#burning this into my brain a million gazillion times | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

accio-ambition · 6 years

Text

No Good Deed (4/15)

Summary: Killian Jones is a gentleman. He and his brother pride themselves on the matter, even if it ends with harm to them. So when an angry ex of Killian’s client bites him, he tends to the wound, watches it heal, and thinks no more of it.Until he wakes up in a closet on his ship with no memory of what happened the night of the full moon. Fleeing from the unknown, the brothers Jones find Storybrooke, and with it, Emma Swan, who is a lot more familiar with their situation than anyone could expect. And when an old foe comes to their new home, Killian has to rely on new talents to keep those he loves safe. Rating: M for language, violence, some sexual content. (better safe than sorry) Content warnings: violence

pssst. PSSST. imma let you in on a secret. that person you've been wondering about? the one where you're like, "i know they're going to show up, where are they, cmon, hurry up?" they're here in this chapter ;) but SHHHH. as always, thanks a billion million gazillion to Taylor (@killiarious) and Tragic (@wellhellotragic) for all of the work that they've put into this. i feel like i haven't appreciated you guys enough because I know i haven't, and I'm trying to think of ways to repay that don't involve selling my soul. and another gajillion thanks to the mods at @captainswanbigbang for all the hard work and blood and sweat and tears they sunk into organizing this.

Ayo, you know the AO3 drill

Chapter Four

It’s rough, finding a new place outside of a city so populated. Killian’s left mostly to himself to look at places with Liam pulling more shifts at the station. At first, they look at Brooklyn and other places nearby, somewhere, in theory, Liam could keep his position and commute. He even goes so far as to look at some apartments. But they’re too expensive and populated. Together, they decide to look elsewhere.

A lot of elsewheres.

It takes a couple tries - Boston’s still too populated, Savannah too hot, among a slew of other towns of varying sizes - before they finally head as far north as they can.

“Canada’s got lots of forests, right?” Killian asks, staring at a map of the eastern seaboard from the passenger’s seat. After Liam’s last pay-for-muscle job, they hopped in the car and started driving. “We could take a pit stop at Niagara.”

“We’d have to change citizenship,” Liam says practically, focused on switching lanes on the highway. He sighs as he looks forward. “Maybe we just drive up to Maine and call it quits when we stop for gas.”

Killian laughs. “Who are you? That’s far too spontaneous for my brother’s brain.”

Liam shrugs. “What can I say? Life on the move has spurned a wee bit of something in me.”

Settling into the seat, Killian folds up the map as best he can and takes to staring out the window. He watches other cars, trees and guardrails, the occasional billboard pass by. His transformation is coming soon - he can feel an inkling of it in his bones - and they’ve got to find somewhere he can run free without hurting anyone, especially his brother.

He briefly falls asleep and wakes up as Liam pulls into a gas station. The sun is setting over the treetops. When he looks around, Killian notices there’s not much else around. A stoplight a little further down the road, some quaint little houses and shops.

“Where are we?” he asks, voice groggy.

“Storybrooke, Maine,” Liam answers. “Welcome to our new home.”

They’ve found something of a gem in Storybrooke. A small town, for sure, but large enough to spawn something of a suburb and boast two completely different grocery stores. But that’s not the charm that solidifies Storybrooke as their new homebase.

Since both of them have worked with, in, and around water and the sea, it’s a bit of an unspoken agreement between brothers that they have to move somewhere with a harbor. It’s a remnant of their childhoods, what’s left of the memory of their father that left them and their mother in the lurch. Every Sunday, their mother would take them down to the docks and walk along them along the water. Killian couldn’t be sure, but he liked to think that she found a connection with her former husband in the horizon on the other side of the water. It’s a feeling that runs stronger in Killian’s veins than Liam’s, probably due to the fact that Killian was younger and more naive, unknowing of the pain and uncomfortableness that their father left behind as Liam did. Still, there’s a certain solace the sea provides the brothers Jones, tainted memories included. How would one know what happiness is were it not for the sadness that came before it?

Killian finds a new job as the harbormaster, in charge of all the comings and goings of ships and boats. It brings him a certain sense of peace, something he could never really find even when he sailed the ferry across the Hudson River.

Much to Killian’s pleasure, Liam seems to settle in better than he does, if possible. Of all the odd jobs he’s worked in his life, the ad in the newspaper for a sheriff’s deputy - no experience required, training paid for - is the perfect fit. He’s already bossy, a leader, and a natural rule upholder.

“Finally,” Killian exhales, his forehead all but slamming on the kitchen table in front of him. “Now others will see the tribulations of living under your dictatorship.”

Rolling his head from side to side, the closest movement to shaking his head in this position, a thought crosses his mind and causes him to groan. He sits up. “You’re going to be an even more pompous arse with that blasted uniform on, aren’t you?”

They live in what either of them can only describe as a hovel, but it’s a hovel of their own, in their names alone. There’s enough grass around them that they could consider it a yard, especially the first spring they live there, when a surprise crop of buttercups pop up from the earth. Out toward the outskirts of town, it’s got enough rooms to be considered spacious and for each of them to have their own personal space.

Privacy is a very important quality to have when two brothers live together, especially as Liam settles further into his place in town. The inclusion of Elsa in their lives is messy at first. She’s a lovely lass - a bit on the quiet side, but Liam looks at her like she hangs the sun, moon, and stars all at once. And she, in turn, provides his brother a confidante other than Killian himself. Elsa brings out a softer side of Liam, one that Killian hasn’t seen since they were children. Probably not since their mother died and his brother added “guardian” to his resume.

They meet after a rather unfortunate incident: Liam’s covering the night shift while Killian, still a little unsettled from his last transformation, pays a visit to the local bar. He takes notices of the gaggle of ladies in the corner of the bar, sitting around the table and gabbing. As the night rolls on, they get a little too rowdy. When one of them ends up dancing on the table, Killian sees the bartender shake his head and reach for the phone.

A few minutes later, Liam struts in. He nods at Killian when their eyes meet and Killian can’t help but chuckle at the slight relief he spots in his brother’s expression when he realizes his younger brother isn’t the reason he’s been called. Still, he goes up to the man behind the bar and, after a brief discussion, Liam heads over to the table of women. The woman who stands up to deal with his sheriff brother has platinum hair, plaited down over her shoulder. Her hands come up, her motions soft and calming as she separates her friends from Liam.

He can’t hear what the conversation is, but the women settle down and Liam can’t seem to stop smiling. The woman says something to her friends before walking to the bar with his brother. Liam calls over the bartender and a moment later, his brother and Elsa are indulging in their first drink.

The rest, they say, is history.

Killian’s never really a desire for another older sibling, let alone a sister, but Elsa makes him rethink the idea. She adds a domesticity there’s never really been in the Jones residence, but she’s got a quick tongue that surprises everyone, including her adversaries in the courtroom.

Elsa introduces both of them to Storybrooke society, mostly by introducing them to her social butterfly of a sister, Anna. She somehow calms them both down in heated situations, especially between each other, and she does it all without ever raising her voice.

She’s the best thing to happen in their lives - or at least the best for them since Killian aged out of the system.

Unfortunately, they still have to keep Killian’s secret from her. For own safety, Liam insists.

“Liam, she’s practically family now,” Killian argues in whispers. It’s a Thursday evening and Elsa’s come over for dinner. She’s in the bathroom at the moment and Killian’s worried. “She has the right to know, especially when the new moon strikes within a week.”

“She doesn’t need to know, little brother,” Liam fights vehemently. “I’ll stay over at her place, that way we’ll both be out of your way.”

The conversation is cut short due to Elsa’s return, but Killian can’t help rolling his eyes.

“Oh no,” she says quietly, placing her napkin in her lap. “What did I interrupt? I can go in the kitchen and find look at your alcohol collection until you guys sort this out.”

Taking her hand, Liam shushes her with a smile. “No, honey, that’s alright. My little brother just doesn’t understand why I want to spend some time at your place.”

Killian, really having no other choice, plays along. “I don’t understand why because you always come back complaining that Anna wakes you up at ungodly hours.” Looking down at his mostly empty plate, Killian grumbles, “Trust me, I enjoy the reprieve from nightly activity noises.”

Liam scolds him for his inappropriate comment while Elsa hides her giggles behind her napkin.

(She’s truly the best thing to happen to them in a long while.)

0000

With each passing lunar cycle, the pain lessens. It still burns as it takes over his body, but just as with any sort of exercise, the body grows more tolerant. Liam remains the only person to know of his affliction, a fact that Killian fights the closer Liam and Elsa get. His brother finds more and more unusual ways to keep his lady love and himself away from the Jones house during full moons.

When the weather is nice enough, Killian often excuses himself by saying he’s going camping. Elsa doesn’t blink an eye, and if anyone finds him in the woods in any state of dress, he can say he just had a hard night in the forest.

(The ripping of clothes is still a problem when he transforms. A couple months into this experience, one would believe he’d be better at it.)

Killian’s wolf self loves those weekends. No one has run into him in any form, and the variety of creatures running about in the woods pleases him to no end. While he loved every day of living in New York with his brother, Storybrooke has a magical quality about it. Perhaps it’s the forests or the appearance of Elsa in their lives. It could be the accomplishment of adulthood or the freedom this little town gives them. Any number of things might be the reason. Killian fears that pinpointing the exact reason would ruin the magic.

It’s funny how just one small moment can change one’s perception of magical places. Wolf or not, it hits Killian right between the eyes one day.

“Liam!” Killian shouts, the front door to the station slamming shut behind him. Things are quiet down at the docks, fog failing to dissipate as morning turned to afternoon and making sailing conditions too undesirable. He’s got his pile of paperwork down to a manageable level and with the weather as poor as it is, Killian figures that most people are too fatigued by the grey day to commit any sort of crime. So, as he’s prone to do on occasion, he comes to offer Liam an outing for lunch.

When no one responds immediately, Killian walks further into the precinct. He expects to see Ruby or Leroy, the receptionist and other deputy respectively, but both their desks are alarmingly empty. Walking past them, he heads to Liam’s desk, and once he finds it unattended as well, Killian makes his way to the head sheriff’s office. It’s boxed off with half glass walls from the rest of the station, giving the semblance of privacy where there is usually none. Graham, however, installed blinds shortly after his appointment many years ago, and pulls them when he convenes a department meeting, as they are now.

Since his brother’s appointment to deputy, Killian’s skillfully infiltrated Storybrooke’s sheriff department, befriending Graham over a pint and Ruby with a drunk karaoke night or four. He’s walked in on many a department meeting and sat in the back, offering witticisms and snarky remarks when called for. Or even when they’re not.

(Leroy, as loud as he is, has still managed to vex him. The man is always grumpy.)

So he knocks on the glass door of the small room, giving them warning of his entrance, and waltzes in.

“Good morning, esteemed law enforcement of Storybrooke.” His greeting is too loud in the room, a boom of thunder during an otherwise silent night. Observing his surroundings, Killian becomes confused. Liam’s not standing beside the door. Leroy’s not sitting in the trouble seat with Ruby perched on the arm, checking out her nails. And, the most surprising thing he notices, is that Graham isn’t standing behind his desk, hands resting on the top of the wood and shoulders hunched over the week’s docket.

Instead, all four of them are sitting in front of the desk, chairs dragged in from other places in the building. The looks on their faces express concern and something like guilt, though Killian can’t explain why.

And then he looks to where Graham should be standing to discover his place is taken by a blonde woman, with leather-clad arms crossed over her chest.

She’s a marvel: that’s the first real thought that crosses his mind about her. Her stance radiates power, demands respect, and serves as one of the most powerful turn-ons Killian’s ever had the pleasure of being exposed to.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice gruff and unimpressed.

At the sound, his eyes shoot up, catching a flick of green as her eyes roll back in her head. Thrown for a moment, Killian shakes his head.

He soon recovers and turns on his swaggery pirate persona, “Well, that depends,” he replies. He gestures to Graham, and then back to her. “How come you’re in Graham’s place?”

There’s a moan from beside him, one Killian recognises as his brother’s. He turns briefly to catch Liam rest his forehead on his hand in disgrace. Killian shrugs. “What? I believe it to be a fair question.”

The blonde shakes her head. “This is a private meeting of sheriff department personnel,” she says. The satisfying clunk of her boots are slow and measured as she comes around the desk, stopping right in front of him. “If you’d please wait outside, someone will be out to help you in a moment.”

She grimaces at him, her poor attempt at a polite smile, then she takes the door frame from his lacking hold. “Thank you.”

Dumbstruck by the turn of events, Killian has no choice but to glance at his brother as he slowly backs out into the bullpen. Liam raises an eyebrow, nonverbally asking him to follow orders, just this once, and they’ll discuss the rest of the matters later.

Conceding defeated, Killian nods his head. "My mistake," he says, much more humbled.

"I apologize for interrupting."

The woman nods as if to say, "Yeah, sure, fine" before shutting the door behind him. Still a little gobsmacked by the unusual turn of events, Killian makes his way back to Liam's desk and takes a seat. He stares aimlessly at the framed photograph on his brother's desk, an identical match to the one that sits on his own desk down in the harbor. It's from when they were younger, one of the first weekends after Liam officially became his guardian. For some reason, he had saved up a ton of money - picking up extra shifts when he could, sleeping minimally for days at a time, and living off of Ramen and boxed macaroni - all so they could go out on a cheap little rented sailboat on a nice Saturday.

The man who owned the boat offered to take a picture of the two of them once they returned from the water. Sunburnt, a bit dehydrated, and smiling wider than either of them could contemplate possible, that was one of the happiest days of Killian's life. Everything finally seemed to be turning up in their favor.

While life or fate had sent he and his brother through the wringer, this turn of events was certainly not one he had seen coming. A new sheriff? It's not as though Graham has done poorly in his position, nor had he suddenly fallen in the line of duty.

But this new arrival is certainly an interesting development.

Staff meetings, or at least the ones he used to be privy to, lasted anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes. A brief greeting, perhaps a jab at Grumpy's expense, then a run down of the assignments for the day, followed by questions, comments, concerns. In and out before your coffee got cold. And while Killian figured, with the change in command and explanation of local quirks, it would go half an hour, maximum. This sheriff seemed to get straight to business, as if she was more excited about filing paperwork than about tackling the town's problems. Killian could sit and play around for a half an hour, no problem. Maybe he'd even take a nap.

But when a half hour passed, and then an hour, and then an hour and a half, Killian finally had enough. There were only so many times he could Facebook stalk his brother's account, or send himself emails from Liam's work account. Only so many Vine compilations and cat videos to be watched. His stomach growling was the last straw. He stood up, completely intending to march right back into Graham's office and call this meeting cruel and unusual punishment when the door he'd been coerced from earlier opened up.

Grumpy appears first, his facial expression much more sour than usual, followed by Graham, who looks like he needed a nap himself. Ruby comes after, her fingers already quickly flickering across her phone in response to texts or tweets or whatever the meeting had caused her to miss. Liam brings up the rear, slogging out with an apologetic look behind him. He’s barely out of the doorway before the glass door slams shut behind him and the shade shimmies down over the window.

"What's got her so uptight?" Killian asks, spinning around in his brother's chair and watching Liam settle in to work.

Liam merely shakes his head. "Get up," he grumbles, "I've got to get to work."

"I thought today was your day to patrol," Killian counters, rising anyways. "I was going to hop in the back and ask for a ride down to my office because I am not walking through that weather again today. Once was more than enough."

Sighing, Liam takes his seat and scoots in, simultaneously logging out of his Facebook and opening up a case file. "I'm not," he replies curtly.

Leaning in, Killian asks, "It's because of her, isn't it?"

"Sheriff Swan's in charge now, so I'm just following her orders."

"So that's the she-devil's name?" Killian ponders aloud, looking at the closed door behind which he knows she's probably so diligently working. Probably cackling over the change in order, cackling over huge piles of paperwork she either can’t wait to do or assign to one of the others. "Swan." To his knowledge, she fits the name: beautiful, mysterious, more than willing to bite at you should you get too close. He sits back against the edge of Liam's desk. "Huh."

"Don't be rude, little brother," Liam chastises. "She's new to town and the only thing she really knows is what she's meant to do as an occupation." He halts his typing long enough to glare at Killian and say, "Exhibit good form, brother. Don't be an arse."

"Don't be an arse," Killian parrots back with a scoff. "Did you tell her that? She scared the shit out of all of you. I've never seen Ruby turn her phone on vibrate and she did for this woman."

"Killian." He turns around to see Ruby, phone in hand, staring at him. "Liam's right. She's just trying to get a feel for what we're all like. You remember how it was when you guys first moved here."

Conceding to that matter, Killian nods slowly. "But neither of us were that rude, were we now, love?"

Ruby sighs. "No," she admits, and in the same breath goes to defend the woman. "But consider it from her shoes: she's replacing the male sheriff in a town in the middle of nowhere. She needs to exert her authority much more than if it were Graham's first day."

"That doesn't give her the right to..." Killian trails off. She is the sheriff, so technically, it does give her the right to kick him out of what should have always been private, sheriff department only conversations. And yet, Killian's riled up now, and he isn't quite ready to admit to being wrong. "What if there was a real emergency?" he asks instead, changing tactics. "She should have at least asked why I was there."

Just as he finishes his question, the woman herself, Swan, pokes her head out from between the door and its jamb. "What’s with the yapping? Is there a problem out here?" she asks before her eyes catch on Killian's. She puts on the same painful fake polite smile on, for his sake he can only assume, and ventures out of her office toward him. "Ah, yes sir, sorry to keep you waiting. How can the sheriff's department help you today?"

“Well, love, I had the hopes of saying hello to my brother and friends here at the station, but I can see that that way of life is no longer approved.” He sticks his hand out for a shake. “Killian Jones, at your service.”

“Jones?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods toward Liam’s desk. “Younger brother to Deputy Liam Jones and occasional department volunteer.”

“Ah,” she hums, and Killian has to hide the slight smile of satisfaction he gets from seeing her face fall. Carefully, she places her hand in his. “Well, I’m sorry for being curt.”

Hoping to rock her world even further, Killian pulls her hand to his lips and press them against her knuckles. He catches a hint of red on her cheeks and hears her small, sharp intake of breath.

Mission accomplished. Even if it earns him a groan from Graham, a cackle from Ruby, and a scolding from his brother.

Swan pulls her hand away from him, brushing it against her thigh. “Mr. Jones, as the sheriff here in Storybrooke now, I’ll have to insist you act professional when you visit the department,” she orders. “Now, I’ve got a lot to catch up on, as do the rest of my coworkers, so I’m asking you politely to leave before things get ugly.”

“That, love, sounds like a promise.” This time, everyone groans at his gall, including Leroy. Holding up his hands, Killian slowly backs away. “I know when I’ve been bested. I’ll see myself out.”

With a solemn nod, Swan heads back into her office. Killian salutes Liam, waves at Graham and Leroy, and winks at Ruby on his way. It’s still soaking with no signs of letting up. He sighs.

“I don’t like her attitude,” Killian mumbles before heading out into the rain. “I don’t like it one bit.”

It turns out to be an absolute lie.

Killian has already prided himself on finding the toughest woman in the bar or the pub, at the party or the event, and wooing her into his bed. Or hers, he really isn't picky. A challenge, he used to say to his friends in New York. He liked a woman who proved to be a challenge.

(It was a rare find. One look and listen to him and almost any woman who had a slight inclination toward him was putty in his hands.)

This time, however, the toughest woman has managed to find him.

Swan proves to be the most difficult nut to crack yet. And, somehow, they fall in to an unlikely friendship nearly immediately. There's something in her that Killian responds to on a subconscious level himself. She snaps at the slightest insult, almost as though she's been fighting for her own way in life as long as he has. The first occasion Granny sends lunch for the whole department via the K. Jones Express, he spots the wild look in her eyes as she nearly pounces on the brown bags. They're all labeled with names, made special for each member of the sheriff's office, but Emma quickly opens and searches each one with the ferocity of a hungry teenager.

When she finally finds hers, she grabs it and takes it back into her office, the door all but slamming shut behind her. Curious, Killian brushes off the thanks Ruby and Graham give him in order to follow Swan cautiously to her home turf.

Gently pushing the door open, Killian peeks in. Swan's sitting at her desk inhaling her food, barely taking enough of a break to swallow and sip at her drink.

"So," he casually says, stepping into the room. She looks like a deer in the headlights, sandwich half-eaten, her mouth stuck open for another bite. "What did our dear Granny send for you today?"

Slowly, Emma places her sandwich back on the foil it was wrapped in and brushes her hands of crumbs. "Grilled cheese and onion rings," she answers.

"What a peculiar combination," Killian muses. He takes a seat in the trouble seat, right across from her. He notices her eyes narrow fractionally as he settles comfortably into the chair.

"Onion rings are better than fries." She says it as though it's a fact.

Killian shrugs. "I wasn't saying anything otherwise, love," he says. "It's just not a combination one sees very often."

Picking up her sandwich and taking another healthy bite, Emma chews in order to stall their conversation. Killian just waits, stares at her. He's never been one to find himself uncomfortable with silence, but this is certainly one of the least uncomfortable situations he's found himself in in recent memory. As he sits there, he notices the way Swan's hair curls slightly and falls from behind her ear, or the freckles that sprinkle her nose and cheeks. They haven't known each other for too long, but Killian finds it a little bit funny that he just now notices them.

Swallowing, Swan sends him a grimace, one he takes willingly. It's not as pained as it was when they first made acquaintance and with each passing meeting, it seems to get a little more genuine. Or at least it's heading in that direction.

"Not that I have to explain anything to you," she says, an attempt at being menacing, "but it's my favorite. It's comforting."

Killian nods in understanding. He claps his hands together, making her jump and causing a small grin to cross his lips. "Well, I'm glad the cold, hard sheriff does have a warm spot in her heart," he teases.

Emma sneers at him and rolls her eyes. "Har har," she says. Shooing him away, she adds, "Get out. I have work to do."

"I'm sure you do. That must be the reason you are swallowing Granny's delicious food whole and not because you're used to fighting for food." Killian winks at her. "You're obviously very devoted to your position and want to get back to your responsibilities as swiftly as possible, aye?"

He watches as she gulps a little bit harder at his words, and he knows with satisfaction that he's hit the nail on the head. Her head slowly nods up and down. Killian sends her a wink.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs. With a tilt of his head, he bows out of the room.

"Until next time, dear Swan."

50 notes · View notes

dubsdeedubs · 6 years

Text

taken for turns

[Previous parts]

[AO3]

(this makes some sense without that context, but it’s good to have. The ending of this is confusing enough.)

[A/N: Here’s a little something that needs a bit of context, since it’s been roughly a year and a half since I’ve last touched it. It’s a weird thing of identity issues, general creepiness, and a lot of self-indulgent ruminating on parallels between Bill and Stan that I started right after the finale came out. There’s some elements of the Same Coin theory about it, but it’s also very much not that. It has gone through several revisions and rethinks over the years, and I know what I want to do with it now. My version of a happy ending might not be everyone’s, but this is heading somewhere around there.

Here’s the general gist of things:

Stan doesn’t get his memories back as easily as in canon, but he’s picking up the pieces anyways. Not all of them are the right pieces.

Thanks for dropping by, and I hope you enjoy the ride.]

So this is the thing: Stan's been having dreams.

That's already a bad start, all things considered. His brother has a gazillion and one horror stories to tell with that exact beginning, which Stan knows because he had been the unlucky bastard to sit through each new edition of Stanford Pines' Scary Dimension-Traveling Stories to Tell in the Dark, hot off the presses. About a month's worth of them now, updated whenever he and Ford sat on the deck of their boat watching the bright stars that hung above the wine-dark waves of the Pacific Ocean. With the warm end-of-summer winds and the clear skies, that was becoming more and more often.

(He'd never admit it, but he likes it a lot. Just him and Ford and a dozen stories about Ford's encounters with horrifying, grotesque abominations of creation in the wide multiverse. He doesn't remember enough to say for sure, but he thinks it has been a long, long time since Ford trusted him enough to let his guards down entirely for him, like this. It makes him happy, in a way that makes some forgotten part of him crave.)

Anyways, the point is: Stan knows that Ford would have a heart attack just at the thought of it.

Actually, no. He'd lock himself in his room for a day or two, coming out only to stare at Stan with big ol' guilty eyes, like he had gotten him some terminal flesh parasite disease or something. And then one day Stan would tell him to just cut it out because look, you really can't avoid someone when you're the only two people on a boat, so how 'bout you sit your ass down and tell me again about the nth time you didn't get with an alien babe?

And then Ford would have a heart attack.

So yeah, that's the reason why he hasn't said anything so far. Part of it, if he had to be honest.

Because, well. The other thing was, he actually kind of likes those dreams.

That sounds bad. He knows it does, which is why he tries not to think about that too often. Doesn't even dare to bring it up with Ford, because he thinks his brother might just combust.

Really, it's just peaceful. In his dreams, he's in a forest, just like the ones in the Pacific Northwest, the ones that surround Gravity Falls and cut it off from the rest of the world in more ways than one. He's not moving at all. He thinks maybe he can't move, but he hasn't tried. The thought just doesn't cross his mind. It doesn't seem like a real possibility.

And it's really kind of nice, because he's just sitting in the forest, admiring the vivid colors of the leaves and waiting for something to change, something that he knows to have nothing to do with the seasons at all. It's a little taste of what home had been for thirty years, even when he and his brother were now hundred of miles away from land.

Not that it's all perfect, because nothing really is. He figures he doesn't have his glasses in his dreams or something, because everything always looks just the slightest bit off in a dizzy kind of way, like he's seeing the world through one eye.

He doesn't quite manage to sail all around the whole world with Ford, but they make it down south a decent way before they decide they're both sick of ship's rations and hard cots on aging bones, and spend a few days on shore at a small coastal town in México.

Stan orders their dinner, because while Ford knows something like half a dozen alien languages, he just can't deal with the reflexive pronouns of Spanish.

It just wasn't the way he was used to thinking, Ford admits morosely into a cup of something bright and colorful, which meant it probably had some obscene amount of alcohol. Memorizing vocabulary and tenses were easy, but grammar was logic was thought. He was used to a certain way of viewing the world, a set chronology of people and actions, and changing his fundamental way of thinking - well, that had never been something he could wrap his head around entirely. An entirely different matter from an additional complexity of algebra or deriving some law of physics.

Stan shrugs, and takes another shot of straight tequila. He's on his third, and he's not quite sure if he's feeling it. He hasn't gotten drunk since his brain got erased.

It burns like hell on the way down, but he finds that he's really liking the pain. There's a novelty to the sensation, and an illogical quality to this entire - strange routine that he and Stanford were engaging in that he wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh. It was just so human to pour poison down your gullet, set the glass down, and say with no irony at all, another, please!

"Can't say I get it," Stan admits. "Hey, Sixer, you know? In Mandarin Chinese you gotta set the whole stage of a sentence before you say anything actually important. You wanna take a piss? First you hafta figure out the place, the weather, the time -"

Ford eyes him. "Just how many languages do you know, Stanley?" He asks.

"Dunno. A lot. It's not that big of a deal. When you go to a lot of places and you meet a lot of people, you have to pick up a few languages to make sure they don't end up screwing you over."

"Well, it's a big deal to me," Ford says. "That's an impressive ability to have, Stanley. It means you have a talent for thinking on the fly and adapting to new situations. You have to really understand human thought to navigate it in that way."

"Ha," Stan scoffs, trying hard not to let his lips curve up into a pleased smile. "Don't think I don't see you trying to butter me up, Sixer."

Regardless, it's working. Stan had never - well, he thought he had never - thought much about his ability for languages, just because it had always seemed so intuitive. Why did it matter in what order information was conveyed, or who was doing what to whom, or a dozen, hundred other fiddly bits when he knew exactly what was going on at the core of things? It seemed so static, so limiting to think in a way that was so fixated on the details.

But Ford found it impressive. He thought it was a talent.

And, if Stan wasn't mistaken... he seemed proud. Of him.

"Hey," Stan says, leaning a bit closer. "You wanna test just how many languages I know? Start countin'."

So he just keeps spitting them out, hello's and random words that pop up in his head, as many as he can think of. Ford puts down all twelve fingers within a minute, and has to wrap around.

In hindsight, it's a mistake. Stan's so focused on impressing Ford that he entirely misses when his brother's expression turns from pleasant surprise to neutral shock to a sharp kind of concern, and then, on the eighteenth, to a suspicious kind of worry.

"What language was the last one?" Ford asks calmly, and Stan knows him well enough to know that it is with the specific note of calm that his brother had in his voice only when he wasn't really, not in any way.

He's not sure. "Uh," he says, "Swahili, I think. Why?"

It's not Swahili. He knows that because he knows Swahili, too.

"That's not Swahili."

Stan smiles uncomfortably. "Huh, yeah. You're right. Dunno how I mixed that one up. I, uh, don't actually know what language that is. I must've picked the phrase up somewhere, just stuck in my memory."

"I know that language," Ford says, and there's something in his eyes that makes Stan go quiet. "It's from the planet Tixchenfanuh, located several million lightyears from this solar system. It's been dead for thousands of years."

"Oh. Cool." "Stanley, how on Earth do you know a dead alien language?"

He had no reply to that. "I don't remember," he says, and maybe it's a low blow to use that but he really doesn't know. "Maybe I just picked it up somewhere, it could happen."

"No," Ford says flatly, shaking his head. "No, it couldn't."

There's something about that, that makes Stan bristle. "Then how do you know it, huh?"

"From a friend," his brother says guardedly. "One who has lived for millennia, and had harbored many refugees from the worlds that perished under Bill's domination."

And, yeah. That was it. Ford had said the name, which meant that he wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore.

"You think it's a Bill thing," Stan says flatly.

"I'm not saying it has to do with Bill," his brother says quickly. But he has always been a terrible liar, ol' Fordsy.

They're quiet for a moment, the two of them and their respective poisons. It's a stifling kind of silence, the flat kind that's familiar in the worst kind of way, the kind that makes Stan want to get up and break something, shout at the top of his lungs so he can breathe again.

He doesn't do that. "I'm sorry, Sixer," he says instead, because he doesn't know what else to do. "I just remember things. I don't know where they come from. I, uh. I take what I can get."

Ford picks up his bright, colorful drink and starts chugging. When he's done, he wipes at his mouth and looks at Stan with an expression he can't read.

"I think it would be a good idea," Ford says steadily, "if you told me what exactly you remember."

The sea waves are slow and soft today, washing darkly onto the side of the Stan o' War and never getting farther than a few inches before receding. The breeze is brisk without being cold, with a cool saltiness to it that makes Stan lick his lips again and again and again. There's the soft flap of wings somewhere in the starry sky, and he wonders distantly how birds could ever find their way home when they spent so much of their lives that far from the ground.

It really is a perfect evening. Stan says so out loud.

"I wonder if we could ever have imagined this for ourselves," Ford replies, eyes looking up, up, up. "When we were young, and the future felt like it would never come."

Stan doesn't know. He doesn't remember. So he sits there and pretends that that's fine, like he has for the past three months.

They start off with the easy stuff.

He tells Ford about accidentally pickpocketing the keys to the ship's cabin from him a couple weeks back, and only noticing when one dug painfully into his right buttock when he squatted down to tie a knot. He tells him about waking up and hearing the last fading notes of piano music, about waking up and just really craving toffee peanuts. And there was once, he says to Ford after thinking for a long while, when he woke up to the darkness of the main cabin and remembered, with uncomfortable clarity, what it was like to be trapped in a place with no light and no way out. Only the sound of his own furious screams in his ears, and something burning and terrible certainty that he would escape, he would, no matter what he had to do.

Then there's a pretty ridiculous caper he had just remembered about a week ago, and almost decided to write all of it down until he remembered he probably didn't want anything on paper that would incriminate him in a court of law. He had gone through with it back in the day, and it had involved a dozen pugs and an especially furious hotelier. He tells Ford about it, and something unwinds and relieves within him at the slight upwards curve of his brother's lips.

For a while, Stan rambles about a flat world with flat minds, of rules and restrictions, where difference was feared and creativity even more so. There's something that bothers him about it, that sets his teeth on edge. He gets really emotionally into it before Ford tells him that he's pretty sure that was just the plot of that show he used to watch obsessively, The Duchess Approves.

It is with a pause that he tells his brother that sometimes, he remembers facts that don't make sense. He knows that they're true, so says that feeling nestled deep in his gut. He just doesn't know how they could be.

"Like what?" Ford says, like he's dreading the answer.

"Do you hate me?" Stan asks. His fingers hurt from digging into the wood of the ship's deck.

His brother makes a strangled kind of noise, somewhere between surprise and discomfort. "Stanley, I - " He says, and his voice sounds so small. "No. No, of course I don't. I never did."

"Huh."

"Why," Ford breathes, tries again. "Why do you ask?"

"I think I did something bad. Not like the, screwing up on the anchor knot and making us swim a hundred meters into the ocean at midnight, kind of bad." He feels cold, suddenly, like the wind is blowing right through his layers and into his bones. "I think I did something bad enough that you didn't forgive me for it, and there was nothin' I could say to get you to change your mind."

His brother doesn't reply at first, and by the light of the lantern Stan can see the muscles of his jaw working at something that he couldn't get out.

"You made a mistake," Ford says at last. "You were young, and you made a mistake, and for a while, I thought I hated you for it. But I didn't, and it took me too long to realize that." He bows his head a bit, and then he says, "I'm sorry, Stanley."

Stan hears him, but he doesn't know what to say. There's something in him that's honestly, well, freaking the fuck out. He's caught somewhere between shock and disbelief and a strange warm sensation he didn't know how to put into words, and he doesn't know why. He feels like an actor thrown into the middle of a scene he hadn't had the chance to prepare for.

"I never had the chance to tell you before, so I'm telling you now," Ford continues rapidly, like he can't believe he's saying it either. "I'm sorry I ever thought that that was enough reason to hate you."

"I'm sorry too," Stan says, and that is the one thing he can think of saying that doesn't come out like a memorized line. There's a certainty in it that he didn't know he had.

He's remembering something, more like splotches of paint on a canvas than anything at all clear and defined. They're emotions more than thoughts, but on some strange level he knows that they're completely and utterly his.

"I think I hated you," he continues. "For a real long time."

Ford flinches, but he's not done, not even close.

"If you hadn't left, we could've had everything we ever wanted. But nothing I said could convince you to stay, not even a bit." He's quiet for a long moment. "I think I was angry. I think - I think I wanted to make you hurt, the way I did."

He hears his brother swallow. "Stanley..."

"But you came back."

Ford is quiet. "You brought me back," he corrects.

That was right, except where it wasn't.

"I think I was happy, then," Stan says. "I think I was happier than I had been for years and years and years. With you back, everything was right again. I don't know how I could've ever been so angry, before."

He leans back, both hands on the wooden board of the deck, and listens to his brother's soft breathing against the slow sound of the waves.

"It sounds like," Ford says slowly, "there's a lot we need to work out. Not just about your memories."

They sit there in silence for a long moment, looking into the darkness of the vanishing horizon. All at once, it doesn't seem so comforting anymore.

He thinks about the warm rays of the summer sun and how the trees of Oregon cast dim shade on ground that could have never seen the sun, and he feels suddenly, painfully homesick. There's some part of him that wants desperately to be back there, something pulling him back even though he knows the kids are at school and Soos is probably busy making the Mystery Shack his own.

Stan says, voice distant to his own ears, "Ford, let's go home."

That night, Stan doesn't dream of the forest again. Instead, he's in a room that he recognizes immediately, because it was here where his first clear memories began, all those months ago. But here and now, the living room of the Mystery Shack is at once entirely familiar and utterly strange, as if he was seeing it from the perspective of someone else.

There’s a man with yellow eyes sitting on the couch. He's staring at the television, idly bouncing a paddleball in his hand, a can of Pitt Cola grasped tight in the other. There's something familiar about his features, about his lantern jaw, the easy way in which his square frames settle on the bulbous rise of his nose.

When Stan walks in, he looks down at him like he's been expecting him.

"Hey, pal," the man says with a wry smile. "It's funny how things work out, yeah?"

"Uh," he says, and takes a wobbly step forward on legs that feel too short.

"Why don't ya take a seat?" The man snaps his fingers.

And then he's sitting, just like that. The cushion of the chair hugs his butt just like the one back in the Shack. It feels a lot bigger, though.

"Glad ya dropped by," says the other. "See, I've been meanin' to talk to you for a while now. I was gettin' a bit worried that you wouldn't ever show up."

Stan has no idea what's going on. He looks into slitted, yellow eyes and that really should be explanation enough, except it isn't.

"Who are you?" Stan asks.

"I'm Stanley Pines," says the stranger who isn't. It doesn't make any sense, except it does. "Thought that'd be obvious."

He grins, and there's something vicious about it.

"So the real question here, buddy, is - who are you?"

#gf #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #stanford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #(or is he?? *ghost noises*)#buying gold verse #my fic

50 notes · View notes

groundcuntrol · 7 years

Text

Confession no 17

I'm so selfish and I hope you'll forgive me but I am completely disgusted with myself because I never told you all the things I wanted to say. And if you'd let me I hope you'd listen to what has been burning inside of me ever since I've come to know you. You're my favorite person I've ever met. And I've been lucky to call you mine before and I know I've never been one to trust. You're the only one that I would ever do anything for. I would swim across the sea and back for u. You have the most. Beautiful brain. You're a fucking beautiful person. I've never felt this way about anyone. Your little flaws are the most beautiful thing to me. You're the only one to have ever made me feel like I wasn't fucking insane, that everything's gonna be okay. You're the phthalo blue in my head and we mirror what it's like to be a compliment color scheme. Cause they might not mix to be the prettiest colors but they bring out the. Best in each other. I would be your side kick if you asked me. I would take a million punches so u wouldn't. Have to. I'd be the fucking robin to ur batsman if u asked me. Lately I can't even fucking think without wondering if ur feeling better. I would never hurt you. Ever in a million gazillion years. I'd never cheat u and u can't even think about any other boys. I can't even draw in my sketch book. Cause I can't throw away my art because it makes me so happy to see the way u made me feel on paper. I'm sorry I'm so drunk. And I'm not begging u to come back. I just wanted to tell u that I love you. I'm in love with you. And I know now we might float our separate ways. If we never talk again that's ok. If we pretend we'd never met that would be sad but I would compare it to the way that the mountains and the moon stare blankly at each other and remain equidistant until the end of time. But I would just feel sick for probably the rest of my life if I never told u. I could tell you were acting bipolar, I didn't want to say anything. Because love is patient and forgiving. And you seem to know all the walls of my head and I'd like to think I was getting to know yours. In the morning you can chose to act like this never happened. But anyways. I just wanted to let you know. Thanks

1 note · View note

luxrealestateinv · 6 years

Text

Creating A Bedtime Routine

Yassss bedtime routines *rubs hands in glee*

The bedtime routine is one of the first things I chat about with my people. Want to see massive improvements in your sleep? Gain energy throughout the day? Burn fat? Take over the world?

Splendid! Today we’re going to help you create a personalized evening routine that may just become your favorite part of the day.

First let’s play the “Rate My Sleep” Game!

Answer the following questions as honestly as possible…

Rate the quality of your sleep, with 1 being “shitttay” and 10 being “the sleep of the dead I get on a beach vacation.”

How many hours on average do you sleep per night?

How many hours of sleep, on average, do you get before midnight?

Do you have a consistent time each night that you get into bed?

Describe your sleep…do you dream, sleep like the dead, or wake up sporadically?

Do you have a regular meditation, prayer, breathing or stillness practice?

How do you feel first thing in the morning?

Briefly describe your energy levels throughout the day including…

6-9am

9-12pm

12-3p

3-6p

6-9p

Yes, try to think about all of them, or at least the highlights. You may notice a trend which can help pinpoint an energy or nutrition-related trigger.

What is the temperature in your bedroom?

Describe the 60 minutes leading up to when you climb into bed. What is your environment like, what do you do?

How’d that go? The information you gather through that assessment can give you a ton of insight into optimizing your sleep. If you were surprised by any of the questions or if there were some frequent “no’s” that’s GREAT! We’ve got something to work on!

So, why a bedtime routine?

Have you ever strolled into the gym, sidled up to a loaded barbell or dumbbell cold turkey and tried to throw it overhead?

Chances are most of us recoiled at the thought (and if you didn’t, errr that probably won’t last long lol). Cuz, ya know, we’re human and even if our warmups aren’t perfect we at least do a little stretching or warmup before we start throwing our bodies around.

So why don’t we apply that same mentality to our sleep? We run a million miles an hour during the day, get home, eat, take care of chores, plunk in front of a lightbox flashing a gazillion images straight into our brain – and then tell ourselves we have insomnia or sleep issues because we can’t fall asleep right away.

Hmmmm….

“Most people need a good hour of winding down time before they’re just physically and mentally ready to go bed,” Dr. Philip Gehrman, assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania’s Perelman School of Medicine. Chronically bad sleep screws with our hormones, decreases longevity, reduces our ability to fight illness and disease, reduces mental acuity and increases body fat…blerg. Let’s noooot.

Despite what many may think, it’s highly unlikely that your body needs less than seven hours of sleep to thrive, says Rami Khayat, MD, a physician in the division of pulmonary, critical care and sleep medicine at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center in Columbus, Ohio. Ok, so now that we’re on the same page, let’s create your routine!

Step 1: The Essentials

Consistency is KEYYYYYYY – It’s all about telling our bodies and minds it’s time for sleep so the necessary processes can get going. Unfortunately, our bodies don’t know the difference between a Monday and a Friday…so, if you’re serious about upgrading your sleep, think about pushing social and fun things to the daytime for awhile.

Write out your routine – Start by including some easy elements like turning down lights, turning off tv’s etc. Try including a couple calming activities such as light stretching or breathing. I’m going to list some ideas in the next section.

Pick a start time – Pick a time to begin your routine every night and stick with it. This should be at least 30min, ideally 60min, before you plan on climbing into bed for sleep, but BE REALISTIC. If you’re currently binging tv for 3 hours until 12pm, don’t expect to be tired at 9pm for a while.

BE PATIENT – Manage your expectations. It is unlikely you will notice some massive difference after doing this once or even a few times. Our bodies are incredible at adaption but they’ve adapted to operating at different times, releasing hormones at certain times for awhile and those processes require time and consistency to change. Stick with it – I PROMISE it gets better.

Step 2: Pick some activities

Popping on your blue blocker glasses

Dimming lights around the house

Easy tidying, a few dishes or clothes etc

Brewing tea – I love Nighty Night with Valerian and Chamomile with Lavender

Laying out clothes for the next day

Prepping breakfast and/or lunch for the next day

Quick shower – warm or cold (my favorite is cold as it helps lower my body temperature and ease me into sleep – particularly in this hellish heat)

Journaling – reflect on what you’re grateful for or your wins of the day

Brain dumping – especially if you tend to have anxiety or racing thoughts in the evening; keep it next to your bed to purge last minute to-do’s or stresses

Gentle stretching – pick 2-3 positions or stretches and hold them for 5-10 DEEP breaths, keep it simple

Reading – keep it light

Step 3: Consider some other helpful tips (down the rabbit hole we go)

Eliminate all ambient or technological lights from your bedroom

Get your phone and all electronics out of the bedroom – I’m super cereal on this, it’s an absolute game changer not just for sleep but for your life and mentality

Download f.lux on all electronics if you are a “take your work home with you” kid

Keep the room cool and DARK

Clear/organize your room – as little clutter as possible

Get sunshine on your skin first thing in the am – combined with a little walk will help reset your circadian rhythm and help you sleep better the upcoming night

Fav Products (yay, we like buying things!)

Swanwick Blue Blocker glasses – affectionately dubbed “birth control” glasses by some

Himalyan salt lamp – I love having this lamp in my room and walking in to a relaxed atmosphere

Air purifier such as Levoit – I discovered what it was like to wake up with a completely clear sinus and nose when I put one of these in my room. Deeper sleep and less inhalation of crap will ensue.

Essential oils/diffuser – Bishhhh, don’t even get on me about my lavender. No, I’m not selling or buying. If you want super high quality without the membership check out Snow Lotus.

Phillips Sunrise Simulating Clock – This was wonderful when I needed to get up at a certain time (holla to that internal alarm clock that goes off at 7:47 these days #JackReacher anyone?). It sets to a gradually building light and/or sounds that will start your day off WAY better than those cortisol-inducing phone alarms. And those phones are getting out of the room anyway right??

Lectrofan Sleep Sound Machine – My Levoit Air Purifier is the perfect sleep sound machine but this is great for travel or if you have a more silent air purifier.

Alright gang, I hope you got a nugget or two from this week’s topic. I love digging into habits and routines like this because of the domino-effect they can have on the other hours of our day. Look for the low hanging fruit in your life – what is ONE habit that you can implement that would have a trickle-down impact on your health and wellbeing?

The post Creating A Bedtime Routine appeared first on BFrank Coaching.

source https://bfrankcoaching.com/bedtime-routine/

0 notes

luxrealestateinvestorswaukeganil · 6 years

Text

Creating A Bedtime Routine

Yassss bedtime routines *rubs hands in glee*

The bedtime routine is one of the first things I chat about with my people. Want to see massive improvements in your sleep? Gain energy throughout the day? Burn fat? Take over the world?

Splendid! Today we’re going to help you create a personalized evening routine that may just become your favorite part of the day.

First let’s play the “Rate My Sleep” Game!

Answer the following questions as honestly as possible…

Rate the quality of your sleep, with 1 being “shitttay” and 10 being “the sleep of the dead I get on a beach vacation.”

How many hours on average do you sleep per night?

How many hours of sleep, on average, do you get before midnight?

Do you have a consistent time each night that you get into bed?

Describe your sleep…do you dream, sleep like the dead, or wake up sporadically?

Do you have a regular meditation, prayer, breathing or stillness practice?

How do you feel first thing in the morning?

Briefly describe your energy levels throughout the day including…

6-9am

9-12pm

12-3p

3-6p

6-9p

Yes, try to think about all of them, or at least the highlights. You may notice a trend which can help pinpoint an energy or nutrition-related trigger.

What is the temperature in your bedroom?

Describe the 60 minutes leading up to when you climb into bed. What is your environment like, what do you do?

So, why a bedtime routine?

Have you ever strolled into the gym, sidled up to a loaded barbell or dumbbell cold turkey and tried to throw it overhead?

Hmmmm….

Step 1: The Essentials

Step 2: Pick some activities

Popping on your blue blocker glasses

Dimming lights around the house

Easy tidying, a few dishes or clothes etc

Brewing tea – I love Nighty Night with Valerian and Chamomile with Lavender

Laying out clothes for the next day

Prepping breakfast and/or lunch for the next day

Quick shower – warm or cold (my favorite is cold as it helps lower my body temperature and ease me into sleep – particularly in this hellish heat)

Journaling – reflect on what you’re grateful for or your wins of the day

Brain dumping – especially if you tend to have anxiety or racing thoughts in the evening; keep it next to your bed to purge last minute to-do’s or stresses

Gentle stretching – pick 2-3 positions or stretches and hold them for 5-10 DEEP breaths, keep it simple

Reading – keep it light

Step 3: Consider some other helpful tips (down the rabbit hole we go)

Eliminate all ambient or technological lights from your bedroom

Get your phone and all electronics out of the bedroom – I’m super cereal on this, it’s an absolute game changer not just for sleep but for your life and mentality

Download f.lux on all electronics if you are a “take your work home with you” kid

Keep the room cool and DARK

Clear/organize your room – as little clutter as possible

Get sunshine on your skin first thing in the am – combined with a little walk will help reset your circadian rhythm and help you sleep better the upcoming night

Fav Products (yay, we like buying things!)

Swanwick Blue Blocker glasses – affectionately dubbed “birth control” glasses by some

Himalyan salt lamp – I love having this lamp in my room and walking in to a relaxed atmosphere

Essential oils/diffuser – Bishhhh, don’t even get on me about my lavender. No, I’m not selling or buying. If you want super high quality without the membership check out Snow Lotus.

Lectrofan Sleep Sound Machine – My Levoit Air Purifier is the perfect sleep sound machine but this is great for travel or if you have a more silent air purifier.

The post Creating A Bedtime Routine appeared first on BFrank Coaching.

source https://bfrankcoaching.com/bedtime-routine/

0 notes

luxrealestateinvestorslakevillai · 6 years

Text

Creating A Bedtime Routine

Yassss bedtime routines *rubs hands in glee*

The bedtime routine is one of the first things I chat about with my people. Want to see massive improvements in your sleep? Gain energy throughout the day? Burn fat? Take over the world?

Splendid! Today we’re going to help you create a personalized evening routine that may just become your favorite part of the day.

First let’s play the “Rate My Sleep” Game!

Answer the following questions as honestly as possible…

Rate the quality of your sleep, with 1 being “shitttay” and 10 being “the sleep of the dead I get on a beach vacation.”

How many hours on average do you sleep per night?

How many hours of sleep, on average, do you get before midnight?

Do you have a consistent time each night that you get into bed?

Describe your sleep…do you dream, sleep like the dead, or wake up sporadically?

Do you have a regular meditation, prayer, breathing or stillness practice?

How do you feel first thing in the morning?

Briefly describe your energy levels throughout the day including…

6-9am

9-12pm

12-3p

3-6p

6-9p

Yes, try to think about all of them, or at least the highlights. You may notice a trend which can help pinpoint an energy or nutrition-related trigger.

What is the temperature in your bedroom?

Describe the 60 minutes leading up to when you climb into bed. What is your environment like, what do you do?

So, why a bedtime routine?

Have you ever strolled into the gym, sidled up to a loaded barbell or dumbbell cold turkey and tried to throw it overhead?

Hmmmm….

Step 1: The Essentials

Step 2: Pick some activities

Popping on your blue blocker glasses

Dimming lights around the house

Easy tidying, a few dishes or clothes etc

Brewing tea – I love Nighty Night with Valerian and Chamomile with Lavender

Laying out clothes for the next day

Prepping breakfast and/or lunch for the next day

Quick shower – warm or cold (my favorite is cold as it helps lower my body temperature and ease me into sleep – particularly in this hellish heat)

Journaling – reflect on what you’re grateful for or your wins of the day

Brain dumping – especially if you tend to have anxiety or racing thoughts in the evening; keep it next to your bed to purge last minute to-do’s or stresses

Gentle stretching – pick 2-3 positions or stretches and hold them for 5-10 DEEP breaths, keep it simple

Reading – keep it light

Step 3: Consider some other helpful tips (down the rabbit hole we go)

Eliminate all ambient or technological lights from your bedroom

Get your phone and all electronics out of the bedroom – I’m super cereal on this, it’s an absolute game changer not just for sleep but for your life and mentality

Download f.lux on all electronics if you are a “take your work home with you” kid

Keep the room cool and DARK

Clear/organize your room – as little clutter as possible

Get sunshine on your skin first thing in the am – combined with a little walk will help reset your circadian rhythm and help you sleep better the upcoming night

Fav Products (yay, we like buying things!)

Swanwick Blue Blocker glasses – affectionately dubbed “birth control” glasses by some

Himalyan salt lamp – I love having this lamp in my room and walking in to a relaxed atmosphere

Essential oils/diffuser – Bishhhh, don’t even get on me about my lavender. No, I’m not selling or buying. If you want super high quality without the membership check out Snow Lotus.

Lectrofan Sleep Sound Machine – My Levoit Air Purifier is the perfect sleep sound machine but this is great for travel or if you have a more silent air purifier.

The post Creating A Bedtime Routine appeared first on BFrank Coaching.

from BFrank Coaching https://bfrankcoaching.com/bedtime-routine/

0 notes

luxrealestateinvestorsanitoch · 6 years

Text

Creating A Bedtime Routine

Yassss bedtime routines *rubs hands in glee*

The bedtime routine is one of the first things I chat about with my people. Want to see massive improvements in your sleep? Gain energy throughout the day? Burn fat? Take over the world?

Splendid! Today we’re going to help you create a personalized evening routine that may just become your favorite part of the day.

First let’s play the “Rate My Sleep” Game!

Answer the following questions as honestly as possible…

Rate the quality of your sleep, with 1 being “shitttay” and 10 being “the sleep of the dead I get on a beach vacation.”

How many hours on average do you sleep per night?

How many hours of sleep, on average, do you get before midnight?

Do you have a consistent time each night that you get into bed?

Describe your sleep…do you dream, sleep like the dead, or wake up sporadically?

Do you have a regular meditation, prayer, breathing or stillness practice?

How do you feel first thing in the morning?

Briefly describe your energy levels throughout the day including…

6-9am

9-12pm

12-3p

3-6p

6-9p

Yes, try to think about all of them, or at least the highlights. You may notice a trend which can help pinpoint an energy or nutrition-related trigger.

What is the temperature in your bedroom?

Describe the 60 minutes leading up to when you climb into bed. What is your environment like, what do you do?

So, why a bedtime routine?

Have you ever strolled into the gym, sidled up to a loaded barbell or dumbbell cold turkey and tried to throw it overhead?

Hmmmm….

Step 1: The Essentials

Step 2: Pick some activities

Popping on your blue blocker glasses

Dimming lights around the house

Easy tidying, a few dishes or clothes etc

Brewing tea – I love Nighty Night with Valerian and Chamomile with Lavender

Laying out clothes for the next day

Prepping breakfast and/or lunch for the next day

Quick shower – warm or cold (my favorite is cold as it helps lower my body temperature and ease me into sleep – particularly in this hellish heat)

Journaling – reflect on what you’re grateful for or your wins of the day

Brain dumping – especially if you tend to have anxiety or racing thoughts in the evening; keep it next to your bed to purge last minute to-do’s or stresses

Gentle stretching – pick 2-3 positions or stretches and hold them for 5-10 DEEP breaths, keep it simple

Reading – keep it light

Step 3: Consider some other helpful tips (down the rabbit hole we go)

Eliminate all ambient or technological lights from your bedroom

Get your phone and all electronics out of the bedroom – I’m super cereal on this, it’s an absolute game changer not just for sleep but for your life and mentality

Download f.lux on all electronics if you are a “take your work home with you” kid

Keep the room cool and DARK

Clear/organize your room – as little clutter as possible

Get sunshine on your skin first thing in the am – combined with a little walk will help reset your circadian rhythm and help you sleep better the upcoming night

Fav Products (yay, we like buying things!)

Swanwick Blue Blocker glasses – affectionately dubbed “birth control” glasses by some

Himalyan salt lamp – I love having this lamp in my room and walking in to a relaxed atmosphere

Essential oils/diffuser – Bishhhh, don’t even get on me about my lavender. No, I’m not selling or buying. If you want super high quality without the membership check out Snow Lotus.

Lectrofan Sleep Sound Machine – My Levoit Air Purifier is the perfect sleep sound machine but this is great for travel or if you have a more silent air purifier.

The post Creating A Bedtime Routine appeared first on BFrank Coaching.

from BFrank Coaching https://bfrankcoaching.com/bedtime-routine/

0 notes

cep2000 · 6 years

Text

Where to Now, Albuquerque?

| PRINT | EMAIL | PERMALINK

News Editorial The seer, the jester and the scholar

So the earth continues to travel undisturbed in an unfathomably huge elliptical path around the sun, an impossibly massive, hot, yet verifiably real object only 93 million miles away. That burning blob of plasma gives us life. So remember that whatever spiritual, metaphysical, religious or scientific ideas this essay on prognostication engenders, we’re all ultimately sun worshippers and our god is at least 4.5 billion years old—constantly aflame with just the sort of radiation fleshy beings like us need to survive in the depths of space, by the way.

With all the uncertainty such a labyrinthine existential scheme breeds, it’s no doubt the big-brained, hairless, bipedal apes—of which you and I are invested tribe-members—are going to go seeking for further clarification.

That’s probably especially true these days, when American culture has just spent the past two years transitioning from a hopeful, progressive, democratic society with growing global reach into a dour yet determined, regressive populist-nationalist regime dressed in protectionist and isolationist costumes to hide its ravenous imperial nature.

What’s next? is not so much a rhetorical question or urgent bourgeois expletive uttered every month on bill day as it is the symbol of a real, growing quest to understand the massive changes facing human culture right now.

In the midst of crisis the answers folks seek tend to come from experts. The advice of the common man just won’t do it in times when there just ain’t no job growth and the North Koreans have an A-Bomb aimed at the heart of our enterprise. Economists are consulted. Planetary scientists. Mystics and lawyers. Rabbis, priests and bishops get a say too, as year-end predictions come pouring out through a gazillion media outlets.

But among our small communities, at the beginning of an all-too warm winter, we also tend to talk among ourselves. Here at Weekly Alibi, there’s always a plethora of the informed, curiously shaping and inhabiting the spaces of our lives right here in Burque.

Here’s who we talked to: local psychic Reta Crook-Bray, legendary Burqueño poet and bunny-man, Jeff Hartzer and public health scientist John Scariano. While their looks at the future varied and sometimes were at odds, they all wrote to us from their hearts about the future—the place where, the Amazing Criswell noted, we will spend the rest of our lives.

Reta Crook-Bray has been a part of the metaphysical/psychic community all of her life. While in high school her aunt and mother opened Abitha’s with the hope of bringing the tools to folks who practice the old ways. Reta has served Albuquerque’s Pagan community for near 30 years and looks forward to the years to come.

Weekly Alibi: What is happening in the world now, why have the last two years been so chaotic and where are we going?

Reta Crook-Bray: First, the past two years, fear and doubt have ruled side by side. Psychically meaning that once one allows fear and/or doubt to have a place in their life that person loses their own power.

The start to 2018 is blessing us with the full moon, Jan. 1. It is what is called a wolf moon and is full of strength and determination. It is also a supermoon, meaning that it is unusually close to the Earth, this will allow us to shed the guck and muck that we have been carrying for the past two or so years. Giving us the chance to lay a sound and strong foundation to build our goals and dreams upon.

Putting into place "resolutions" at this time of year is the norm, but think more if you will to be putting "the law" into effect, saying in effect, “This is how my year will be!” I will not settle for anything less than. … Placing such statements into your energy/aura, one is adding intention and purpose to what they want and deserve.

How will things continue to change in 2018?

2018 is going to be a great year. Full of opportunities and new experiences. If one works on growing a positive vibration of good intent, all the ill and negativity that has been breeding will have no place and will have no strength to meddle.

Are there forces at work in this world beyond what the average human imagines? Are those forces working for or against us?

The extra energies that have been "hanging" around have been with us on this plane since Samhain, also known as Halloween. Several folks have felt the presence of their loved ones and others who have passed for several weeks now, not knowing exactly why but open to understanding it.

During the time of Samhain the veil between our world and the next becomes very thin. At that time spirits are able to visit and if they wish help those of us on the physical plane with what we might be trying to achieve. Energies of our guides, ancestors and guardian angels are always with us to try and help keep us on the path that we were placed upon from birth.

With that, there are also energies that when they left their physical body did not wish to leave this plane and have taken up a space filling it with a harmful and malice desire to harm those who physically reside in that space.

When off feelings come over you you can call out or pray for safety and protection from anything that wishes you harm. Cleansing your home, work, car, family and self will help clear these energies from the space and allow more peace and positive energy to reside.

What about all the dry warm weather this winter, what does that mean?

This past November, I saw a post of my friend’s daughter building a snowman, normal for this time of year? yes. Where they live? No. My friend and her family live in Covington, La., just outside New Orleans. Here in New Mexico I see it as a blessing. Meaning that there are beings that are part of the land and are trying all that they can to make a better place for all of us. In doing so the energetic vibrations are so high that the traditional winter has no place here at this time.

Anything else you might want to add about the human condition, hope, the future?

As we go into 2018, keep your vibrations positive. When doubt wiggles into your thoughts tell it to "go away," or, "Be gone before someone drops a house on you." Give those negative thoughts and ill intent wishes no place to call home. And above all else be good to each other.

A lifelong educator, writer, poet and photographer—who was also one of this town’s first legitimate bloggers—Jeff Hartzer is also the curator of Bunnytown USA and a partner at AirDance ArtSpace. He has been a fresh and chaotic voice of this desert since 1985.

Weekly Alibi: What did you dream about 2018?

Jeff Hartzer: I awoke on New Year’s Day in the midst of an action-packed apocalyptic dream. A group including me, was each looking to hide in a ghost town similar to the set of AMC’s season one of “Preacher” at the Bonanza Creek Ranch in Cerrillos—with dusty roads, old half-open buildings and surrounded by a very vast unknown of emptiness. In this dream, no one knew each other, no one knew the apparently mobile enemy. We were each weaponless, lost, hungry, tired, dirty and very afraid. We were not hiding from zombies but rather from a mobile humanity on the hunt. And, we each felt helpless and yes, hopeless.

My dream was not an auspicious start to what the Chinese Zodiac refers to as the “Year of the Earth Dog” (2/16/2018-2/4/2019). Our Commander-in-Chief was unfortunately born in 1946, making him in the Chinese parlance, an Earth Dog; yet, number 45 is the only POTUS in 130 years to not own a dog. Why would he? He genuinely only loves himself with no room for pets in his tiny cone of ‘love’. He even made “Merry Christmas” all about himself. Jesus! On the other paw, dogs receive all of our love (or hate) and return only geometrically increased amounts of true unconditional love no matter how kicked around or ignored they may be.

What do your dreams say about Albuquerque?

The world famous Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta will be canceled this year for lack of “hot air”—the stuff will be spewing unabated in Washington, leading to a ballooning crisis. Our Peetza Governor will secede to the Democrats as scheduled. At least three giant big box stores will be reborn as marijuana dispensaries. Mother Earth’s sacred salt beds will tire of mistakes at WIPP; results unknown.

Don Schrader will finally have to pay taxes after the skyrocketing sales of brewskis and apparel merch for his new brew, WHIZZBANGERS goes national. At thefullwiki.org Don shares, “I have drunk my piss every day since 11/10/1999.” Party on, Don. Zozobra will finally marry up and have little Zozos just like Orbit’s little ones. Finally and most importantly, I predict that Mayor Tim Keller’s new beard will become white by next Christmas.

As a scientist, John Scariano works with large amounts of healthcare data to determine positive outcomes for his patients. A Chicago native, he’s also passionate about culture and politics and has 28 years of teaching and research experience at the UNM School of Medicine, Department of Pathology.

Weekly Alibi: How will American life and health be affected in 2018?

John Scariano: The life expectancy in the US will decrease again this year, largely to the huge amount of opioid addiction we’re discovering especially among white, middle class, middle-aged adults.

In the larger scope of things, how will the health of the planet be affected this year?

Approval of previously banned neonicotinoid pesticides—made possible by the Trump administration—will cause continued decrease in specifice pollinating insect populations, particularly bumble- and honeybee populations. On a related note, the western US will continue to face a significant drought and subsequently there will be more wildfires.

What do you see as an outcome to this and other scientific issues?

Despite the denigration of science and scientists, reason and clear thinking will gain a new beach head after Nov. 2018.

Source Article

The post Where to Now, Albuquerque? appeared first on CEP 2000.

Read full post at: http://www.cep2000.com/where-to-now-albuquerque/

0 notes