., which particular objects and situations, rather than others, show up as part of the reality you see around you).

In this post, I'd like to explore the role that writing can have in sculpting manifest reality, as well as confess up to how much I love writing. Writing is a basic capability made possible by the human condition—just as having a body is made possible by our condition, so that we can pick things up, move things around, and touch one another. I love how writing, this capability, is given to us just by being human, and I love what it brings to our lives.

(As a side-note: When people use ChatGPT, as a short-cut replacing writing for themselves, we may wonder whether this is good or bad. This question is part of the motivation behind this post. I want to think through exactly what is lost from one's life, when one offloads the task of writing to somebody else or an AI.)

I feel most alive when I write. Ideas spill forth from my fingertips. It is magic. It is creation, discovery, and intimacy, all at once. (The only other activity that rivals writing, for me, is being together with people I love. There, the same kind of creation, discovery, and intimacy happens, a thought I'll return to below). What explains this magic of writing, and does its effects linger beyond the moments in which writing happens, or enter manifest reality for the long-term?

I had a realization back as an undergraduate. At the time, I was on medical leave. I was rediscovering my relationship to the world via doing philosophy and writing, day by day. The realization begins with the fact that the possible ways we may move, at this present moment, are governed by the general circumstances we face at this moment. We are determined by our circumstances. This is no shocker. The responsibilities and tasks that call for our attention, the threats and uncertainties that tense our bodies for preparation, etc.—all of this places constraints on what we will see, think, feel, and do.

But in turn, we can determine these circumstances, by exerting our will or agency. Thoughts and imaginings, which we create, can occupy the role of external circumstances. By choosing our thoughts and imaginings, we in effect choose the directions into which our possibilities are constrained.

My realization was that writing is perhaps the most profound way we can fully determine our possibilities of being. When you are immersed in writing, your attention is overtaken by all the objects, situations, and ideas that you are writing about. These things you write about serve the role of external circumstances, directing what you think, feel, and do next. When you are determined by what you are writing about, this amounts to directing what you write next. That next moment of writing, in turn, provides new objects, situations, and ideas. These serve as further circumstances, determining the possibilities of your being, or directing you into certain paths of thought, feeling, and action.

And so the feedback loop, this dynamical cycling between the world and the self, goes on. Only when you write, the world that comes into being is totally created by you. This contrasts all other moments of being alive, where you face circumstances that were not made by you, and these circumstances direct you "from the outside." You don't write forth the presence of the sky, or its blue color; or, your hunger or childhood. But while writing, you create everything that is "external" to you and directing your being.

This also differs from reading, watching videos, or engaging in any other "virtual" realm. When we do these, we don't create that which is unfolding before our eyes. The external circumstances, here, that direct us are "from the outside," just as the physical world is. The difference between the natural world and these virtual or artistic realms is that the latter are created by other people. If artwork, these realms are made with incredible care and purposiveness. This gives our engagement with artwork a role that's as profound as that of writing ourselves, although it is different. (I'll examine our engagement with artwork in a future post.)

Also writing differs from painting, or making art of some non-linguistic medium. Writing is nevertheless closely related to these, if not even continuous regarding certain aspects. I like to paint in my free time. When I paint, the visual form flowing from my hand serves as my external circumstances, which is determining my possibilities. But here, I don't stand within a linguistic mode. Rather, I am full of feeling and curiosity, which is not about anything in particular. That which is determining me, when I paint, is more sensory- or feeling-based, like biting into a ripe peach and feeling the sweetness suffuse. Or watching sunlight dapple through tree leaves and skip across your skin. These sensations fill us with feeling, but are not about anything else, out there in the world.

The power of language use, as in writing, is that it can deliver particular objects, situations, and ideas, from out there in the world. Language is like a microscope, telescope, or periscope. It brings us into contact with otherwise spatially or temporally distant parts of the world, or abstract parts that usually cannot be felt. When standing within a linguistic mode, our desires peek up and turn towards such parts of the world. The external circumstance that determine our possibilities, when we are writing, consist in such meaningful parts of the world—rather than in bare sensations, as when we are painting, dancing, or making music.

This power of writing, I've just described, may suggest something disturbing. That you create the world that "creates" or determines you, in turn—this may bring to mind the image of a snake eating its own tail. It stirs up ideas of insularity, self-absorption, or even solipsism. But these ideas do not, in fact, follow. In writing, we are suspended up and away from the reality surrounding us. Our attention is freed up. We have the space and clarity to access a wider array of ideas, desires, and perspectives, in the realm of writing. When we are constantly hit by the responsibilities and demands of daily life, we simply don't have the bandwidth to notice, let alone choose, perspectives that are far away from the present ones, consuming us.

So in writing, we have the freedom to notice and adopt perspectives that differ from our own. Your consciousness is like a medium, into which different perspectives, of all the people and ideas you've encountered in your life, can wander. So when you write, and create the circumstances that in turn create your being, this is not an insular feedback loop. Other people's voices and ideas enter your bloodstream, and are partly responsible for which circumstances you create.

This metaphor of other people's voices swirling in your head is limited, however. It's not that there's literally another person, whose perspective becomes yours, when you write. Rather, a very complex combination arises from the treasure trove of your past encounters with other people. Stored in your consciousness are everything from outlines of perspectives, fleshed-out ideas from particular perspectives, random ideas you've barely understood, and important ideas that you've developed cherished. There are many varieties of things that relate to "the perspectives of others" that are found in your consciousness. When you write, these all collide and combine. Moreover, your own will or agency is always the medium, or to use another metaphor, the glass of the window, through which any of these components of perspectives are viewed. Your agency is not just one element among others that combine; it resides at a higher level, like the glass of the window, which "colors" all the things that are viewed through the glass.

So in writing, you have the most freedom to access diverse perspectives. You can let these in, to inform what you care about. A dissolved, expanded, or impersonal "self" arises from your being, when you write.

It is curious to note the difference between talking to ourselves, in thought or speech, on the one hand, and writing, on the other hand. Thought is limp. When I think about ideas, it's all a haze, as in contrast to when I write about these same ideas. Take an analogy: when you look at a landscape through your memory, this is far more limited than if you stepped into the landscape. Only when you're really there can you run through its grass and play with its insects and wildflowers. Thought, without writing, is like memory. Writing is like actually being there.

Why is thought so impoverished? Writing involves individual words, that can be arranged into extensive and exquisite buildings, via syntactical structure. Thought does not afford such creation; it is amorphous and murky. Writing, moreover, leaves its trail on the page. You can see where each turn of an idea occurred, and how these turns all relate to one another. You attain a razor-sharp, bird's eye view, of all details of an idea at hand. Thought is not like this. Ideas are constantly lost and emptied out, when we're thinking, because memory can only hold so many items at a time, and there's no external reinforcements to supplement memory.

This is not to say, however, that there's no proper place for thought. At early stages in exploring an idea, it is good to restrain the idea to the realm of thought. Committing to words too early can take you down paths that turn out to be misguided, and it is difficult to backtrack. It is difficult to forget what you've experienced, and regain a budding idea, its pure form, full of untarnished potential.

What about when we speak to ourselves, using words and syntactical structure? Does this possess the power of writing? It doesn't in my experience, although this might not be universal. When I speak to myself in words, ideas fade out of memory, just as they do in thought. So I cannot keep in sight the full idea, the lay of the land, when I speak to myself. Moreover—and perhaps more profoundly and puzzlingly—when I speak to myself, I do not find myself in a state of intimacy, as I do when I write. This intimacy that pervades me, when I write, is similar to the intimacy of being with a friend or lover.

Here, I'm at the limits of my understanding. I don't know why this intimacy is built into the writing experience. A guess is that, to draw on an earlier idea, when I write, the voice that takes hold of me is not exactly my own, if I define "my own voice" in terms of who I feel myself to be when I go about daily life. A different self emerges in writing, one which is dissolved, expanded, and impersonal. Maybe I feel this interpersonal intimacy when writing because I am "seen" by these perspectives of people other than myself, whose voices entwine and emerge forth, under the guise of my agency. This is the oceanic "oneness with the other," whenever I write, and am both seen and created by all of these people.

Finally, I'd like to return to the connection between writing and sculpting manifest reality (which amounts to regulating emotion.) Roughly put, there are two kinds of writing: we can write with the aim of representing and exploring reality ("nonfiction"), or we can write to make things up ("fiction" or "make-believe".) Each kind has a distinctive power. Understanding the power of writing fiction requires that I explain topics that are unrelated to writing itself, namely the relationship between make-believe and consciousness. So I'll save this discussion for a future post. It'll turn out that making things up can transform our manifest reality in ways that speaking or writing sincerely cannot. Being in pretense can be more powerful than being realistic, when it comes to re-sculpting the reality we see, as counterintuitive as that sounds.

For now, let's look at the power of writing earnestly. When we write about reality, this puts us in touch with the parts of reality that we're writing about. Our bodily affect and emotion can be triggered by those parts of reality, as opposed to the parts of daily life that have preoccupied us, prior to writing. For example, I worry over whether I've exercised enough this week, when I missed my usual jog. I tell myself, in inner thought, that this is irrational; I can return to my routine next week, and this deviation will make no difference in the long run. But the fearful affect remains sticky, distracting me from my projects. So I turn away from merely thinking. I go to my laptop and begin to write. In writing, I make pristine the reasons why I feel upset. I show to myself why these reasons are ill-founded, and I raise the facts that imply that all is well. The act of writing changes my affect and emotion, and thus re-sculpts my manifest reality. Previously, the reality I saw contained that something has gone wrong. Now, this reality is freed of that, and undisturbed, I may now go forth and pursue my projects.

Why can writing have this power, where thought cannot? This is explained by ideas mentioned earlier. In writing, we most completely detach ourselves from the world of daily life; and free of the demands of daily life, we can luxuriate in this newfound, open space, and notice more diverse perspectives and ideas. This means that we're more likely to be able to access parts of reality that can undermine the previous reasons for having a certain emotion. We have more resources, in writing rather than in thought, that can let us dismantle previous parts of manifest reality, so we can replace these with more truthful parts.

Moreover, in writing, we have access to a wider array of perspectives or voices. It is more likely that we'll hit upon a voice that is authoritative, that our bodily affect will heed to. In thought, there is just your own voice, and perhaps a few others that are in your immediate vicinity of interest. These few voices may fail to be authoritative; when they speak, your affect is not convinced, and continues running amok. These options afforded by thought are impoverished, compared to those afforded by the act of writing.

What do I mean, when I say that in writing, other people's voices may become your own? How literally do I mean that? As explained earlier, it is not literal: rarely do particular people's perspectives enter our own spontaneously. That happens only if we deliberately aim to emphasize with a particular other, or to write from their perspective. But there is something more subtle that goes on in writing, which is very significant. There are overall "tones" of people's voices, which may enter our voice in writing. Such "tones" may include how much gravity or authority a voice has; or alternatively, how distant or meager it sounds. This fact is connected to that not all attempts at regulating our emotions, by reasoning with ourselves, will succeed. Whether it does can largely hinge upon whether we have been close with people who regard us highly, or who love us, and whether we trust these people, or take them as having gravity or authority. It is the voices of people who've been integral in our lives that most readily become our own, when we write. It they were abusive or untrustworthy, it is difficult to be able to change our manifest reality in ways that align with our values, even when we write. But this issue takes us to philosophical issues that goes beyond the scope here. I will explore this some other time.

To sum up:

We can create the external circumstances, which in turn, create our possible thoughts, feelings, and actions, when we write.

Writing gives us powerful distance from daily life, so that we are freed to access a wider range of interests, ideas, and perspectives.

Writing has syntactical structure and conceptual possibilities, which surpass those of thought. Writing overcomes the limitations of memory, under which thought is subjected.

Lingering questions:

What does writing fiction or make-believe do to us, as opposed to writing in earnest?

What happens to us, when we read someone else's work (or engage with other artistic media), as opposed to when we write for ourselves?

What are these "voices" that we open ourselves to, when we write? Where do they come from, and what power do they have over our manifest reality?

Literature that inspired these ideas:

Alderson-Day, Ben, and Charles Fernyhough. “Inner Speech: Development, Cognitive Functions, Phenomenology, and Neurobiology.” Psychological Bulletin 141, no. 5 (September 2015): 931–65. https://doi.org/10.1037/bul0000021.

Clark, Andy. “Language, Embodiment, and the Cognitive Niche.” Trends in Cognitive Sciences 10, no. 8 (August 2006): 370–74. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tics.2006.06.012.

———. “Word, Niche and Super-Niche: How Language Makes Minds Matter More.” THEORIA. Revista de Teoría, Historia y Fundamentos de La Ciencia 20, no. 3 (2005): 255–68.

Fernyhough, Charles. Vygotsky, Luria, and the Social Brain. Oxford University Press, 2010. http://www.oxfordscholarship.com/view/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195327694.001.0001/acprof-9780195327694-chapter-3.

Garfield, Jay L. Engaging Buddhism: Why It Matters to Philosophy. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press, 2015.

O’Madagain, Cathal, and Michael Tomasello. “Joint Attention to Mental Content and the Social Origin of Reasoning.” Synthese 198, no. 5 (May 2021): 4057–78. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11229-019-02327-1.

Thompson, Evan. Mind in Life: Biology, Phenomenology, and the Sciences of Mind. Cambridge, Mass: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2007.

Tomasello, Michael, and Hannes Rakoczy. “What Makes Human Cognition Unique? From Individual to Shared to Collective Intentionality.” Mind and Language 18, no. 2 (April 2003): 121–47. https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-0017.00217.

#philosophy #psychology #on writing

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