#who you are deep within is infinitely more important than who the world tells you to be

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: Stranger in a Strange Land

Author: Robert A. Heinlein

Rating: 2/5 stars

Folks, folks: this book is good, but only in the way that one would say that the Hindenburg is a pretty good airship.

For me it was . . . an exercise. An experiment. I tried to read it casually, just sort of skimming and filling in the blanks, like a normal person, but after 20 or 30 pages I got annoyed and more or less forced myself to read it deliberately. (Okay, to be fair, I think I did this with Stranger because it was the book people have the most problems with reading it, whereas I never had a problem with "Animal Farm" or anything.) It is one of the most psychologically unrewarding books that I have ever read. I do not say this to make fun of it -- I say it because, well, I don't know, because I would like to make fun of it in a way that seems funny.

Imagine a clown, watching a performance of Macbeth, and getting all excited because it's about something he knows something about, having to do with American politics in the 1980s. It's important to imagine this clown as actually intelligent, because if he is dumb, then the metaphor is not about the asinine way he is responding to the performance, but about the ways in which people tend to approach theater, in general. He believes this show is his, that this play is a work of art -- and he believes this because he is a clown and we laugh at clowns.

What is he laughing about? He's laughing at the thought that Macbeth has something to say to him. And yet the thought that such a work of art might say something to you is, in itself, profoundly profound. It is hard to imagine anything more inspiring than this. We are forever telling one another that we should dare to be bored, that boredom is a crime, but that we should never be intimidated, that anything we can imagine (at least in theory) is within our grasp, that there is no work of art that is too far away for us to reach, that we should dare to grow up and stop playing by the time that others tell us to stop playing. If there is an intelligence in all this, then I suppose it is in the recognition that a work of art is a toy, that it's up to us whether we play with it or not, that certain of these toys, anyway, have endured through the years because they are good playthings, and that some of these playthings come with unwritten rules for how they're meant to be played with, and that not every work of art will work for us.

This, I think, is what makes me uneasy about the contempt with which some people talk about this book. It's the kind of contempt that makes me doubt the intelligence of the contemptuous. What are they laughing at?

We are told that this book is inspired by a lot of things: the Bible, hedonism, Burroughs, -- but it feels like it gets most of its inspiration from something rather more specific: a certain kind of person with a certain set of beliefs. But this person is not someone who came to his views from a rigorous analysis of the factors that actually lead to social harm. He is a generic optimist-crank. He is a kind of 19th-century-feminist. He is a person who believes that people are truly free when they embrace the "authenticity" of their natural impulses, that human sexuality is infinitely modular, that whatever we want we should always strive to get, and that reason is a corruption of the natural order. To be clear, I don't actually think that beliefs like these are things that most people believe or would believe if they thought about it. On the contrary, these beliefs feel like they come from places deep within us, places most of us find it hard to access, so much so that we're often scared to go there and encounter our own deep beliefs.

And yet Heinlein is able to pull all of these beliefs to the surface and bring them into the world of the book, and make you feel, well, not threatened, but something. There is something about them which makes them seem so clear, so reasonable, so utterly authoritative, that they seem to demand our assent in the same way that ice cream or a ski-resort seems to demand our assent.

Maybe this is what makes them scary: that they are so forceful, and make us so comfortable, that they feel like common sense. The paradox of the existentialist is that he is able to dispel, for the moment, any sense that we have that something is wrong, without, for the moment, giving us a sense that anything is right. This is what we find most terrifying about existentialism: that we can't laugh at it, because we can't be certain that what it says isn't right. The existentialist says to us: look around at the world, in its naked horror and total misery, at the ugliness and absurdity of the human condition, and you will see that there can be no meaning for human life beyond what we give it. But we feel as if something is missing -- and for many of us the thing that is missing is the existentialist's own sense of indignation. Where is the existentialist indignation? Why is the existentialist so complacent? Why does the existentialist not see that if life has no meaning, then life has no reason not to be horrible?

This is not to say that I think we should "play with" or "approach" books on the same grounds that we should "play with" toys. Books are not toys, and that is part of the point. Yet if we wish to really understand "how to read," then we must understand how to "play" with books. And if we wish to understand what it is that we are "playing" with, then we must realize that, even in its most serious moments, a book is ultimately a book, a toy, and that to understand a book, it is better to "approach" it in a way that is dictated by the "type" of toy it is, as opposed to the "type" of work of art it pretends to be. Yes, of course we should read it like a "serious" work of art. Yes, of course we should keep an open mind. Yet this is all only true if the book isn't itself pretending to be "serious," to be a "work of art" -- and if it is pretending, then we should realize that, even if it is not a toy, it is pretending to be a toy. And if it is pretending to be a toy, this is no less true when we read it "like a serious work of art" then when we read it "like a toy."

I can't tell you whether you should or shouldn't read this book. But I think you should know what you are getting into, and what you are not getting into. Some people say that this book is a classic. It is a classic the way that "Siddhartha" or "Tropic of Cancer" or "Naked Lunch" or "Naked and the Dead" are classics: it is a classic only if we imagine a whole series of exciting events and situations that may or may not have inspired its creation, in which case we can give it a wholly different sort of value than the book is trying to give itself.

[ninjago-fa-story]

Ninjago FA prequel: Restart Chapter 3: What He's Done

~~~3rd Person PoV~~~

"Hello, stranger, it's me again, Aniela. Sorry for not visiting you yesterday, but my friend Bethany broke her wrist and I had to work an extra shift… But don't worry, I am here now." The woman paced a little closer to the hospital bed, covering the patient's left arm. She carefully sat down on the edge of the matress, running her hand up and down the thin, white blanket. After taking a deep breath, she decided to continue her little speech. "I feel infinitely sorry for you. Whatever happened must have been undeniably painful. I hope you can forgive me for my decision, but there was no other way to save your life. But better this than dead, am I right? I know how much of a change this will be, perhaps even a good heap of trauma, there was just no other option. Though I wish there was, I really do…" Emilia started tearing up after looking at the patient once again. The smaller wounds and scratches have healed up really fast, but some things still will never be the same again. All those tubes and cables aren't really helping the sight, either. "It's been three months since I found you in the park… since you fell from the sky. I wonder what was going on before it all happened, the injuries you were suffering from were clearly not caused by the fall. If you evere need someone to talk to, I am right here to listen." The visitor held her hands up to her chest, giving her a good idea. Her hands were lead around her neck once, just until they reached the hook of a thin metal chain that was hanging down to right about her chest. It was a small rose-golden necklace with a red heart made out of stained glass, a gift given to her from her father right before he has passed away from cancer. It was used as a lucky charm ever since, though the stranger propably needs it more than she does now.

The pendant was carefully placed around the man's neck, Emilia just had to make sure to dodge all the important stuff. Now all she could hope for, is that this was not a useless act of kindness, but actually helping.

---Acronix's PoV---

Darkness. That's all I've been seeing for the past... I don't even know how long I've been here for. I guess the woman who visits me every day said something like 3 months... Is my condition really this bad? I really hoped it wasn't. Though I wasn't able to regain control over my body, no matter how hard I try. The void looks different too. Usually it has a comforting gray tone, but now it was pitch-black and I couldn't see my body, just my astral shape. Unlike everything I ever experienced within this space, that constant and monotoneous ticking of a clock is new. There was no clear source of the sound, it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, but I can tell it's not just all inside of my head. Whatever this is, it slowly makes me go insane. I gotta get out of here! Maybe that merging technique can help, the one my mother taught me when I was little.

Despite the moderate difficulty, I managed to get into a possition that allows me to meditate and focus on nothing but my own body. The Void is a timeless place, though while my soul is trapped here, my body in the outside world keeps its ability to age, though that obviously depends on how much time passes there. Less gravity means less Time-Dilation, and less Dilation means less aging. And in spaces with zero gravity like the Vortex and the Void, including their position outside time and space, aging comes to a halt completely.

My eyes where darting around quickly, my disoriented mind slowly catching up with reality once again. I crossed my legs and streched them out again, over and over again until I found the perfect position. Everything needs to be perfect. Despite my rusted language skills, I somehow managed to get the phrase together perfectly. "Tawana ohala wo. Nakisa nala to." (ng-TW: "Let them merge. Body and Soul.") My astral figure was slowly dissolving into a colorful dust, colors that appeared to have washed out over time, as slowly, the black void turned white and regained shape that resemble the real world.

My vision was still blurry, but i can tell that I was back to consciousness. I felt a rush of electricity run through my entire body, my Elemental Powers. they didn't activate, they just reacted to my living state. For the first time, was able to see Aniela with my own eyes. While I was stuck in the void, her pressence would be announced with a faint pink light. The lady in pink is just as pretty as I imagined her to be judging by her voice. She is probably a little older than me, but that might also just be caused by my slower aging.

Her black hair is worn in a flowing bob, her dress was a certain shade of pink, I assume #de5d83 Blush, my sister's favorite color. The straps and belt were a less certain color, just a normal shade of cyan. But the color complimented her blue eyes quite nicely. just like mine, her skin was tanned, yet ways brighter. Her smile was warm and friendly, pointed right at me. She must be very happy seeing me awake.

It didn't take long for a Doctor to arrive, a face that I was a little to familiar with. It was Liberty, the Elemental Master of Lightning. She has always been one of my closest friends back in the day when the Elemental Alliance still existed. Though it ceased to exist once my brother and I turned our backs. How I wish to have never done that in the first place. I truly do regret everything, but now, things can never be undone. But now that I have the chance to write my future anew, I can finally get rid of what pains me. I can finally let go of my old self. I was kind of relieved to see a familiar face, but the time I am in can not possibly be the future. I am in the past.

Despite my brother's and my initial travel forward, I must have somehow ended up here instead. I know that my father once told me about the living of the Elemental Power of Time, that it will help you if all hope is lost. Maybe this is the safest option. My eyes quickly scanned their surroundings, but except my Battle suit and my father's Pocket Watch, everything seemed brand new. My fathers watch? It was glowing differently than usual, just like my Powers, it reacted to me being awake. Some of it's Power must have been transfered to me back when I was fighting my brother. just like padre said, the Element knows when you are in danger, it saved my life.

My mouth and throat felt dry, the ability to speak was taken away from me. While Libery was gone to get me a glass of water, my mind arrived in reality. I lifted my left arm to wave at Aniela, but the lower arm was missing almost entirely. If I was able to speak, at least now I would be lacking all of it. "There was simply no other way-" I just nodded quietly, I have heard what she was talking about while I was stuck in coma, I may not be mad for her decision, but this naturally came as a shock. Aniela had moved from all across the room all the way to my bed within the matter of a second, holding my weakened body in am embrace I was not expecting. Tears were flowing, the realisation that this was all my so-called brother's fault, what he's done to me… and Freedom. Yes, despite the unspoken hate towards Krux, I was also happy to finally be free. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, the dark tunnel I once called my life. All this was finally over. This is something I don't want to miss out on. 

Aniela and I hat been sitting like this for a while longer, just until the Master of Lightning came back with a glass of still water. Though I was still not able to speak after drinking the entire thing, so it was more than just soreness. "It is completely normal to lose certain abilities after coma, they should come back after a while. You may have to relearn them, though." My hand was lightly stroking my face, the area where my face paint would usually be, now there was nothing. It had become the signature look of Krux and I, but despite this, that never really bothered me. It has even been my own suggestion to add it. Not to hide our identities, but to embrace our roots. Typically Tawali markings, usually worn by hunters and warriors, but they stopped doing these things ages ago, and wore it simply to accessorize. I guess your point of view about some things change if half of your people died in a genocide…

Trailing a bit further down, my hand reached my neck, finding something unfamiliar, appearing to be some sort of necklace. "It's my lucky charm. But it's yours now, it has served me well." My face formed a smile, nobody has ever been this nice to me before, well, with a few rare exceptions.

My body felt incredibly weak, I was barely able to stay awake. This might be caused by al of my injuries, but since most of them have already healed up almost completely, I suggest a weakened state in combination of me having new Elemental Powers, that should go away once I am used to them. Curiousity has struck my mind, I wonder what else I can do with them. But these thoughts faded just as quickly as they appeared, Elemental Powers are not toys, especially not mine. It kind of sucks, to be honest, other Elementals do not carry the burden of an entire Timeline on their backs at all times. But a Keeper of Time's gotta do what a Keeper of Time's has to do.

The five remaining fingers on my right hand formed shapes in the air, I don't know much, but I was quite lucky that the Inventor has taught me Sign Language. Only fingerspelling, but it was better than nothing, especially now that I only have one hand to use. "L-I-B-E-R-T-Y" Just one tiny word and the Doctor was left in shock. "How do you know my name? I never introduced myself..." I asked for pen and paper. reading should work better in this case. We fought together in the Serpentine War. Don't you remember me? I am an old friend of yours. Well, before my brother forced me to turn away and switch sides. I am sorry for what happened, but I had no choice. I promise, one day I can make up to my mistakes. "I am sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about. my name is Liberty, but you must be mixing me up with someone else. And we never had a Serpentine War. We are at good terms with them." You are Liberty Mclaughlin, married to Cliff A. Gordon, Elemental Master of Lightning. You train alongside some other Elemental Masters in the so-called Monastery of Spinjitzu, all of you part of the Elemental Alliance. "Okay, tell me who you are RIGHT NOW!" My name is Adonis Rivera González, Elemental Master of Time. Speaking of it, what is the current date? She was visibly and audibly confused, but still decided to answer my question. "August 29th 10765. Today is a Saturday." I knew exactly what I had to write, despite knowing that she will probably think I am crazy. I am 25 years from the future. And now I know that I am from a different Timeline as well. A timeline, where we once called each other Best Friends.

It only took me a small demonstrations of my powers to make her believe me. I guess it's easier to believe someone with Elemental Powers if you have one yourself. There is still so much that I don't want to talk about though. Simply because I myself haven't really learned how to cope with it. My brother was really about to kill me, and he would have succeeded if it wasn't for my savior, Aniela. I lost my arm because of him, all of my friends, my family. I have lost everything. But now that I am here, I have the chance to start anew, in a place where "I" did not even exist until now, but that's the good thing. Since there is no other me in this timeline, I can do whatever I want without having to fear disrupting the Time-Space-Continuum. I am free to do whatever I want. I AM FINALLY FREE! All these years in fear of my life and now I can finally be free. A feeling that I never expected to experience again. All this torture finally has an end. I have finally reached the end of the tunnel. I remember, not so long ago, I wanted to end it all, all my suffering, but I knew it wouldn't change anything. The will to not give in and the hopes to change my brother's heart had somehow kept me going. Though soon after entering modern time I knew all help was lost and I got back to where I was before, but now… Now that there is nothing to worry about, I can finally see the hope within myself again. One that I once had given up upon alltogether.

It is finally over.

#ninjago #ninjagoau #ninjagofanfiction #legoninjago #ninjagofa #ninjagofearfulassault

[tseneipgam]

You are here to enable the divine purpose of the universe to unfold. That is how important you are!

“I cannot live with myself any longer.” This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind. Then suddenly I became aware of what a peculiar thought it was. “Am I one or two? If I cannot live with myself, there must be two of me: the ‘I’ and the ‘self’ that ‘I’ cannot live with.” “Maybe,” I thought, “only one of them is real.” I was so stunned by this strange realization that my mind stopped. I was fully conscious, but there were no more thoughts.

what everybody was looking for had already happened to me. I understood that the intense pressure of suffering that night must have forced my consciousness to withdraw from its identification with the unhappy and deeply fearful self, which is ultimately a fiction of the mind. This withdrawal must have been so complete that this false, suffering self immediately collapsed, just as if a plug had been pulled out of an inflatable toy. What was left then was my true nature as the ever-present I am: consciousness in its pure state prior to identification with form. 

people would occasionally come up to me and say: “I want what you have. Can you give it to me, or show me how to get it?” And I would say: “You have it already. You just can’t feel it because your mind is making too much noise.”

an as yet a small but fortunately growing minority of spiritual pioneers: people who are reaching a point where they become capable of breaking out of inherited collective mind-patterns that have kept humans in bondage to suffering for eons.

Enlightenment — what is that?

A beggar had been sitting by the side of a road for over thirty years. One day a stranger walked by. “Spare some change?” mumbled the beggar, mechanically holding out his old baseball cap. “I have nothing to give you,” said the stranger. Then he asked: “What’s that you are sitting on?” “Nothing,” replied the beggar. “Just an old box. I have been sitting on it for as long as I can remember.” “Ever looked inside?” asked the stranger. “No,” said the beggar. “What’s the point? There’s nothing in there.” “Have a look inside,” insisted the stranger. The beggar managed to pry open the lid. With astonishment, disbelief, and elation, he saw that the box was filled with gold. I am that stranger who has nothing to give you and who is telling you to look inside. Not inside any box, as in the parable, but somewhere even closer: inside yourself.

“But I am not a beggar,” I can hear you say.

Those who have not found their true wealth, which is the radiant joy of Being and the deep, unshakable peace that comes with it, are beggars, even if they have great material wealth. They are looking outside for scraps of pleasure or fulfillment, for validation, security, or love, while they have a treasure within that not only includes all those things but is infinitely greater than anything the world can offer.

The word enlightenment conjures up the idea of some superhuman accomplishment, and the ego likes to keep it that way, but it is simply your natural state of felt oneness with Being. It is a state of connectedness with something immeasurable and indestructible, something that, almost paradoxically, is essentially you and yet is much greater than you. It is finding your true nature beyond name and form. The inability to feel this connectedness gives rise to the illusion of separation, from yourself and from the world around you. You then perceive yourself, consciously or unconsciously, as an isolated fragment. Fear arises, and conflict within and without becomes the norm. I love the Buddha’s simple definition of enlightenment as “the end of suffering.” There is nothing superhuman in that, is there? Of course, as a definition, it is incomplete. It only tells you what enlightenment is not: no suffering. But what’s left when there is no more suffering? The Buddha is silent on that, and his silence implies that you’ll have to find out for yourself. He uses a negative definition so that the mind cannot make it into something to believe in or into a superhuman accomplishment, a goal that is impossible for you to attain. Despite this precaution, the majority of Buddhists still believe that enlightenment is for the Buddha, not for them, at least not in this lifetime.

The word God has become empty of meaning through thousands of years of misuse. I use it sometimes, but I do so sparingly. By misuse, I mean that people who have never even glimpsed the realm of the sacred, the infinite vastness behind that word, use it with great conviction, as if they knew what they are talking about. Or they argue against it, as if they knew what it is that they are denying. This misuse gives rise to absurd beliefs, assertions, and egoic delusions, such as “My or our God is the only true God, and your God is false,” or Nietzsche’s famous statement “God is dead.” The word God has become a closed concept. The moment the word is uttered, a mental image is created, no longer, perhaps, of an old man with a white beard, but still a mental representation of someone or something outside you, and, yes, almost inevitably a male someone or something. Neither God nor Being nor any other word can define or explain the ineffable reality behind the word, so the only important question is whether the word is a help or a hindrance in enabling you to experience That toward which it points. Does it point beyond itself to that transcendental reality, or does it lend itself too easily to becoming no more than an idea in your head that you believe in, a mental idol? The word Being explains nothing, but nor does God. Being, however, has the advantage that it is an open concept. It does not reduce the infinite invisible to a finite entity. It is impossible to form a mental image of it. Nobody can claim exclusive possession of Being. It is your very essence, and it is immediately accessible to you as the feeling of your own presence, the realization I am that is prior to I am this or I am that. So it is only a small step from the word Being to the experience of Being.

What is the greatest obstacle to experiencing this reality?

Identification with your mind, which causes thought to become compulsive. Not to be able to stop thinking is a dreadful affliction, but we don’t realize this because almost everybody is suffering from it, so it is considered normal. This incessant mental noise prevents you from finding that realm of inner stillness that is inseparable from Being. It also creates a false mind-made self that casts a shadow of fear and suffering. We will look at all that in more detail later. The philosopher Descartes believed that he had found the most fundamental truth when he made his famous statement: “I think, therefore I am.” He had, in fact, given expression to the most basic error: to equate thinking with Being and identity with thinking. The compulsive thinker, which means almost everyone, lives in a state of apparent separateness, in an insanely complex world of continuous problems and conflict, a world that reflects the ever-increasing fragmentation of the mind. Enlightenment is a state of wholeness, of being “at one” and therefore at peace. At one with life in its manifested aspect, the world, as well as with your deepest self and life unmanifested — at one with Being. Enlightenment is not only the end of suffering and of continuous conflict within and without, but also the end of the dreadful enslavement to incessant thinking. What an incredible liberation this is! Identification with your mind creates an opaque screen of concepts, labels, images, words, judgments, and definitions that blocks all true relationship. It comes between you and yourself, between you and your fellow man and woman, between you and nature, between you and God. It is this screen of thought that creates the illusion of separateness, the illusion that there is you and a totally separate “other.” You then forget the essential fact that, underneath the level of physical appearances and separate forms, you are one with all that is. By “forget,” I mean that you can no longer feel this oneness as self-evident reality. You may believe it to be true, but you no longer know it to be true. A belief may be comforting. Only through your own experience, however, does it become liberating.

Thinking has become a disease. Disease happens when things get out of balance. For example, there is nothing wrong with cells dividing and multiplying in the body, but when this process continues in disregard of the total organism, cells proliferate and we have disease.

The mind is a superb instrument if used rightly. Used wrongly, however, it becomes very destructive. To put it more accurately, it is not so much that you use your mind wrongly — you usually don’t use it at all. It uses you. This is the disease. You believe that you are your mind. This is the delusion. The instrument has taken you over.

It is true that I do a lot of aimless thinking, like most people,but I can still choose to use my mind to get and accomplish things, and I do that all the time.

Just because you can solve a crossword puzzle or build an atom bomb doesn’t mean that you use your mind. Just as dogs love to chew bones, the mind loves to get its teeth into problems. That’s why it does crossword puzzles and builds atom bombs. You have no interest in either. Let me ask you this: can you be free of your mind whenever you want to? Have you found the “off” button?

You mean stop thinking altogether? No, I can’t, except maybe for a moment or two.

Then the mind is using you. You are unconsciously identified with it, so you don’t even know that you are its slave. It’s almost as if you were possessed without knowing it, and so you take the possessing entity to be yourself. The beginning of freedom is the realization that you are not the possessing entity — the thinker. Knowing this enables you to observe the entity. The moment you start watching the thinker, a higher level of consciousness becomes activated. You then begin to realize that there is a vast realm of intelligence beyond thought, that thought is only a tiny aspect of that intelligence. You also realize that all the things that truly matter — beauty, love, creativity, joy, inner peace — arise from beyond the mind. You begin to awaken.

What exactly do you mean by “watching the thinker”?

When someone goes to the doctor and says, “I hear a voice in my head,” he or she will most likely be sent to a psychiatrist. The fact is that, in a very similar way, virtually everyone hears a voice, or several voices, in their head all the time: the involuntary thought processes that you don’t realize you have the power to stop. Continuous monologues or dialogues.

You have probably come across “mad” people in the street incessantly talking or muttering to themselves. Well, that’s not much different from what you and all other “normal” people do, except that you don’t do it out loud. The voice comments, speculates, judges, compares, complains, likes, dislikes, and so on. The voice isn’t necessarily relevant to the situation you find yourself in at the time; it may be reviving the recent or distant past or rehearsing or imagining possible future situations. Here it often imagines things going wrong and negative outcomes; this is called worry. Sometimes this soundtrack is accompanied by visual images or “mental movies.” Even if the voice is relevant to the situation at hand, it will interpret it in terms of the past. This is because the voice belongs to your conditioned mind, which is the result of all your past history as well as of the collective cultural mind-set you inherited. So you see and judge the present through the eyes of the past and get a totally distorted view of it. It is not uncommon for the voice to be a person’s own worst enemy. Many people live with a tormentor in their head that continuously attacks and punishes them and drains them of vital energy. It is the cause of untold misery and unhappiness, as well as of disease.

The good news is that you can free yourself from your mind. This is the only true liberation. You can take the first step right now. Start listening to the voice in your head as often as you can. Pay particular attention to any repetitive thought patterns, those old gramophone records that have been playing in your head perhaps for many years. This is what I mean by “watching the thinker,” which is another way of saying: listen to the voice in your head, be there as the witnessing presence.

When you listen to that voice, listen to it impartially. That is to say, do not judge. Do not judge or condemn what you hear, for doing so would mean that the same voice has come in again through the back door. You’ll soon realize: there is the voice, and here I am listening to it, watching it. This I am realization, this sense of your own presence, is not a thought. It arises from beyond the mind.

So when you listen to a thought, you are aware not only of the thought but also of yourself as the witness of the thought. A new dimension of consciousness has come in. As you listen to the thought, you feel a conscious presence — your deeper self — behind or underneath the thought, as it were. The thought then loses its power over you and quickly subsides, because you are no longer energizing the mind through identification with it. This is the beginning of the end of involuntary and compulsive thinking.

When a thought subsides, you experience a discontinuity in the mental stream — a gap of “no-mind.” At first, the gaps will be short, a few seconds perhaps, but gradually they will become longer. When these gaps occur, you feel a certain stillness and peace inside you. This is the beginning of your natural state of felt oneness with Being, which is usually obscured by the mind. With practice, the sense of stillness and peace will deepen. In fact, there is no end to its depth. You will also feel a subtle emanation of joy arising from deep within: the joy of Being.

Instead of “watching the thinker,” you can also create a gap in the mind stream simply by directing the focus of your attention into the Now. Just become intensely conscious of the present moment. This is a deeply satisfying thing to do. In this way, you draw consciousness away from mind activity and create a gap of no-mind in which you are highly alert and aware but not thinking. This is the essence of meditation.

In your everyday life, you can practice this by taking any routine activity that normally is only a means to an end and giving it your fullest attention, so that it becomes an end in itself. For example, every time you walk up and down the stairs in your house or place of work, pay close attention to every step, every movement, even your breathing. Be totally present. Or when you wash your hands, pay attention to all the sense perceptions associated with the activity: the sound and feel of the water, the movement of your hands, the scent of the soap, and so on. Or when you get into your car, after you close the door, pause for a few seconds and observe the flow of your breath. Become aware of a silent but powerful sense of presence. There is one certain criterion by which you can measure your success in this practice: the degree of peace that you feel within.

So the single most vital step on your journey toward enlightenment is this: learn to disidentify from your mind. Every time you create a gap in the stream of mind, the light of your consciousness grows stronger.

One day you may catch yourself smiling at the voice in your head, as you would smile at the antics of a child. This means that you no longer take the content of your mind all that seriously, as your sense of self does not depend on it.

Isn’t thinking essential in order to survive in this world?

Your mind is an instrument, a tool. It is there to be used for a specific task, and when the task is completed, you lay it down. As it is, I would say about 80 to 90 percent of most people’s thinking is not only repetitive and useless, but because of its dysfunctional and often negative nature, much of it is also harmful. Observe your mind and you will find this to be true. It causes a serious leakage of vital energy.

This kind of compulsive thinking is actually an addiction. What characterizes an addiction? Quite simply this: you no longer feel that you have the choice to stop. It seems stronger than you. It also gives you a false sense of pleasure, pleasure that invariably turns into pain.

As you grow up, you form a mental image of who you are, based on your personal and cultural conditioning. We may call this phantom self the ego. It consists of mind activity and can only be kept going through constant thinking. The term ego means different things to different people, but when I use it here it means a false self, created by unconscious identification with the mind.

To the ego, the present moment hardly exists. Only past and future are considered important. This total reversal of the truth accounts for the fact that in the ego mode the mind is so dysfunctional. It is always concerned with keeping the past alive, because without it — who are you? It constantly projects itself into the future to ensure its continued survival and to seek some kind of release or fulfillment there. It says: “One day, when this, that, or the other happens, I am going to be okay, happy, at peace.” Even when the ego seems to be concerned with the present, it is not the present that it sees: It misperceives it completely because it looks at it through the eyes of the past. Or it reduces the present to a means to an end, an end that always lies in the mind-projected future. Observe your mind and you’ll see that this is how it works.

The present moment holds the key to liberation. But you cannot find the present moment as long as you are your mind.

The predominance of mind is no more than a stage in the evolution of consciousness. We need to go on to the next stage now as a matter of urgency; otherwise, we will be destroyed by the mind, which has grown into a monster. I will talk about this in more detail later. Thinking and consciousness are not synonymous. Thinking is only a small aspect of consciousness. Thought cannot exist without consciousness, but consciousness does not need thought.

Enlightenment means rising above thought, not falling back to a level below thought, the level of an animal or a plant. In the enlightened state, you still use your thinking mind when needed, but in a much more focused and effective way than before. You use it mostly for practical purposes, but you are free of the involuntary internal dialogue, and there is inner stillness. When you do use your mind, and particularly when a creative solution is needed, you oscillate every few minutes or so between thought and stillness

It wasn’t through the mind, through thinking, that the miracle that is life on earth or your body was created and is being sustained. There is clearly an intelligence at work that is far greater than the mind. How can a single human cell measuring 1/1,000 of an inch in diameter contain instructions within its DNA that would fill 1,000 books of 600 pages each? The more we learn about the workings of the body, the more we realize just how vast is the intelligence at work within it and how little we know. When the mind reconnects with that, it becomes a most wonderful tool. It then serves something greater than itself.

What about emotions? I get caught up in my emotions more than I do in my mind.

Mind, in the way I use the word, is not just thought. It includes your emotions as well as all unconscious mental-emotional reactive patterns. Emotion arises at the place where mind and body meet. It is the body’s reaction to your mind — or you might say, a reflection of your mind in the body. For example, an attack thought or a hostile thought will create a buildup of energy in the body that we call anger. The body is getting ready to fight. The thought that you are being threatened, physically or psychologically, causes the body to contract, and this is the physical side of what we call fear. Research has shown that strong emotions even cause changes in the biochemistry of the body. These biochemical changes represent the physical or material aspect of the emotion. Of course, you are not usually conscious of all your thought patterns, and it is often only through watching your emotions that you can bring them into awareness.

The more you are identified with your thinking, your likes and dislikes, judgments and interpretations, which is to say the less present you are as the watching consciousness, the stronger the emotional energy charge will be, whether you are aware of it or not. If you cannot feel your emotions, if you are cut off from them, you will eventually experience them on a purely physical level, as a physical problem or symptom. A great deal has been written about this in recent years, so we don’t need to go into it here. A strong unconscious emotional pattern may even manifest as an external event that appears to just happen to you. 

An emotion usually represents an amplified and energized thought pattern, and because of its often overpowering energetic charge, it is not easy initially to stay present enough to be able to watch it. It wants to take you over, and it usually succeeds — unless there is enough presence in you. If you are pulled into unconscious identification with the emotion through lack of presence, which is normal, the emotion temporarily becomes “you.” Often a vicious circle builds up between your thinking and the emotion: they feed each other. The thought pattern creates a magnified reflection of itself in the form of an emotion, and the vibrational frequency of the emotion keeps feeding the original thought pattern. By dwelling mentally on the situation, event, or person that is the perceived cause of the emotion, the thought feeds energy to the emotion, which in turn energizes the thought pattern, and so on.

Basically, all emotions are modifications of one primordial, undifferentiated emotion that has its origin in the loss of awareness of who you are beyond name and form. Because of its undifferentiated nature, it is hard to find a name that precisely describes this emotion. “Fear” comes close, but apart from a continuous sense of threat, it also includes a deep sense of abandonment and incompleteness. It may be best to use a term that is as undifferentiated as that basic emotion and simply call it “pain.” One of the main tasks of the mind is to fight or remove that emotional pain, which is one of the reasons for its incessant activity, but all it can ever achieve is to cover it up temporarily. In fact, the harder the mind struggles to get rid of the pain, the greater the pain. The mind can never find the solution, nor can it afford to allow you to find the solution, because it is itself an intrinsic part of the “problem.” Imagine a chief of police trying to find an arsonist when the arsonist is the chief of police. You will not be free of that pain until you cease to derive your sense of self from identification with the mind, which is to say from ego. The mind is then toppled from its place of power and Being reveals itself as your true nature.

I was going to ask: What about positive emotions such as love and joy?

They are inseparable from your natural state of inner connectedness with Being. Glimpses of love and joy or brief moments of deep peace are possible whenever a gap occurs in the stream of thought. For most people, such gaps happen rarely and only accidentally, in moments when the mind is rendered “speechless,” sometimes triggered by great beauty, extreme physical exertion, or even great danger. Suddenly, there is inner stillness. And within that stillness there is a subtle but intense joy, there is love, there is peace.

Usually, such moments are short-lived, as the mind quickly resumes its noise-making activity that we call thinking. Love, joy, and peace cannot flourish until you have freed yourself from mind dominance. But they are not what I would call emotions. They lie beyond the emotions, on a much deeper level. So you need to become fully conscious of your emotions and be able to feel them before you can feel that which lies beyond them. Emotion literally means “disturbance.” The word comes from the Latin emovere, meaning “to disturb.” Love, joy, and peace are deep states of Being, or rather three aspects of the state of inner connectedness with Being. As such, they have no opposite. This is because they arise from beyond the mind. Emotions, on the other hand, being part of the dualistic mind, are subject to the law of opposites. This simply means that you cannot have good without bad. So in the unenlightened, mind-identified condition, what is sometimes wrongly called joy is the usually short-lived pleasure side of the continuously alternating pain/pleasure cycle. Pleasure is always derived from something outside you, whereas joy arises from within. The very thing that gives you pleasure today will give you pain tomorrow, or it will leave you, so its absence will give you pain. And what is often referred to as love may be pleasurable and exciting for a while, but it is an addictive clinging, an extremely needy condition that can turn into its opposite at the flick of a switch. Many “love” relationships, after the initial euphoria has passed, actually oscillate between “love” and hate, attraction and attack.

Real love doesn’t make you suffer. How could it? It doesn’t suddenly turn into hate, nor does real joy turn into pain. As I said, even before you are enlightened — before you have freed yourself from your mind — you may get glimpses of true joy, true love, or of a deep inner peace, still but vibrantly alive. These are aspects of your true nature, which is usually obscured by the mind. Even within a “normal” addictive relationship, there can be moments when the presence of something more genuine, something incorruptible, can be felt. But they will only be glimpses, soon to be covered up again through mind interference. It may then seem that you had something very precious and lost it, or your mind may convince you that it was all an illusion anyway. The truth is that it wasn’t an illusion, and you cannot lose it. It is part of your natural state, which can be obscured but can never be destroyed by the mind. Even when the sky is heavily overcast, the sun hasn’t disappeared. It’s still there on the other side of the clouds.

The Buddha says that pain or suffering arises through desire or craving and that to be free of pain we need to cut the bonds of desire.

All cravings are the mind seeking salvation or fulfillment in external things and in the future as a substitute for the joy of Being. As long as I am my mind, I am those cravings, those needs, wants, attachments, and aversions, and apart from them there is no “I” except as a mere possibility, an unfulfilled potential, a seed that has not yet sprouted. In that state, even my desire to become free or enlightened is just another craving for fulfillment or completion in the future. So don’t seek to become free of desire or “achieve” enlightenment. Become present. Be there as the observer of the mind. Instead of quoting the Buddha, be the Buddha, be “the awakened one,” which is what the word buddha means.

Humans have been in the grip of pain for eons, ever since they fell from the state of grace, entered the realm of time and mind, and lost awareness of Being. At that point, they started to perceive themselves as meaningless fragments in an alien universe, unconnected to the Source and to each other.

Pain is inevitable as long as you are identified with your mind, which is to say as long as you are unconscious, spiritually speaking. I am talking here primarily of emotional pain, which is also the main cause of physical pain and physical disease. Resentment, hatred, self-pity, guilt, anger, depression, jealousy, and so on, even the slightest irritation, are all forms of pain. And every pleasure or emotional high contains within itself the seed of pain: its inseparable opposite, which will manifest in time.

Anybody who has ever taken drugs to get “high” will know that the high eventually turns into a low, that the pleasure turns into some form of pain. Many people also know from their own experience how easily and quickly an intimate relationship can turn from a source of pleasure to a source of pain. Seen from a higher perspective, both the negative and the positive polarities are faces of the same coin, are both part of the underlying pain that is inseparable from the mind- identified egoic state of consciousness.

There are two levels to your pain: the pain that you create now, and the pain from the past that still lives on in your mind and body.

The pain that you create now is always some form of nonacceptance, some form of unconscious resistance to what is. On the level of thought, the resistance is some form of judgment. On the emotional level, it is some form of negativity. The intensity of the pain depends on the degree of resistance to the present moment, and this in turn depends on how strongly you are identified with your mind. The mind always seeks to deny the Now and to escape from it. In other words, the more you are identified with your mind, the more you suffer. Or you may put it like this: the more you are able to honor and accept the Now, the more you are free of pain, of suffering — and free of the egoic mind.

Why does the mind habitually deny or resist the Now? Because it cannot function and remain in control without time, which is past and future, so it perceives the timeless Now as threatening. Time and mind are in fact inseparable.

Imagine the Earth devoid of human life, inhabited only by plants and animals. Would it still have a past and a future? Could we still speak of time in any meaningful way? The question “What time is it?” or “What’s the date today?” — if anybody were there to ask it — would be quite meaningless. The oak tree or the eagle would be bemused by such a question. “What time?” they would ask.

“Well, of course, it’s now. The time is now. What else is there?”

Yes, we need the mind as well as time to function in this world, but there comes a point where they take over our lives, and this is where dysfunction, pain, and sorrow set in.

If you no longer want to create pain for yourself and others, if you no longer want to add to the residue of past pain that still lives on in you, then don’t create any more time, or at least no more than is necessary to deal with the practical aspects of your life. How to stop creating time? Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have. Make the Now the primary focus of your life. Whereas before you dwelt in time and paid brief visits to the Now, have your dwelling place in the Now and pay brief visits to past and future when required to deal with the practical aspects of your life situation. Always say “yes” to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to something that already is? What could be more insane than to oppose life itself, which is now and always now? Surrender to what is. Say “yes” to life — and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you.

The present moment is sometimes unacceptable, unpleasant, or awful.

It is as it is. Observe how the mind labels it and how this labeling process, this continuous sitting in judgment, creates pain and unhappiness. By watching the mechanics of the mind, you step out of its resistance patterns, and you can then allow the present moment to be. This will give you a taste of the state of inner freedom from external conditions, the state of true inner peace. Then see what happens, and take action if necessary or possible.

Accept — then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it. Make it your friend and ally, not your enemy. This will miraculously transform your whole life.

Once you have understood the basic principle of being present as the watcher of what happens inside you — and you “understand” it by experiencing it — you have at your disposal the most potent transformational tool.

This is not to deny that you may encounter intense inner resistance to disidentifying from your pain. This will be the case particularly if you have lived closely identified with your emotional pain-body for most of your life and the whole or a large part of your sense of self is invested in it. What this means is that you have made an unhappy self out of your pain-body and believe that this mind-made fiction is who you are. In that case, unconscious fear of losing your identity will create strong resistance to any disidentification. In other words, you would rather be in pain — be the pain-body — than take a leap into the unknown and risk losing the familiar unhappy self.

If this applies to you, observe the resistance within yourself. Observe the attachment to your pain. Be very alert. Observe the peculiar pleasure you derive from being unhappy. Observe the compulsion to talk or think about it. The resistance will cease if you make it conscious. You can then take your attention into the pain-body, stay present as the witness, and so initiate its transmutation.

Only you can do this. Nobody can do it for you. But if you are fortunate enough to find someone who is intensely conscious, if you can be with them and join them in the state of presence, that can be helpful and will accelerate things. In this way, your own light will quickly grow stronger. When a log that has only just started to burn is placed next to one that is burning fiercely, and after a while they are separated again, the first log will be burning with much greater intensity. After all, it is the same fire.

You mentioned fear as being part of our basic underlying emotional pain. How does fear arise, and why is there so much of it in people’s lives? And isn’t a certain amount of fear just healthy self-protection? If I didn’t have a fear of fire, I might put my hand in it and get burned.

The reason why you don’t put your hand in the fire is not because of fear, it’s because you know that you’ll get burned. You don’t need fear to avoid unnecessary danger — just a minimum of intelligence and common sense. For such practical matters, it is useful to apply the lessons learned in the past. Now if someone threatened you with fire or with physical violence, you might experience something like fear. This is an instinctive shrinking back from danger, but not the psychological condition of fear that we are talking about here. The psychological condition of fear is divorced from any concrete and true immediate danger. It comes in many forms: unease, worry, anxiety, nervousness, tension, dread, phobia, and so on. This kind of psychological fear is always of something that might happen, not of something that is happening now. You are in the here and now, while your mind is in the future. This creates an anxiety gap. And if you are identified with your mind and have lost touch with the power and simplicity of the Now, that anxiety gap will be your constant companion. You can always cope with the present moment, but you cannot cope with something that is only a mind projection — you cannot cope with the future.

Fear seems to have many causes. Fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of being hurt, and so on, but ultimately all fear is the ego’s fear of death, of annihilation. To the ego, death is always just around the corner. In this mind-identified state, fear of death affects every aspect of your life. For example, even such a seemingly trivial and “normal” thing as the compulsive need to be right in an argument and make the other person wrong — defending the mental position with which you have identified — is due to the fear of death. If you identify with a mental position, then if you are wrong, your mind-based sense of self is seriously threatened with annihilation. So you as the ego cannot afford to be wrong. To be wrong is to die. Wars have been fought over this, and countless relationships have broken down.

Once you have disidentified from your mind, whether you are right or wrong makes no difference to your sense of self at all, so the forcefully compulsive and deeply unconscious need to be right, which is a form of violence, will no longer be there. You can state clearly and firmly how you feel or what you think, but there will be no aggressiveness or defensiveness about it. Your sense of self is then derived from a deeper and truer place within yourself, not from the mind. Watch out for any kind of defensiveness within yourself. What are you defending? An illusory identity, an image in your mind, a fictitious entity. By making this pattern conscious, by witnessing it, you disidentify from it. In the light of your consciousness, the unconscious pattern will then quickly dissolve. This is the end of all arguments and power games, which are so corrosive to relationships. Power over others is weakness disguised as strength. True power is within, and it is available to you now.

The number of people who have gone beyond mind is as yet extremely small, so you can assume that virtually everyone you meet or know lives in a state of fear. Only the intensity of it varies. It fluctuates between anxiety and dread at one end of the scale and a vague unease and distant sense of threat at the other. Most people become conscious of it only when it takes on one of its more acute forms.

Another aspect of the emotional pain that is an intrinsic part of the egoic mind is a deep-seated sense of lack or incompleteness, of not being whole. In some people, this is conscious, in others unconscious. If it is conscious, it manifests as the unsettling and constant feeling of not being worthy or good enough. If it is unconscious, it will only be felt indirectly as an intense craving, wanting and needing. In either case, people will often enter into a compulsive pursuit of ego- gratification and things to identify with in order to fill this hole they feel within. So they strive after possessions, money, success, power, recognition, or a special relationship, basically so that they can feel better about themselves, feel more complete. But even when they attain all these things, they soon find that the hole is still there, that it is bottomless. Then they are really in trouble, because they cannot delude themselves anymore. Well, they can and do, but it gets more difficult.

 The most common ego identifications have to do with possessions, the work you do, social status and recognition, knowledge and education, physical appearance, special abilities, relationships, personal and family history, belief systems, and often also political, nationalistic, racial, religious, and other collective identifications. None of these is you.

Do you find this frightening? Or is it a relief to know this? All of these things you will have to relinquish sooner or later. Perhaps you find it as yet hard to believe, and I am certainly not asking you to believe that your identity cannot be found in any of those things. You will know the truth of it for yourself. You will know it at the latest when you feel death approaching. Death is a stripping away of all that is not you. The secret of life is to “die before you die” — and find that there is no death.

The problems of the mind cannot be solved on the level of the mind. Once you have understood the basic dysfunction, there isn’t really much else that you need to learn or understand. Studying the complexities of the mind may make you a good psychologist, but doing so won’t take you beyond the mind, just as the study of madness isn’t enough to create sanity. You have already understood the basic mechanics of the unconscious state: identification with the mind, which creates a false self, the ego, as a substitute for your true self rooted in Being. You become as a “branch cut off from the vine,” as Jesus puts it.

The ego’s needs are endless. It feels vulnerable and threatened and so lives in a state of fear and want. Once you know how the basic dysfunction operates, there is no need to explore all its countless manifestations, no need to make it into a complex personal problem. The ego, of course, loves that. It is always seeking for something to attach itself to in order to uphold and strengthen its illusory sense of self, and it will readily attach itself to your problems. This is why, for so many people, a large part of their sense of self is intimately connected with their problems. Once this has happened, the last thing they want is to become free of them; that would mean loss of self. There can be a great deal of unconscious ego investment in pain and suffering.

So once you recognize the root of unconsciousness as identification with the mind, which of course includes the emotions, you step out of it. You become present. When you are present, you can allow the mind to be as it is without getting entangled in it. The mind in itself is not dysfunctional. It is a wonderful tool. Dysfunction sets in when you seek your self in it and mistake it for who you are. It then becomes the egoic mind and takes over your whole life.

To be identified with your mind is to be trapped in time: the compulsion to live almost exclusively through memory and anticipation. This creates an endless preoccupation with past and future and an unwillingness to honor and acknowledge the present moment and allow it to be. The compulsion arises because the past gives you an identity and the future holds the promise of salvation, of fulfillment in whatever form. Both are illusions.

Have you ever experienced, done, thought, or felt anything outside the Now? Do you think you ever will? Is it possible for anything to happen or be outside the Now? The answer is obvious, is it not?

Nothing ever happened in the past; it happened in the Now.

Nothing will ever happen in the future; it will happen in the Now.

What you think of as the past is a memory trace, stored in the mind, of a former Now. When you remember the past, you reactivate a memory trace — and you do so now. The future is an imagined Now, a projection of the mind. When the future comes, it comes as the Now. When you think about the future, you do it now. Past and future obviously have no reality of their own. Just as the moon has no light of its own, but can only reflect the light of the sun, so are past and future only pale reflections of the light, power, and reality of the eternal present. Their reality is “borrowed” from the Now.

The essence of what I am saying here cannot be understood by the mind. The moment you grasp it, there is a shift in consciousness from mind to Being, from time to presence. Suddenly, everything feels alive, radiates energy, emanates Being.

The reason why some people love to engage in dangerous activities, such as mountain climbing, car racing, and so on, although they may not be aware of it, is that it forces them into the Now — that intensely alive state that is free of time, free of problems, free of thinking, free of the burden of the personality. Slipping away from the present moment even for a second may mean death. Unfortunately, they come to depend on a particular activity to be in that state. But you don’t need to climb the north face of the Eiger. You can enter that state now.

Since ancient times, spiritual masters of all traditions have pointed to the Now as the key to the spiritual dimension. Despite this, it seems to have remained a secret. It is certainly not taught in churches and temples. If you go to a church, you may hear readings from the Gospels such as “Take no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself,” or “Nobody who puts his hands to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.” Or you might hear the passage about the beautiful flowers that are not anxious about tomorrow but live with ease in the timeless Now and are provided for abundantly by God. The depth and radical nature of these teachings are not recognized. No one seems to realize that they are meant to be lived and so bring about a profound inner transformation. The whole essence of Zen consists in walking along the razor’s edge of now. 

Make it your practice to withdraw attention from past and future whenever they are not needed. Step out of the time dimension as much as possible in everyday life. If you find it hard to enter the Now directly, start by observing the habitual tendency of your mind to want to escape from the Now. You will observe that the future is usually imagined as either better or worse than the present. If the imagined future is better, it gives you hope or pleasurable anticipation. If it is worse, it creates anxiety. Both are illusory. Through self- observation, more presence comes into your life automatically. The moment you realize you are not present, you are present. Whenever you are able to observe your mind, you are no longer trapped in it. Another factor has come in, something that is not of the mind: the witnessing presence.

Be present as the watcher of your mind — of your thoughts and emotions as well as your reactions in various situations. Be at least as interested in your reactions as in the situation or person that causes you to react. Notice also how often your attention is in the past or future. Don’t judge or analyze what you observe. Watch the thought, feel the emotion, observe the reaction. Don’t make a personal problem out of them. You will then feel something more powerful than any of those things that you observe: the still, observing presence itself behind the content of your mind, the silent watcher.

Clock time is not just making an appointment or planning a trip. It includes learning from the past so that we don’t repeat the same mistakes over and over. Setting goals and working toward them. Predicting the future by means of patterns and laws, physical, mathematical and so on, learned from the past and taking appropriate action on the basis of our predictions. But even here, within the sphere of practical living, where we cannot do without reference to past and future, the present moment remains the essential factor: Any lesson from the past becomes relevant and is applied now. Any planning as well as working toward achieving a particular goal is done now.

The enlightened person’s main focus of attention is always the Now, but they are still peripherally aware of time. In other words, they continue to use clock time but are free of psychological time. Be alert as you practice this so that you do not unwittingly transform clock time into psychological time. For example, if you made a mistake in the past and learn from it now, you are using clock time. On the other hand, if you dwell on it mentally, and self-criticism, remorse, or guilt come up, then you are making the mistake into “me” and “mine”: You make it part of your sense of self, and it has become psychological time, which is always linked to a false sense of identity. 

You will not have any doubt that psychological time is a mental disease if you look at its collective manifestations. They occur, for example, in the form of ideologies such as communism, national socialism or any nationalism, or rigid religious belief systems, which operate under the implicit assumption that the highest good lies in the future and that therefore the end justifies the means. The end is an idea, a point in the mind-projected future, when salvation in whatever form — happiness, fulfillment, equality, liberation, and so on — will be attained. Not infrequently, the means of getting there are the enslavement, torture, and murder of people in the present.

How does this mind pattern operate in your life? Are you always trying to get somewhere other than where you are? Is most of your doing just a means to an end? Is fulfillment always just around the corner or confined to short-lived pleasures, such as sex, food, drink, drugs, or thrills and excitement? Are you always focused on becoming, achieving, and attaining, or alternatively chasing some new thrill or pleasure? Do you believe that if you acquire more things you will become more fulfilled, good enough, or psychologically complete? Are you waiting for a man or woman to give meaning to your life? In the normal, mind-identified or unenlightened state of consciousness, the power and infinite creative potential that lie concealed in the Now are completely obscured by psychological time. Your life then loses its vibrancy, its freshness, its sense of wonder. The old patterns of thought, emotion, behavior, reaction, and desire are acted out in endless repeat performances, a script in your mind that gives you an identity of sorts but distorts or covers up the reality of the Now. The mind then creates an obsession with the future as an escape from the unsatisfactory present.

But the belief that the future will be better than the present is not always an illusion. The present can be dreadful, and things can get better in the future, and often they do.

Usually, the future is a replica of the past. Superficial changes are possible, but real transformation is rare and depends upon whether you can become present enough to dissolve the past by accessing the power of the Now. What you perceive as future is an intrinsic part of your state of consciousness now. If your mind carries a heavy burden of past, you will experience more of the same. The past perpetuates itself through lack of presence. The quality of your consciousness at this moment is what shapes the future — which, of course, can only be experienced as the Now. You may win ten million dollars, but that kind of change is no more than skin deep. You would simply continue to act out the same conditioned patterns in more luxurious surroundings. Humans have learned to split the atom. Instead of killing ten or twenty people with a wooden club, one person can now kill a million just by pushing a button. Is that real change? If it is the quality of your consciousness at this moment that determines the future, then what is it that determines the quality of your consciousness? Your degree of presence. So the only place where true change can occur and where the past can be dissolved is the Now.

All negativity is caused by an accumulation of psychological time and denial of the present. Unease, anxiety, tension, stress, worry — all forms of fear — are caused by too much future, and not enough presence. Guilt, regret, resentment, grievances, sadness, bitterness, and all forms of nonforgiveness are caused by too much past, and not enough presence. Most people find it difficult to believe that a state of consciousness totally free of all negativity is possible. And yet this is the liberated state to which all spiritual teachings point. It is the promise of salvation, not in an illusory future but right here and now. You may find it hard to recognize that time is the cause of your suffering or your problems. You believe that they are caused by specific situations in your life, and seen from a conventional viewpoint, this is true. But until you have dealt with the basic problem-making dysfunction of the mind — its attachment to past and future and denial of the Now — problems are actually interchangeable. If all your problems or perceived causes of suffering or unhappiness were miraculously removed for you today, but you had not become more present, more conscious, you would soon find yourself with a similar set of problems or causes of suffering, like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. Ultimately, there is only one problem: the time-bound mind itself.

I don’t see how I can be free now. As it happens, I am extremely unhappy with my life at the moment. This is a fact, and I would be deluding myself if I tried to convince myself that all is well when it definitely isn’t. To me, the present moment is very unhappy; it is not liberating at all. What keeps me going is the hope or possibility of some improvement in the future.

You think that your attention is in the present moment when it’s actually taken up completely by time. You cannot be both unhappy and fully present in the Now.

What you refer to as your “life” should more accurately be called your “life situation.” It is psychological time: past and future. Certain things in the past didn’t go the way you wanted them to go. You are still resisting what happened in the past, and now you are resisting what is. Hope is what keeps you going, but hope keeps you focused on the future, and this continued focus perpetuates your denial of the Now and therefore your unhappiness.

When you are full of problems, there is no room for anything new to enter, no room for a solution. So whenever you can, make some room, create some space, so that you find the life underneath your life situation.

Use your senses fully. Be where you are. Look around. Just look, don’t interpret. See the light, shapes, colors, textures. Be aware of the silent presence of each thing. Be aware of the space that allows everything to be. Listen to the sounds; don’t judge them. Listen to the silence underneath the sounds. Touch something — anything — and feel and acknowledge its Being. Observe the rhythm of your breathing; feel the air flowing in and out, feel the life energy inside your body. Allow everything to be, within and without. Allow the “isness” of all things. Move deeply into the Now.

You are leaving behind the deadening world of mental abstraction, of time. You are getting out of the insane mind that is draining you of life energy, just as it is slowly poisoning and destroying the Earth. You are awakening out of the dream of time into the present.

If you found yourself in paradise, it wouldn’t be long before your mind would say “yes, but. . . .” Ultimately, this is not about solving your problems. It’s about realizing that there are no problems. Only situations — to be dealt with now, or to be left alone and accepted as part of the “isness” of the present moment until they change or can be dealt with. Problems are mind-made and need time to survive. They cannot survive in the actuality of the Now.

A situation that needs to be either dealt with or accepted — yes. Why make it into a problem? Why make anything into a problem? Isn’t life challenging enough as it is? What do you need problems for? The mind unconsciously loves problems because they give you an identity of sorts. This is normal, and it is insane. “Problem” means that you are dwelling on a situation mentally without there being a true intention or possibility of taking action now and that you are unconsciously making it part of your sense of self. You become so overwhelmed by your life situation that you lose your sense of life, of Being. Or you are carrying in your mind the insane burden of a hundred things that you will or may have to do in the future instead of focusing your attention on the one thing that you can do now.

When you create a problem, you create pain. All it takes is a simple choice, a simple decision: no matter what happens, I will create no more pain for myself. I will create no more problems. Although it is a simple choice, it is also very radical. You won’t make that choice unless you are truly fed up with suffering, unless you have truly had enough. And you won’t be able to go through with it unless you access the power of the Now. If you create no more pain for yourself, then you create no more pain for others. You also no longer contaminate the beautiful Earth, your inner space, and the collective human psyche with the negativity of problem-making.

If you have ever been in a life-or-death emergency situation, you will know that it wasn’t a problem. The mind didn’t have time to fool around and make it into a problem. In a true emergency, the mind stops; you become totally present in the Now, and something infinitely more powerful takes over. This is why there are many reports of ordinary people suddenly becoming capable of incredibly courageous deeds. In any emergency, either you survive or you don’t. Either way, it is not a problem.

Some people get angry when they hear me say that problems are illusions. I am threatening to take away their sense of who they are. They have invested much time in a false sense of self. For many years, they have unconsciously defined their whole identity in terms of their problems or their suffering. Who would they be without it?

A great deal of what people say, think, or do is actually motivated by fear, which of course is always linked with having your focus on the future and being out of touch with the Now. As there are no problems in the Now, there is no fear either. Should a situation arise that you need to deal with now, your action will be clear and incisive if it arises out of present-moment awareness. It is also more likely to be effective. It will not be a reaction coming from the past conditioning of your mind but an intuitive response to the situation. In other instances, when the time- bound mind would have reacted, you will find it more effective to do nothing — just stay centered in the Now.

I have had glimpses of this state of freedom from mind and time that you describe, but past and future are so overwhelmingly strong that I cannot keep them out for long. The time-bound mode of consciousness is deeply embedded in the human psyche. But what we are doing here is part of a profound transformation that is taking place in the collective consciousness of the planet and beyond: the awakening of consciousness from the dream of matter, form, and separation. The ending of time. We are breaking mind patterns that have dominated human life for eons. Mind patterns that have created unimaginable suffering on a vast scale. I am not using the word evil. It is more helpful to call it unconsciousness or insanity.

To alert you that you have allowed yourself to be taken over by psychological time, you can use a simple criterion. Ask yourself: Is there joy, ease, and lightness in what I am doing? If there isn’t, then time is covering up the present moment, and life is perceived as a burden or a struggle. If there is no joy, ease, or lightness in what you are doing, it does not necessarily mean that you need to change what you are doing. It may be sufficient to change the how. “How” is always more important than “what.” See if you can give much more attention to the doing than to the result that you want to achieve through it. Give your fullest attention to whatever the moment presents. This implies that you also completely accept what is, because you cannot give your full attention to something and at the same time resist it.

So do not be concerned with the fruit of your action — just give attention to the action itself. The fruit will come of its own accord. This is a powerful spiritual practice. In the Bhagavad Gita, one of the oldest and most beautiful spiritual teachings in existence, nonattachment to the fruit of your action is called Karma Yoga. It is described as the path of “consecrated action.”

When the compulsive striving away from the Now ceases, the joy of Being flows into everything you do. The moment your attention turns to the Now, you feel a presence, a stillness, a peace. You no longer depend on the future for fulfillment and satisfaction — you don’t look to it for salvation. Therefore, you are not attached to the results. Neither failure nor success has the power to change your inner state of Being. You have found the life underneath your life situation.

In the absence of psychological time, your sense of self is derived from Being, not from your personal past. Therefore, the psychological need to become anything other than who you are already is no longer there. In the world, on the level of your life situation, you may indeed become wealthy, knowledgeable, successful, free of this or that, but in the deeper dimension of Being you are complete and whole now.

In that state of wholeness, would we still be able or willing to pursue external goals?

Of course, but you will not have illusory expectations that anything or anybody in the future will save you or make you happy. As far as your life situation is concerned, there may be things to be attained or acquired. That’s the world of form, of gain and loss. Yet on a deeper level you are already complete, and when you realize that, there is a playful, joyous energy behind what you do. Being free of psychological time, you no longer pursue your goals with grim determination, driven by fear, anger, discontent, or the need to become someone. Nor will you remain inactive through fear of failure, which to the ego is loss of self. When your deeper sense of self is derived from Being, when you are free of “becoming” as a psychological need, neither your happiness nor your sense of self depends on the outcome, and so there is freedom from fear. You don’t seek permanency where it cannot be found: in the world of form, of gain and loss, birth and death. You don’t demand that situations, conditions, places, or people should make you happy, and then suffer when they don’t live up to your expectations.

Everything is honored, but nothing matters. Forms are born and die, yet you are aware of the eternal underneath the forms. You know that “nothing real can be threatened.” When this is your state of Being, how can you not succeed? You have succeeded already.

But I still have to pay the bills tomorrow, and I am still going to grow old and die just like everybody else. So how can I ever say that I am free of time?

Tomorrow’s bills are not the problem. The dissolution of the physical body is not a problem. Loss of Now is the problem, or rather: the core delusion that turns a mere situation, event, or emotion into a personal problem and into suffering. Loss of Now is loss of Being.

To be free of time is to be free of the psychological need of past for your identity and future for your fulfillment. It represents the most profound transformation of consciousness that you can imagine. In some rare cases, this shift in consciousness happens dramatically and radically, once and for all. When it does, it usually comes about through total surrender in the midst of intense suffering. Most people, however, have to work at it.

When you have had your first few glimpses of the timeless state of consciousness, you begin to move back and forth between the dimensions of time and presence. First you become aware of just how rarely your attention is truly in the Now. But to know that you are not present is a great success: That knowing is presence — even if initially it only lasts for a couple of seconds of clock time before it is lost again. Then, with increasing frequency, you choose to have the focus of your consciousness in the present moment rather than in the past or future, and whenever you realize that you had lost the Now, you are able to stay in it not just for a couple of seconds, but for longer periods as perceived from the external perspective of clock time. So before you are firmly established in the state of presence, which is to say before you are fully conscious, you shift back and forth for a while between consciousness and unconsciousness, between the state of presence and the state of mind identification. You lose the Now, and you return to it, again and again. Eventually, presence becomes your predominant state.

For most people, presence is experienced either never at all or only accidentally and briefly on rare occasions without being recognized for what it is. Most humans alternate not between consciousness and unconsciousness but only between different levels of unconsciousness.

What I call ordinary unconsciousness means being identified with your thought processes and emotions, your reactions, desires, and aversions. It is most people’s normal state. In that state, you are run by the egoic mind, and you are unaware of Being. It is a state not of acute pain or unhappiness but of an almost continuous low level of unease, discontent, boredom, or nervousness — a kind of background static. You may not realize this because it is so much a part of “normal” living, just as you are not aware of a continuous low background noise, such as the hum of an air conditioner, until it stops. When it suddenly does stop, there is a sense of relief. Many people use alcohol, drugs, sex, food, work, television, or even shopping as anaesthetics in an unconscious attempt to remove the basic unease. When this happens, an activity that might be very enjoyable if used in moderation becomes imbued with a compulsive or addictive quality, and all that is ever achieved through it is extremely short-lived symptom relief. The unease of ordinary unconsciousness turns into the pain of deep unconsciousness — a state of more acute and more obvious suffering or unhappiness — when things “go wrong,” when the ego is threatened or there is a major challenge, threat, or loss, real or imagined, in your life situation or conflict in a relationship. It is an intensified version of ordinary unconsciousness, different from it not in kind but in degree.

The best indicator of your level of consciousness is how you deal with life’s challenges when they come. Through those challenges, an already unconscious person tends to become more deeply unconscious, and a conscious person more intensely conscious. You can use a challenge to awaken you, or you can allow it to pull you into even deeper sleep. The dream of ordinary unconsciousness then turns into a nightmare.

If you cannot be present even in normal circumstances, such as when you are sitting alone in a room, walking in the woods, or listening to someone, then you certainly won’t be able to stay conscious when something “goes wrong” or you are faced with difficult people or situations, with loss or the threat of loss. You will be taken over by a reaction, which ultimately is always some form of fear, and pulled into deep unconsciousness. Those challenges are your tests. Only the way in which you deal with them will show you and others where you are at as far as your state of consciousness is concerned, not how long you can sit with your eyes closed or what visions you see.

So it is essential to bring more consciousness into your life in ordinary situations when everything is going relatively smoothly. In this way, you grow in presence power. It generates an energy field in you and around you of a high vibrational frequency. No unconsciousness, no negativity, no discord or violence can enter that field and survive, just as darkness cannot survive in the presence of light.

When you learn to be the witness of your thoughts and emotions, which is an essential part of being present, you may be surprised when you first become aware of the background “static” of ordinary unconsciousness and realize how rarely, if ever, you are truly at ease within yourself. On the level of your thinking, you will find a great deal of resistance in the form of judgment, discontent, and mental projection away from the Now. On the emotional level, there will be an undercurrent of unease, tension, boredom, or nervousness. Both are aspects of the mind in its habitual resistance mode.

Carl Jung tells in one of his books of a conversation he had with a Native American chief who pointed out to him that in his perception most white people have tense faces, staring eyes, and a cruel demeanor. He said: “They are always seeking something. What are they seeking? The whites always want something. They are always uneasy and restless. We don’t know what they want. We think they are mad.”

The undercurrent of constant unease started long before the rise of Western industrial civilization, of course, but in Western civilization, which now covers almost the entire globe, including most of the East, it manifests in an unprecedentedly acute form. It was already there at the time of Jesus, and it was there six hundred years before that at the time of Buddha, and long before that. Why are you always anxious? Jesus asked his disciples. “Can anxious thought add a single day to your life?” And the Buddha taught that the root of suffering is to be found in our constant wanting and craving.

Direct your attention inward. Have a look inside yourself. What kind of thoughts is your mind producing? What do you feel? Direct your attention into the body. Is there any tension? Once you detect that there is a low level of unease, the background static, see in what way you are avoiding, resisting, or denying life — by denying the Now. There are many ways in which people unconsciously resist the present moment...

Do you resent doing what you are doing? It may be your job, or you may have agreed to do something and are doing it, but part of you resents and resists it. Are you carrying unspoken resentment toward a person close to you? Do you realize that the energy you thus emanate is so harmful in its effects that you are in fact contaminating yourself as well as those around you? Have a good look inside. Is there even the slightest trace of resentment, unwillingness? If there is, observe it on both the mental and the emotional levels. What thoughts is your mind creating around this situation? Then look at the emotion, which is the body’s reaction to those thoughts. Feel the emotion. Does it feel pleasant or unpleasant? Is it an energy that you would actually choose to have inside you? Do you have a choice?

Maybe you are being taken advantage of, maybe the activity you are engaged in is tedious, maybe someone close to you is dishonest, irritating, or unconscious, but all this is irrelevant. Whether your thoughts and emotions about this situation are justified or not makes no difference. The fact is that you are resisting what is. You are making the present moment into an enemy. You are creating unhappiness, conflict between the inner and the outer. Your unhappiness is polluting not only your own inner being and those around you but also the collective human psyche of which you are an inseparable part. The pollution of the planet is only an outward reflection of an inner psychic pollution: millions of unconscious individuals not taking responsibility for their inner space. Either stop doing what you are doing, speak to the person concerned and express fully what you feel, or drop the negativity that your mind has created around the situation and that serves no purpose whatsoever except to strengthen a false sense of self. Recognizing its futility is important. Negativity is never the optimum way of dealing with any situation. In fact, in most cases it keeps you stuck in it, blocking real change. Anything that is done with negative energy will become contaminated by it and in time give rise to more pain, more unhappiness. Furthermore, any negative inner state is contagious: Unhappiness spreads more easily than a physical disease. Through the law of resonance, it triggers and feeds latent negativity in others, unless they are immune — that is, highly conscious. Are you polluting the world or cleaning up the mess? You are responsible for your inner space; nobody else is, just as you are responsible for the planet. As within, so without: If humans clear inner pollution, then they will also cease to create outer pollution.

But if you call some emotions negative, aren’t you really saying that they shouldn’t be there, that it’s not okay to have those emotions? My understanding is that we should give ourselves permission to have whatever feelings come up, rather than judge them as bad or say that we shouldn’t have them. It’s okay to feel resentful; it’s okay to be angry, irritated, moody, or whatever — otherwise, we get into repression, inner conflict, or denial. Everything is okay as it is.

Of course. Once a mind pattern, an emotion, or a reaction is there, accept it. You were not conscious enough to have a choice in the matter. That’s not a judgment, just a fact. If you had a choice, or realized that you do have a choice, would you choose suffering or joy, ease or unease, peace or conflict? Would you choose a thought or feeling that cuts you off from your natural state of well-being, the joy of life within? Any such feeling I call negative, which simply means bad. Not in the sense that “You shouldn’t have done that,” but just plain factual bad, like feeling sick in the stomach.

How is it possible that humans killed in excess of one hundred million fellow humans in the twentieth century alone?4 Humans inflicting pain of such magnitude on one another is beyond anything you can imagine. And that’s not taking into account the mental, emotional and physical violence, the torture, pain, and cruelty they continue to inflict on each other as well as on other sentient beings on a daily basis.

Do they act in this way because they are in touch with their natural state, the joy of life within? Of course not. Only people who are in a deeply negative state, who feel very bad indeed, would create such a reality as a reflection of how they

feel. Now they are engaged in destroying nature and the planet that sustains them. Unbelievable but true. Humans are a dangerously insane and very sick species. That’s not a judgment. It’s a fact. It is also a fact that the sanity is there underneath the madness. Healing and redemption are available right now.

Coming back specifically to what you said — it is certainly true that when you accept your resentment, moodiness, anger, and so on, you are no longer forced to act them out blindly, and you are less likely to project them onto others. But I wonder if you are not deceiving yourself. When you have been practicing acceptance for a while, as you have, there comes a point when you need to go on to the next stage, where those negative emotions are not created anymore. If you don’t, your “acceptance” just becomes a mental label that allows your ego to continue to indulge in unhappiness and so strengthen its sense of separation from other people, your surroundings, your here and now. As you know, separation is the basis for the ego’s sense of identity. True acceptance would transmute those feelings at once. And if you really knew deeply that everything is “okay,” as you put it, and which of course is true, then would you have those negative feelings in the first place? Without judgment, without resistance to what is, they would not arise. You have an idea in your mind that “everything is okay,” but deep down you don’t really believe it, and so the old mental-emotional patterns of resistance are still in place. That’s what makes you feel bad.

Wherever you are, be there totally. If you find your here and now intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally. If you want to take responsibility for your life, you must choose one of those three options, and you must choose now. Then accept the consequences. No excuses. No negativity. No psychic pollution. Keep your inner space clear. If you take any action — leaving or changing your situation — drop the negativity first, if at all possible. Action arising out of insight into what is required is more effective than action arising out of negativity.

is there something that you “should” be doing but are not doing it? Get up and do it now. Alternatively, completely accept your inactivity, laziness, or passivity at this moment, if that is your choice. Go into it fully. Enjoy it. Be as lazy or inactive as you can. If you go into it fully and consciously, you will soon come out of it. Or maybe you won’t. Either way, there is no inner conflict, no resistance, no negativity.

Are you stressed? Are you so busy getting to the future that the present is reduced to a means of getting there? Stress is caused by being “here” but wanting to be “there,” or being in the present but wanting to be in the future. It’s a split that tears you apart inside. To create and live with such an inner split is insane. The fact that everyone else is doing it doesn’t make it any less insane. If you have to, you can move fast, work fast, or even run, without projecting yourself into the future and without resisting the present. As you move, work, run — do it totally. Enjoy the flow of energy, the high energy of that moment. Now you are no longer stressed, no longer splitting yourself in two. Just moving, running, working — and enjoying it. Or you can drop the whole thing and sit on a park bench. But when you do, watch your mind. It may say: “You should be working. You are wasting time.” Observe the mind. Smile at it. Does the past take up a great deal of your attention? Do you frequently talk and think about it, either positively or negatively? The great things that you have achieved, your adventures or experiences, or your victim story and the dreadful things that were done to you, or maybe what you did to someone else? Are your thought processes creating guilt, pride, resentment, anger, regret, or self-pity? Then you are not only reinforcing a false sense of self but also helping to accelerate your body’s aging process by creating an accumulation of past in your psyche. Verify this for yourself by observing those around you who have a strong tendency to hold on to the past. Die to the past every moment. You don’t need it. Only refer to it when it is absolutely relevant to the present. Feel the power of this moment and the fullness of Being. Feel your presence.

Are you worried? Do you have many “what if” thoughts? You are identified with your mind, which is projecting itself into an imaginary future situation and creating fear. There is no way that you can cope with such a situation, because it doesn’t exist. It’s a mental phantom. You can stop this health-and life-corroding insanity simply by acknowledging the present moment. Become aware of your breathing. Feel the air flowing in and out of your body. Feel your inner energy field. All that you ever have to deal with, cope with, in real life — as opposed to

imaginary mind projections — is this moment. Ask yourself what “problem” you have right now, not next year, tomorrow, or five minutes from now. What is wrong with this moment? You can always cope with the Now, but you can never cope with the future — nor do you have to. The answer, the strength, the right action or the resource will be there when you need it, not before, not after. “One day I’ll make it.” Is your goal taking up so much of your attention that you reduce the present moment to a means to an end? Is it taking the joy out of your doing? Are you waiting to start living? If you develop such a mind pattern, no matter what you achieve or get, the present will never be good enough; the future will always seem better. A perfect recipe for permanent dissatisfaction and nonfulfillment, don’t you agree? Are you a habitual “waiter”? How much of your life do you spend waiting? What I call “small-scale waiting” is waiting in line at the post office, in a traffic jam, at the airport, or waiting for someone to arrive, to finish work, and so on. “Large-scale waiting” is waiting for the next vacation, for a better job, for the children to grow up, for a truly meaningful relationship, for success, to make money, to be important, to become enlightened. It is not uncommon for people to spend their whole life waiting to start living. Waiting is a state of mind. Basically, it means that you want the future; you don’t want the present. You don’t want what you’ve got, and you want what you haven’t got. With every kind of waiting, you unconsciously create inner conflict between your here and now, where you don’t want to be, and the projected future, where you want to be. This greatly reduces the quality of your life by making you lose the present.

If you are present, there is never any need for you to wait for anything. So next time somebody says, “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” you can reply, “That’s all right, I wasn’t waiting. I was just standing here enjoying myself — in joy in my self.”

as long as you haven’t realized your inner purpose. After that, the outer purpose is just a game that you may continue to play simply because you enjoy it. It is also possible to fail completely in your outer purpose and at the same time totally succeed in your inner purpose. Or the other way around, which is actually more common: outer riches and inner poverty, or to “gain the world and lose your soul,” as Jesus puts it. Ultimately, of course, every outer purpose is doomed to “fail” sooner or later, simply because it is subject to the law of impermanence of all things. The sooner you realize that your outer purpose cannot give you lasting fulfillment, the better.

Whatever you need to know about the unconscious past in you, the challenges of the present will bring it out. If you delve into the past, it will become a bottomless pit: There is always more. You may think that you need more time to understand the past or become free of it, in other words, that the future will eventually free you of the past. This is a delusion. Only the present can free you of the past. More time cannot free you of time. Access the power of Now. That is the key.

So deal with the past on the level of the present. The more attention you give to the past, the more you energize it, and the more likely you are to make a “self” out of it. Don’t misunderstand: Attention is essential, but not to the past as past. Give attention to the present; give attention to your behavior, to your reactions, moods, thoughts, emotions, fears, and desires as they occur in the present.

There’s the past in you. If you can be present enough to watch all those things, not critically or analytically but nonjudgmentally, then you are dealing with the past and dissolving it through the power of your presence. You cannot find yourself by going into the past. You find yourself by coming into the present.

Try a little experiment. Close your eyes and say to yourself: “I wonder what my next thought is going to be.” Then become very alert and wait for the next thought. Be like a cat watching a mouse hole. What thought is going to come out of the mouse hole? Try it now. Well?

I had to wait for quite a long time before a thought came in.

Exactly. As long as you are in a state of intense presence, you are free of thought. You are still, yet highly alert. The instant your conscious attention sinks below a certain level, thought rushes in. The mental noise returns; the stillness is lost. You are back in time.

In another parable, Jesus speaks of the five careless (unconscious) women who do not have enough oil (consciousness) to keep their lamps burning (stay present) and so miss the bridegroom (the Now) and don’t get to the wedding feast (enlightenment). These five stand in contrast to the five wise women who have enough oil (stay conscious). Even the men who wrote the Gospels did not understand the meaning of these parables, so the first misinterpretations and distortions crept in as they were written down. With subsequent erroneous interpretations, the real meaning was completely lost. These are parables not about the end of the world but about the end of psychological time. They point to the transcendence of the egoic mind and the possibility of living in an entirely new state of consciousness.

What you have just described is something that I occasionally experience for brief moments when I am alone and surrounded by nature.

Yes. Zen masters use the word satori to describe a flash of insight, a moment of no-mind and total presence. Although satori is not a lasting transformation, be grateful when it comes, for it gives you a taste of enlightenment. You may, indeed, have experienced it many times without knowing what it is and realizing its importance. Presence is needed to become aware of the beauty, the majesty, the sacredness of nature. Have you ever gazed up into the infinity of space on a clear night, awestruck by the absolute stillness and inconceivable vastness of it? Have you listened, truly listened, to the sound of a mountain stream in the forest? Or to the song of a blackbird at dusk on a quiet summer evening? To become aware of such things, the mind needs to be still. You have to put down for a moment your personal baggage of problems, of past and future, as well as all your knowledge; otherwise, you will see but not see, hear but not hear. Your total presence is required.

Beyond the beauty of the external forms, there is more here: something that cannot be named, something ineffable, some deep, inner, holy essence. Whenever and wherever there is beauty, this inner essence shines through somehow. It only reveals itself to you when you are present. Could it be that this nameless essence and your presence are one and the same? Would it be there without your presence? Go deeply into it. Find out for yourself.

When you experienced those moments of presence, you likely didn’t realize that you were briefly in a state of nomind. This is because the gap between that state and the influx of thought was too narrow. Your satori may only have lasted for a few seconds before the mind came in, but it was there; otherwise, you would not have experienced the beauty. Mind can neither recognize nor create beauty. Only for a few seconds, while you were completely present, was that beauty or that sacredness there. Because of the narrowness of that gap and a lack of vigilance and alertness on your part, you were probably unable to see the fundamental difference between the perception, the thoughtless awareness of beauty, and the naming and interpreting of it as thought: The time gap was so small that it seemed to be a single process. The truth is, however, that the moment thought came in, all you had was a memory of it.

Many people are so imprisoned in their minds that the beauty of nature does not really exist for them. They might say, “What a pretty flower,” but that’s just a mechanical mental labeling. Because they are not still, not present, they don’t truly see the flower, don’t feel its essence, its holiness — just as they don’t know themselves, don’t feel their own essence, their own holiness. Because we live in such a mind-dominated culture, most modern art, architecture, music, and literature are devoid of beauty, of inner essence, with very few exceptions. The reason is that the people who create those things cannot — even for a moment — free themselves from their mind. So they are never in touch with that place within where true creativity and beauty arise. The mind left to itself creates monstrosities, and not only in art galleries. Look at our urban landscapes and industrial wastelands. No civilization has ever produced so much ugliness.

When you become conscious of Being, what is really happening is that Being becomes conscious of itself. When Being becomes conscious of itself — that’s presence. Since Being, consciousness, and life are synonymous, we could say that presence means consciousness becoming conscious of itself, or life attaining self-consciousness. But don’t get attached to the words, and don’t make an effort to understand this. There is nothing that you need to understand before you can become present.

Everything that exists has Being, has God-essence, has some degree of consciousness. Even a stone has rudimentary consciousness; otherwise, it would not be, and its atoms and molecules would disperse. Everything is alive. The sun, the earth, plants, animals, humans — all are expressions of consciousness in varying degrees, consciousness manifesting as form.

The world arises when consciousness takes on shapes and forms, thought forms and material forms. Look at the millions of life forms on this planet alone. In the sea, on land, in the air — and then each life form is replicated millions of times. To what end? Is someone or something playing a game, a game with form? This is what the ancient seers of India asked themselves. They saw the world as lila, a kind of divine game that God is playing. The individual life forms are obviously not very important in this game. In the sea, most life forms don’t survive for

more than a few minutes after being born. The human form turns to dust pretty quickly too, and when it is gone it is as if it had never been. Is that tragic or cruel? Only if you create a separate identity for each form, if you forget that its consciousness is God-essence expressing itself in form. But you don’t truly know that until you realize your own God-essence as pure consciousness. If a fish is born in your aquarium and you call him John, write out a birth certificate, tell him about his family history, and two minutes later he gets eaten by another fish — that’s tragic. But it’s only tragic because you projected a separate self where there was none. You got hold of a fraction of a dynamic process, a molecular dance, and made a separate entity out of it. Consciousness takes on the disguise of forms until they reach such complexity that it completely loses itself in them. In present-day humans, consciousness is completely identified with its disguise. It only knows itself as form and therefore lives in fear of the annihilation of its physical or psychological form. This is the egoic mind, and this is where considerable dysfunction sets in. It now looks as if something had gone very wrong somewhere along the line of evolution. But even this is part of lila, the divine game. Finally, the pressure of suffering created by this apparent dysfunction forces consciousness to disidentify from form and awakens it from its dream of form: It regains self-consciousness, but it is at a far deeper level than when it lost it. This process is explained by Jesus in his parable of the lost son, who leaves his father’s home, squanders his wealth, becomes destitute, and is then forced by his suffering to return home. When he does, his father loves him more than before. The son’s state is the same as it was before, yet not the same. It has an added dimension of depth. The parable describes a journey from unconscious perfection, through apparent imperfection and “evil” to conscious perfection.

Can you now see the deeper and wider significance of becoming present as the watcher of your mind? Whenever you watch the mind, you withdraw consciousness from mind forms, and it then becomes what we call the watcher or the witness. Consequently, the watcher — pure consciousness beyond form — becomes stronger, and the mental formations become weaker. When we talk about watching the mind we are personalizing an event that is truly of cosmic significance: Through you, consciousness is awakening out of its dream of identification with form and withdrawing from form. This foreshadows, but is already part of, an event that is probably still in the distant future as far as chronological time is concerned. The event is called — the end of the world.

When consciousness frees itself from its identification with physical and mental forms, it becomes what we may call pure or enlightened consciousness, or presence. This has already happened in a few individuals, and it seems destined to happen soon on a much larger scale, although there is no absolute guarantee that it will happen. Most humans are still in the grip of the egoic mode of consciousness: identified with their mind and run by their mind. If they do not free themselves from their mind in time, they will be destroyed by it. They will experience increasing confusion, conflict, violence, illness, despair, madness. Egoic mind has become like a sinking ship. If you don’t get off, you will go down with it. The collective egoic mind is the most dangerously insane and destructive entity ever to inhabit this planet. What do you think will happen on this planet if human consciousness remains unchanged?

Already for most humans, the only respite they find from their own minds is to occasionally revert to a level of consciousness below thought. Everyone does that every night during sleep. But this also happens to some extent through sex, alcohol, and other drugs that suppress excessive mind activity. If it weren’t for alcohol, tranquilizers, antidepressants, as well as the illegal drugs, which are all consumed in vast quantities, the insanity of the human mind would become even more glaringly obvious than it is already. I believe that, if deprived of their drugs, a large part of the population would become a danger to themselves and others. These drugs, of course, simply keep you stuck in dysfunction. Their widespread use only delays the breakdown of the old mind structures and the emergence of higher consciousness. While individual users may get some relief from the daily torture inflicted on them by their minds, they are prevented from generating enough conscious presence to rise above thought and so find true liberation.

Falling back to a level of consciousness below mind, which is the pre-thinking level of our distant ancestors and of animals and plants, is not an option for us. There is no way back. If the human race is to survive, it will have to go on to the next stage. Consciousness is evolving throughout the universe in billions of forms. So even if we didn’t make it, this wouldn’t matter on a cosmic scale. No gain in consciousness is ever lost, so it would simply express itself through some other form. But the very fact that I am speaking here and you are listening or reading this is a clear sign that the new consciousness is gaining a foothold on the planet.

Silence is an even more potent carrier of presence, so when you read this or listen to me speak, be aware of the silence between and underneath the words. Be aware of the gaps. To listen to the silence, wherever you are, is an easy and direct way of becoming present. Even if there is noise, there is always some silence underneath and in between the sounds. Listening to the silence immediately creates stillness inside you. Only the stillness in you can perceive the silence outside. And what is stillness other than presence, consciousness freed from thought forms? Here is the living realization of what we have been talking about.

Many misunderstandings and false beliefs about Christ will clear if you realize that there is no past or future in Christ. To say that Christ was or will be is a contradiction in terms. Jesus was. He was a man who lived two thousand years ago and realized divine presence, his true nature. And so he said: “Before Abraham was, I am.” He did not say: “I already existed before Abraham was born.” That would have meant that he was still within the dimension of time and form identity. The words I am used in a sentence that starts in the past tense indicate a radical shift, a discontinuity in the temporal dimension. It is a Zen-like statement of great profundity. Jesus attempted to convey directly, not through discursive thought, the meaning of presence, of self-realization. He had gone beyond the consciousness dimension governed by time, into the realm of the timeless. The dimension of eternity had come into this world. Eternity, of course, does not mean endless time, but no time. Thus, the man Jesus became Christ, a vehicle for pure consciousness. And what is God’s self-definition in the Bible? Did God say, “I have always been, and I always will be?” Of course not. That would have given reality to past and future. God said: “I AM THAT I AM.” No time here, just presence. The “second coming” of Christ is a transformation of human consciousness, a shift from time to presence, from thinking to pure consciousness, not the arrival of some man or woman. If “Christ” were to return tomorrow in some externalized form, what could he or she possibly say to you other than this: “I am the Truth. I am divine presence. I am eternal life. I am within you. I am here. I am Now.”

Never personalize Christ. Don’t make Christ into a form identity. Avatars, divine mothers, enlightened masters, the very few that are real, are not special as persons. Without a false self to uphold, defend, and feed, they are more simple, more ordinary than the ordinary man or woman. Anyone with a strong ego would regard them as insignificant or, more likely, not see them at all.

Being can be felt as the ever-present I am that is beyond name and form. To feel and thus to know that you are and to abide in that deeply rooted state is enlightenment, is the truth that Jesus says will make you free.

Free from what? Free from the illusion that you are nothing more than your physical body and your mind. This “illusion of the self,” as the Buddha calls it, is the core error. Free from fear in its countless disguises as the inevitable consequence of that illusion — the fear that is your constant tormentor as long as you derive your sense of self only from this ephemeral and vulnerable form. And free from sin, which is the suffering you unconsciously inflict on yourself and others as long as this illusory sense of self governs what you think, say, and do.

Don’t get stuck on the level of words. A word is no more than a means to an end. It’s an abstraction. Not unlike a signpost, it points beyond itself. The word honey isn’t honey. You can study and talk about honey for as long as you like, but you won’t really know it until you taste it. After you have tasted it, the word becomes less important to you. You won’t be attached to it anymore. Similarly, you can talk or think about God continuously for the rest of your life, but does that mean you know or have even glimpsed the reality to which the word points? It really is no more than an obsessive attachment to a signpost, a mental idol.

The reverse also applies: If, for whatever reason, you disliked the word honey, that might prevent you from ever tasting it. If you had a strong aversion to the word God, which is a negative form of attachment, you may be denying not just the word but also the reality to which it points. You would be cutting yourself off from the possibility of experiencing that reality. All this is, of course, intrinsically connected with being identified with your mind.

So, if a word doesn’t work for you anymore, then drop it and replace it with one that does work. If you don’t like the word sin, then call it unconsciousness or insanity. That may get you closer to the truth, the reality behind the word, than a long-misused word like sin, and leaves little room for guilt.

you are not just a meaningless fragment in an alien universe, briefly suspended between birth and death, allowed a few short-lived pleasures followed by pain and ultimate annihilation. Underneath your outer form, you are connected with something so vast, so immeasurable and sacred, that it cannot be conceived or spoken of — yet I am speaking of it now. I am speaking of it not to give you something to believe in but to show you how you can know it for yourself.

You are cut off from Being as long as your mind takes up all your attention. When this happens — and it happens continuously for most people — you are not in your body. The mind absorbs all your consciousness and transforms it into mind stuff. You cannot stop thinking. Compulsive thinking has become a collective disease. Your whole sense of who you are is then derived from mind activity. Your identity, as it is no longer rooted in Being, becomes a vulnerable and ever-needy mental construct, which creates fear as the predominant underlying emotion. The one thing that truly matters is then missing from your life: awareness of your deeper self — your invisible and indestructible reality.

To become conscious of Being, you need to reclaim consciousness from the mind. This is one of the most essential tasks on your spiritual journey. It will free vast amounts of consciousness that previously had been trapped in useless and compulsive thinking. A very effective way of doing this is simply to take the focus of your attention away from thinking and direct it into the body, where Being can be felt in the first instance as the invisible energy field that gives life to what you perceive as the physical body.

When religions arose, this disassociation became even more pronounced as the “you are not your body” belief. Countless people in East and West throughout the ages have tried to find God, salvation, or enlightenment through denial of the body. This took the form of denial of sense pleasures and of sexuality in particular, fasting, and other ascetic practices. They even inflicted pain on the body in an attempt to weaken or punish it because they regarded it as sinful. In Christianity, this used to be called mortification of the flesh. Others tried to escape from the body by entering trance states or seeking out-of-body experiences. Many still do. Even the Buddha is said to have practiced body denial through fasting and extreme forms of asceticism for six years, but he did not attain enlightenment until after he had given up this practice. The fact is that no one has ever become enlightened through denying or fighting the body or through an out-of-body experience. Although such an experience can be fascinating and can give you a glimpse of the state of liberation from the material form, in the end you will always have to return to the body, where the essential work of transformation takes place. Transformation is through the body, not away from it. This is why no true master has ever advocated fighting or leaving the body, although their mind-based followers often have.

Unless you stay present — and inhabiting your body is always an essential aspect of it — you will continue to be run by your mind. The script in your head that you learned a long time ago, the conditioning of your mind, will dictate your thinking and your behavior. You may be free of it for brief intervals, but rarely for long. This is especially true when something “goes wrong” or there is some loss or upset. Your conditioned reaction will then be involuntary, automatic, and predictable, fueled by the one basic emotion that underlies the mind-identified state of consciousness: fear. So when such challenges come, as they always do, make it a habit to go within at once and focus as much as you can on the inner energy field of your body. This need not take long, just a few seconds. But you need to do it the moment that the challenge presents itself. Any delay will allow a conditioned mental-emotional reaction to arise and take you over. When you focus within and feel the inner body, you immediately become still and present as you are withdrawing consciousness from the mind. If a response is required in that situation, it will come up from this deeper level. Just as the sun is infinitely brighter than a candle flame, there is infinitely more intelligence in Being than in your mind. As long as you are in conscious contact with your inner body, you are like a tree that is deeply rooted in the earth, or a building with a deep and solid foundation. The latter analogy is used by Jesus in the generally misunderstood parable of the two men who build a house. One man builds it on the sand, without a foundation, and when the storms and floods come, the house is swept away. The other man digs deep until he reaches the rock, then builds his house, which is not swept away by the floods.

Attention does not mean that you start thinking about it. It means to just observe the emotion, to feel it fully, and so to acknowledge and accept it as it is. Some emotions are easily identified: anger, fear, grief, and so on. Others may be much harder to label. They may just be vague feelings of unease, heaviness, or constriction, halfway between an emotion and a physical sensation. In any case, what matters is not whether you can attach a mental label to it but whether you can bring the feeling of it into awareness as much as possible. Attention is the key to transformation — and full attention also implies acceptance. Attention is like a beam of light — the focused power of your consciousness that transmutes everything into itself. In a fully functional organism, an emotion has a very short life span. It is like a momentary ripple or wave on the surface of your Being. When you are not in your body, however, an emotion can survive inside you for days or weeks, or join with other emotions of a similar frequency that have merged and become the pain-body, a parasite that can live inside you for years, feed on your energy, lead to physical illness, and make your life miserable.

check whether your mind is holding on to a grievance pattern such as blame, self-pity, or resentment that is feeding the emotion. If that is the case, it means that you haven’t forgiven. Non- forgiveness is often toward another person or yourself, but it may just as well be toward any situation or condition — past, present, or future — that your mind refuses to accept. Yes, there can be nonforgiveness even with regard to the future. This is the mind’s refusal to accept uncertainty, to accept that the future is ultimately beyond its control. Forgiveness is to relinquish your grievance and so to let go of grief. It happens naturally once you realize that your grievance serves no purpose except to strengthen a false sense of self. Forgiveness is to offer no resistance to life — to allow life to live through you. The alternatives are pain and suffering, a greatly restricted flow of life energy, and in many cases physical disease.

an awakening of consciousness from the dream of form. This does not mean that your own form will instantly vanish in an explosion of light. You can continue in your present form yet be aware of the formless and deathless deep within you.

Most illnesses creep in when you are not present in the body. If the master is not present in the house, all kinds of shady characters will take up residence there. When you inhabit your body, it will be hard for unwanted guests to enter. It is not only your physical immune system that becomes strengthened; your psychic immune system is greatly enhanced as well. The latter protects you from the negative mental-emotional force fields of others, which are highly contagious. Inhabiting the body protects you not by putting up a shield, but by raising the frequency vibration of your total energy field, so that anything that vibrates at a lower frequency, such as fear, anger, depression, and so on, now exists in what is virtually a different order of reality. It doesn’t enter your field of consciousness anymore, or if it does you don’t need to offer any resistance to it because it passes right through you. Please don’t just accept or reject what I am saying. Put it to the test.

When listening to another person, don’t just listen with your mind, listen with your whole body. Feel the energy field of your inner body as you listen. That takes attention away from thinking and creates a still space that enables you to truly listen without the mind interfering. You are giving the other person space — space to be. It is the most precious gift you can give. Most people don’t know how to listen because the major part of their attention is taken up by thinking. They pay more attention to that than to what the other person is saying, and none at all to what really matters: the Being of the other person underneath the words and the mind. Of course, you cannot feel someone else’s Being except through your own. This is the beginning of the realization of oneness, which is love. At the deepest level of Being, you are one with all that is.

When you dissolve psychological time through intense present-moment awareness, you become conscious of the Unmanifested both directly and indirectly. Directly, you feel it as the radiance and power of your conscious presence — no content, just presence. Indirectly, you are aware of the Unmanifested in and through the sensory realm. In other words, you feel the God-essence in every creature, every flower, every stone, and you realize: “All that is, is holy.” This is why Jesus, speaking entirely from his essence or Christ identity, says in the Gospel of Thomas: “Split a piece of wood; I am there. Lift up a stone, and you will find me there.”

Approaching death and death itself, the dissolution of the physical form, is always a great opportunity for spiritual realization. This opportunity is tragically missed most of the time, since we live in a culture that is almost totally ignorant of death, as it is almost totally ignorant of anything that truly matters.

Every portal is a portal of death, the death of the false self. When you go through it, you cease to derive your identity from your psychological, mind-made form. You then realize that death is an illusion, just as your identification with form was an illusion. The end of illusion — that’s all that death is. It is painful only as long as you cling to illusion.

True salvation is a state of freedom — from fear, from suffering, from a perceived state of lack and insufficiency and therefore from all wanting, needing, grasping, and clinging. It is freedom from compulsive thinking, from negativity, and above all from past and future as a psychological need. Your mind is telling you that you cannot get there from here. Something needs to happen, or you need to become this or that before you can be free and fulfilled. It is saying, in fact, that you need time — that you need to find, sort out, do, achieve, acquire, become, or understand something before you can be free or complete. You see time as the means to salvation, whereas in truth it is the greatest obstacle to salvation. You think that you can’t get there from where and who you are at this moment because you are not yet complete or good enough, but the truth is that here and now is the only point from where you can get there. You “get” there by realizing that you are there already. You find God the moment you realize that you don’t need to seek God. So there is no only way to salvation: Any condition can be used, but no particular condition is needed. However, there is only one point of access: the Now. There can be no salvation away from this moment. You are lonely and without a partner? Enter the Now from there. You are in a relationship? Enter the Now from there.

There is nothing you can ever do or attain that will get you closer to salvation than it is at this moment. This may be hard to grasp for a mind accustomed to thinking that everything worthwhile is in the future. Nor can anything that you ever did or that was done to you in the past prevent you from saying yes to what is and taking your attention deeply into the Now. You cannot do this in the future. You do it now or not at all.

The reason why the romantic love relationship is such an intense and universally sought-after experience is that it seems to offer liberation from a deep-seated state of fear, need, lack, and incompleteness that is part of the human condition in its unredeemed and unenlightened state. There is a physical as well as a psychological dimension to this state.

On the physical level, you are obviously not whole, nor will you ever be: You are either a man or a woman, which is to say, one-half of the whole. On this level, the longing for wholeness — the return to oneness — manifests as male- female attraction, man’s need for a woman, woman’s need for a man. It is an almost irresistible urge for union with the opposite energy polarity. The root of this physical urge is a spiritual one: the longing for an end to duality, a return to the state of wholeness. Sexual union is the closest you can get to this state on the physical level. This is why it is the most deeply satisfying experience the physical realm can offer. But sexual union is no more than a fleeting glimpse of wholeness, an instant of bliss. As long as it is unconsciously sought as a means of salvation, you are seeking the end of duality on the level of form, where it cannot be found. You are given a tantalizing glimpse of heaven, but you are not allowed to dwell there, and find yourself again in a separate body.

On the psychological level, the sense of lack and incompleteness is, if anything, even greater than on the physical level. As long as you are identified with the mind, you have an externally derived sense of self. That is to say, you get your sense of who you are from things that ultimately have nothing to do with who you are: your social role, possessions, external appearance, successes and failures, belief systems, and so on. This false, mind-made self, the ego, feels vulnerable, insecure, and is always seeking new things to identify with to give it a feeling that it exists. But nothing is ever enough to give it lasting fulfillment. Its fear remains; its sense of lack and neediness remains.

Every addiction arises from an unconscious refusal to face and move through your own pain. Every addiction starts with pain and ends with pain. Whatever the substance you are addicted to — alcohol, food, legal or illegal drugs, or a person — you are using something or somebody to cover up your pain. That is why, after the initial euphoria has passed, there is so much unhappiness, so much pain in intimate relationships. They do not cause pain and unhappiness. They bring out the pain and unhappiness that is already in you. Every addiction does that. Every addiction reaches a point where it does not work for you anymore, and then you feel the pain more intensely than ever.

Love is a state of Being. Your love is not outside; it is deep within you. You can never lose it, and it cannot leave you. It is not dependent on some other body, some external form. In the stillness of your presence, you can feel your own formless and timeless reality as the unmanifested life that animates your physical form. You can then feel the same life deep within every other human and every other creature. You look beyond the veil of form and separation. This is the realization of oneness. This is love.

Apart from her personal pain-body, every woman has her share in what could be described as the collective female pain-body — unless she is fully conscious. This consists of accumulated pain suffered by women partly through male subjugation of the female, through slavery, exploitation, rape, childbirth, child loss, and so on, over thousands of years. The emotional or physical pain that for many women precedes and coincides with the menstrual flow is the pain-body in its collective aspect that awakens from its dormancy at that time, although it can be triggered at other times too. It restricts the free flow of life energy through the body, of which menstruation is a physical expression. Let’s dwell on this for a moment and see how it can become an opportunity for enlightenment.

Often a woman is “taken over” by the pain-body at that time. It has an extremely powerful energetic charge that can easily pull you into unconscious identification with it. You are then actively possessed by an energy field that occupies your inner space and pretends to be you — but, of course, is not you at all. It speaks through you, acts through you, thinks through you. It will create negative situations in your life so that it can feed on the energy. It wants more pain, in whatever form. I have described this process already. It can be vicious and destructive. It is pure pain, past pain — and it is not you.

When one is fully conscious, would one still have a need for a relationship? Would a man still feel drawn to a woman? Would a woman still feel incomplete without a man?

Enlightened or not, you are either a man or a woman, so on the level of your form identity you are not complete. You are one-half of the whole. This incompleteness is felt as male-female attraction, the pull toward the opposite energy polarity, no matter how conscious you are. But in that state of inner connectedness, you feel this pull somewhere on the surface or periphery of your life. Anything that happens to you in that state feels somewhat like that...So it is perfectly possible for an enlightened person, if the need for the male or female polarity is not met, to feel a sense of lack or incompleteness on the outer level of his or her being, yet at the same time be totally complete, fulfilled, and at peace within.

But do you need to have a relationship with yourself at all? Why can’t you just be yourself? When you have a relationship with yourself, you have split yourself into two: “I” and “myself,” subject and object. That mind-created duality is the root cause of all unnecessary complexity, of all problems and conflict in your life. In the state of enlightenment, you are yourself — “you” and “yourself” merge into one. You do not judge yourself, you do not feel sorry for yourself, you are not proud of yourself, you do not love yourself, you do not hate yourself, and so on. The split caused by self-reflective consciousness is healed, its curse removed. There is no “self” that you need to protect, defend, or feed anymore. When you are enlightened, there is one relationship that you no longer have: the relationship with yourself. Once you have given that up, all your other relationships will be love relationships.

Seen from a higher perspective, conditions are always positive. To be more precise: they are neither positive nor negative. They are as they are. And when you live in complete acceptance of what is — which is the only sane way to live — there is no “good” or “bad” in your life anymore. There is only a higher good — which includes the “bad.” Seen from the perspective of the mind, however, there is good-bad, like-dislike, love-hate. Hence, in the Book of Genesis, it is said that Adam and Eve were no longer allowed to dwell in “paradise” when they “ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”

Do what you have to do. In the meantime, accept what is. Since mind and resistance are synonymous, acceptance immediately frees you from mind dominance and thus reconnects you with Being. As a result, the usual ego motivations for “doing” — fear, greed, control, defending or feeding the false sense of self — will cease to operate. An intelligence much greater than the mind is now in charge, and so a different quality of consciousness will flow into your doing.

Ego is the unobserved mind that runs your life when you are not present as the witnessing consciousness, the watcher. The ego perceives itself as a separate fragment in a hostile universe, with no real inner connection to any other being, surrounded by other egos which it either sees as a potential threat or which it will attempt to use for its own ends. The basic ego patterns are designed to combat its own deep-seated fear and sense of lack. They are resistance, control, power, greed, defense, attack. Some of the ego’s strategies are extremely clever, yet they never truly solve any of its problems, simply because the ego itself is the problem.

Most people are in love with their particular life drama. Their story is their identity. The ego runs their life. They have their whole sense of self invested in it. Even their — usually unsuccessful — search for an answer, a solution, or for healing becomes part of it. What they fear and resist most is the end of their drama. As long as they are their mind, what they fear and resist most is their own awakening.

When you live in complete acceptance of what is, that is the end of all drama in your life. Nobody can even have an argument with you, no matter how hard he or she tries. You cannot have an argument with a fully conscious person. An argument implies identification with your mind and a mental position, as well as resistance and reaction to the other person’s position. The result is that the polar opposites become mutually energized. These are the mechanics of

unconsciousness. You can still make your point clearly and firmly, but there will be no reactive force behind it, no defense or attack. So it won’t turn into drama. When you are fully conscious, you cease to be in conflict.

On the level of form, there is birth and death, creation and destruction, growth and dissolution, of seemingly separate forms. This is reflected everywhere: in the life cycle of a star or a planet, a physical body, a tree, a flower; in the rise and fall of nations, political systems, civilizations; and in the inevitable cycles of gain and loss in the life of an individual.

There are cycles of success, when things come to you and thrive, and cycles of failure, when they wither or disintegrate and you have to let them go in order to make room for new things to arise, or for transformation to happen. If you cling and resist at that point, it means you are refusing to go with the flow of life, and you will suffer.

It is not true that the up cycle is good and the down cycle bad, except in the mind’s judgment. Growth is usually considered positive, but nothing can grow forever. If growth, of whatever kind, were to go on and on, it would eventually become monstrous and destructive. Dissolution is needed for new growth to happen. One cannot exist without the other.

Many illnesses are created through fighting against the cycles of low energy, which are vital for regeneration. The compulsion to do, and the tendency to derive your sense of self-worth and identity from external factors such as achievement, is an inevitable illusion as long as you are identified with the mind. This makes it hard or impossible for you to accept the low cycles and allow them to be. Thus, the intelligence of the organism may take over as a self-protective measure and create an illness in order to force you to stop, so that the necessary regeneration can take place.

The cyclical nature of the universe is closely linked with the impermanence of all things and situations. The Buddha made this a central part of his teaching. All conditions are highly unstable and in constant flux, or, as he put it, impermanence is a characteristic of every condition, every situation you will ever encounter in your life. It will change, disappear, or no longer satisfy you. Impermanence is also central to Jesus’s teaching: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal. . . .”

Many people never realize that there can be no “salvation” in anything they do, possess, or attain. Those who do realize it often become world-weary and depressed: If nothing can give you true fulfillment, what is there left to strive for, what is the point in anything? The Old Testament prophet must have arrived at such a realization when he wrote: “I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.” When you reach this point, you are one step away from despair — and one step away from enlightenment.

Negativity is totally unnatural. It is a psychic pollutant, and there is a deep link between the poisoning and destruction of nature and the vast negativity that has accumulated in the collective human psyche. No other life-form on the planet knows negativity, only humans, just as no other life-form violates and poisons the Earth that sustains it. Have you ever seen an unhappy flower or a stressed oak tree? Have you come across a depressed dolphin, a frog that has a problem with self-esteem, a cat that cannot relax, or a bird that carries hatred and resentment? The only animals that may occasionally experience something akin to negativity or show signs of neurotic behavior are those that live in close contact with humans and so link into the human mind and its insanity. Watch any plant or animal and let it teach you acceptance of what is, surrender to the Now. Let it teach you Being. Let it teach you integrity — which means to be one, to be yourself, to be real. Let it teach you how to live and how to die, and how not to make living and dying into a problem.

whenever you feel negativity arising within you, whether caused by an external factor, a thought, or even nothing in particular that you are aware of, look on it as a voice saying “Attention. Here and Now. Wake up.” Even the slightest irritation is significant and needs to be acknowledged and looked at; otherwise, there will be a cumulative buildup of unobserved reactions. As I said before, you may be able to just drop it once you realize that you don’t want to have this energy field inside you and that it serves no purpose. But then make sure that you drop it completely. If you cannot drop it, just accept that it is there and take your attention into the feeling, as I pointed out earlier. As an alternative to dropping a negative reaction, you can make it disappear by imagining yourself becoming transparent to the external cause of the reaction. I recommend that you practice it with little, even trivial, things first.Let’s say that you are sitting quietly at home. Suddenly, there is the penetrating sound of a car alarm from across the street. Irritation arises. What is the purpose of the irritation? None whatsoever. Why did you create it? You didn’t. The mind did. It was totally automatic, totally unconscious. Why did the mind create it? Because it holds the unconscious belief that its resistance, which you experience as negativity or unhappiness in some form, will somehow dissolve the undesirable condition. This, of course, is a delusion. The resistance that it creates, the irritation or anger in this case, is far more disturbing than the original cause that it is attempting to dissolve.

compassion becomes healing in the widest sense. In that state, your healing influence is primarily based not on doing but on being. Everybody you come in contact with will be touched by your presence and affected by the peace that you emanate, whether they are conscious of it or not. When you are fully present and people around you manifest unconscious behavior, you won’t feel the need to react to it, so you don’t give it any reality. Your peace is so vast and deep that anything that is not peace disappears into it as if it had never existed. This breaks the karmic cycle of action and reaction. Animals, trees, flowers will feel your peace and respond to it. You teach through being, through demonstrating the peace of God. You become the “light of the world,” an emanation of pure consciousness, and so you eliminate suffering on the level of cause. You eliminate unconsciousness from the world.

If you feel called upon to alleviate suffering in the world, that is a very noble thing to do, but remember not to focus exclusively on the outer; otherwise, you will encounter frustration and despair. Without a profound change in human consciousness, the world’s suffering is a bottomless pit. So don’t let your compassion become one-sided. Empathy with someone else’s pain or lack and a desire to help need to be balanced with a deeper realization of the eternal nature of all life and the ultimate illusion of all pain. Then let your peace flow into whatever you do and you will be working on the levels of effect and cause simultaneously. This also applies if you are supporting a movement designed to stop deeply unconscious humans from destroying themselves, each other, and the planet, or from continuing to inflict dreadful suffering on other sentient beings. Remember: Just as you cannot fight the darkness, so you cannot fight unconsciousness. If you try to do so, the polar opposites will become strengthened and more deeply entrenched. You will become identified with one of the polarities, you will create an “enemy,” and so be drawn into unconsciousness yourself. Raise awareness by disseminating information, or at the most, practice passive resistance. But make sure that you carry no resistance within, no hatred, no negativity. “Love your enemies,” said Jesus, which, of course, means “have no enemies.”

If you have lived long enough, you will know that things “go wrong” quite often. It is precisely at those times that surrender needs to be practiced if you want to eliminate pain and sorrow from your life. Acceptance of what is immediately frees you from mind identification and thus reconnects you with Being. Resistance is the mind. Surrender is a purely inner phenomenon. It does not mean that on the outer level you cannot take action and change the situation. In fact, it is not the overall situation that you need to accept when you surrender, but just the tiny segment called the Now.

Would you choose unhappiness? If you did not choose it, how did it arise? What is its purpose? Who is keeping it alive? You say that you are conscious of your unhappy feelings, but the truth is that you are identified with them and keep the process alive through compulsive thinking. All that is unconscious. If you were conscious, that is to say totally present in the Now, all negativity would dissolve almost instantly. It could not survive in your presence. It can only survive in your absence. Even the pain-body cannot survive for long in your presence. You keep your unhappiness alive by giving it time. That is its lifeblood. Remove time through intense present-moment awareness and it dies. But do you want it to die? Have you truly had enough? Who would you be without it?

Until you practice surrender, the spiritual dimension is something you read about, talk about, get excited about, write books about, think about, believe in — or don’t, as the case may be. It makes no difference. Not until you surrender does it become a living reality in your life. When you do, the energy that you emanate and which then runs your life is of a much higher vibrational frequency than the mind energy that still runs our world — the energy that created the existing social, political, and economic structures of our civilization, and which also continuously perpetuates itself through our educational systems and the media. Through surrender, spiritual energy comes into this world. It creates no suffering for yourself, for other humans, or any other life form on the planet. Unlike mind energy, it does not pollute the earth, and it is not subject to the law of polarities, which dictates that nothing can exist without its opposite, that there can be no good without bad. Those who run on mind energy, which is still the vast majority of the Earth’s population, remain unaware of the existence of spiritual energy. It belongs to a different order of reality and will create a different world when a sufficient number of humans enter the surrendered state and so become totally free of negativity. If the Earth is to survive, this will be the energy of those who inhabit it.

one day, in the middle of an argument, you will suddenly realize that you have a choice, and you may decide to drop your own reaction — just to see what happens. You surrender. I don’t mean dropping the reaction just verbally by saying, “Okay, you are right,” with a look on your face that says, “I am above all this childish unconsciousness.” That’s just displacing the resistance to another level, with the egoic mind still in charge, claiming superiority. I am speaking of letting go of the entire mental-emotional energy field inside you that was fighting for power. The ego is cunning, so you have to be very alert, very present, and totally honest with yourself to see whether you have truly relinquished your identification with a mental position and so freed yourself from your mind. If you suddenly feel very light, clear, and deeply at peace, that is an unmistakable sign that you have truly surrendered. Then observe what happens to the other person’s mental position as you no longer energize it through resistance. When identification with mental positions is out of the way, true communication begins.

So whenever any kind of disaster strikes, or something goes seriously “wrong” — illness, disability, loss of home or fortune or of a socially defined identity, breakup of a close relationship, death or suffering of a loved one, or your own impending death — know that there is another side to it, that you are just one step away from something incredible: a complete alchemical transmutation of the base metal of pain and suffering into gold. That one step is called surrender. I do not mean to say that you will become happy in such a situation. You will not. But fear and pain will become transmuted into an inner peace and serenity that come from a very deep place — from the Unmanifested itself. It is “the peace of God, which passes all understanding.” Compared to that, happiness is quite a shallow thing. With this radiant peace comes the realization — not on the level of mind but within the depth of your Being — that you are indestructible, immortal. This is not a belief. It is absolute certainty that needs no external evidence or proof from some secondary source.

In certain extreme situations, it may still be impossible for you to accept the Now. But you always get a second chance at surrender.Your first chance is to surrender each moment to the reality of that moment. Knowing that what is cannot be undone —because it already is — you say yes to what is or accept what isn’t. Then you do what you have to do, whatever the situation requires. If you abide in this state of acceptance, you create no more negativity, no more suffering, no more unhappiness. You then live in a state of nonresistance, a state of grace and lightness, free of struggle.

Whenever you are unable to do that, whenever you miss that chance — either because you are not generating enough conscious presence to prevent some habitual and unconscious resistance pattern from arising or because the condition is so extreme as to be absolutely unacceptable to you — then you are creating some form of pain, some form of suffering. It may look as if the situation is creating the suffering, but ultimately this is not so — your resistance is. Now here is your second chance at surrender: If you cannot accept what is outside, then accept what is inside. If you cannot accept the external condition, accept the internal condition. This means: Do not resist the pain. Allow it to be there. Surrender to the grief, despair, fear, loneliness, or whatever form the suffering takes. Witness it without labeling it mentally. Embrace it. Then see how the miracle of surrender transmutes deep suffering into deep peace. This is your crucifixion. Let it become your resurrection and ascension.

You don’t want to feel what you feel. What could be more normal? But there is no escape, no way out. There are many pseudo escapes — work, drink, drugs, anger, projection, suppression, and so on — but they don’t free you from the pain. Suffering does not diminish in intensity when you make it unconscious. When you deny emotional pain, everything you do or think as well as your relationships become contaminated with it. You broadcast it, so to speak, as the energy you emanate, and others will pick it up subliminally. If they are unconscious, they may even feel compelled to attack or hurt you in some way, or you may hurt them in an unconscious projection of your pain. You attract and manifest whatever corresponds to your inner state. When there is no way out, there is still always a way through. So don’t turn away from the pain. Face it. Feel it fully. Feel it — don’t think about it! Express it if necessary, but don’t create a script in your mind around it. Give all your attention to the feeling, not to the person, event, or situation that seems to have caused it. Don’t let the mind use the pain to create a victim identity for yourself out of it. Feeling sorry for yourself and telling others your story will keep you stuck in suffering. Since it is impossible to get away from the feeling, the only possibility of change is to move into it; otherwise, nothing will shift. So give your complete attention to what you feel, and refrain from mentally labeling it. As you go into the feeling, be intensely alert. At first, it may seem like a dark and terrifying place, and when the urge to turn away from it comes, observe it but don’t act on it. Keep putting your attention on the pain, keep feeling the grief, the fear, the dread, the loneliness, whatever it is. Stay alert, stay present — present with your whole Being, with every cell of your body. As you do so, you are bringing a light into this darkness. This is the flame of your consciousness.

I know that the word choose is a favorite New Age term, but it isn’t entirely accurate in this context. It is misleading to say that somebody “chose” a dysfunctional relationship or any other negative situation in his or her life. Choice implies consciousness — a high degree of consciousness. Without it, you have no choice. Choice begins the moment you disidentify from the mind and its conditioned patterns, the moment you become present. Until you reach that point, you are unconscious, spiritually speaking. This means that you are compelled to think, feel, and act in certain ways according to the conditioning of your mind. That is why Jesus said: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

So your friend, being identified with her mind, may be recreating a pattern learned in the past in which intimacy and abuse are inseparably linked. Alternatively, she may be acting out a mind pattern learned in early childhood according to which she is unworthy and deserves to be punished. It is possible, too, that she lives a large part of her life through the pain-body, which always seeks more pain on which to feed. Her partner has his own unconscious patterns, which complement hers. Of course her situation is self-created, but who or what is the self that is doing the creating? A mental-emotional pattern from the past, no more. Why make a self out of it? If you tell her that she has chosen her condition or situation, you are reinforcing her state of mind identification. But is her mind pattern who she is? Is it her self? Is her true identity derived from the past? Show your friend how to be the observing presence behind her thoughts and her emotions. Tell her about the pain-body and how to free herself from it. Teach her the art of inner-body awareness. Demonstrate to her the meaning of presence. As soon as she is able to access the power of the Now, and thereby break through her conditioned past, she will have a choice.

#book

[thepoetryofascension]

while you embody the energy that allows you to expand into your higher self, what does not align will fall away, and at times you may feel heartbroken. i want to assure you that grieving is a valid and important aspect of your journey, and you are allowed to give space to all of your emotions. you are also allowed to ask questions and reject whatever interferes with your growth; this includes the beliefs of those around you—you will never be a bad person for upholding your truths and no external opinion should dictate how you choose to transform. do in your heart what feels right and trust that you will eventually be met with support.

#loa #law of attraction #law of abundance #law of vibration #healing #positive #be gentle with yourself throughout your many transformations ♾️ #be boldly authentic #be brave #be yourself #who you are deep within is infinitely more important than who the world tells you to be #your divinity is worth upholding 💖♾️✨ #1111 #444 #you are supported 🌈 #me #standing in your power can be incredibly difficult when you've spent a long time pleasing others but you deserve to feel nourished too #be brave in your pursuit of joy 💜

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

#rec list #teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fanfic rec #akielosrises #ask

[katiebug-ladybug]

The Minecraft End Poem

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

#minecraft end poem #mcyt #minecraft #dream smp #georgenotfound #poetry #poem #writeblr #poemoftheday #mojang #daily poem

[neocatharsis]

Ten on his new Represent capsule, grappling with creativity, and evading genre lines.

As Ten Lee - a vocalist and dancer in K-pop groups NCT (with whom he debuted in 2016) and Super M, and Chinese group WayV - is musing over his proclivity for partnering music or visual styles in a way that others deem strange, he veers off on a tangent. “Anything can be matched… except juice and coffee,” he says, suddenly. “Those two should never be.” Ten is infamously anti-fruit. It stems from a mistaken process of association in childhood where “I had the image of a spider and the image of fruit mixed up,” he laughs awkwardly, “so now whenever I put fruit in my mouth, I think there’s spiders in my mouth.”

Random abstractions such as this pepper his rapid-fire conversation, like small fireworks fizzing through the dark. Excitable, enthused and sharply alert, if Ten’s energy was visible it would be a shimmering mantle of gold and silver dust. As a dancer, he moves with a sinuous, controlled power that can shift from elegant to explosive on a single beat. As a visual artist, the Bangkok-born, multilingual 25-year-old recently added the title of designer to his growing list of achievements, launching an already sold out collaboration with the bespoke merch platform Represent.

Aptly, he named his collaboration “What is ??? THE ANSWERS”, for although being a chameleonic artist is one of Ten’s greatest strengths, the personality traits that enable this created within him question marks around how he saw himself fitting into the world. “People ask me, ‘What kind of music do you like?’ And I say, ‘I like R&B but hope it sounds rock’. And they’re like, ‘That doesn’t make sense’.” It was troubling to Ten that people began telling him who he was and how he should be, instead of accepting him as is.

In a recent Instagram Live, the myriad of Ten’s contrasts tumble forthwith. He’s the doting cat-dad. His inner emo, who loves rock music, shows off dried roses, with the stern, black, geometric lines of the large tattoo on his inner right arm sometimes visible. But he’s also delicate in a way, with his butterfly tattoo and hair lightly permed, who names daisies as his other favourite flower, and plays Fousheé’s breathy TikTok hit, 'Deep End'.

“Have you seen the image where I have my name in a cross in lots of different languages?” He pulls the image up on his phone. The design sits on his Represent long sleeve tee. “I was thinking [about this], like, what you’re saying... Ten has this luvvie flower side and a very ‘rawwrr!’ side. I’m always like, ‘Ten, what kind of person are you?’ I do ask myself that, too, because everything I like is so different [to the other].” He could have conceded, and reined himself in. He’s pushed back instead. “I thought, ‘I can be anything I want, I can be this in the morning and this at night. I can be any person I want to be’. And that’s what makes me comfortable and happy.”

On his Instagram, Polaroids feature scrawled messages, like “Don’t tell me what to do!” and “Whatever! I’ll do it my way”. The designs of his collaboration seek to challenge being boxed in by other people’s standards, thus limiting ourselves. The recurring symbol of a cross tipped with arrows is a nod to the Chinese letter for 10, but doubles as a plus sign. He’s added it to his Instagram, writing “TEN_+•10” in his bio. “A plus sign can mean that you’re adding on and growing.” He points to another version of the arrow-cross, one with short diagonal dashes between its points that symbolise light. It means, he says, “that I’m radiating. I’m burning, I’m active, I’m doubling myself.” He touches his forearm, where crowning his geometric tattoo is a blazing sun. “I have this, like, if you want to be the light, you have to burn. I relate to that.”

This isn’t to say Ten’s self-exploration is complete. While celebrating his strengths, the artwork also portrays parts of himself not yet conquered. He admits to being a chronic overthinker: “Even very small things that happen to me, I rethink a thousand times, and I get stressed out because of the things I do. Like, the main theme [here] is me overthinking but trying to find an answer even though it doesn’t have any answer.” Fittingly, spiral shapes dominate his designs, looming large amongst bright, bold shapes that evoke 80s Pop Art and graffiti, though Ten shies away from defining himself as “fully an artist, I’m not in the position to say things like that yet.”

“I’m still learning and trying new things. You learn by getting different elements from different people and I’m in that stage now.” He enjoys wandering the infinite halls of Instagram and Pinterest where he screenshots art that he likes, lost in the images, often for hours. He explains that he’s mostly influenced by whatever his current visual obsession is. “I’m interested in tattoos lately so my paintings look like tattoo designs. I’m that person who, when they see stuff, it goes into my brain and instantly comes out from my hands,” he laughs.

Ten’s introduction to art and design was through his mother, who believed music, art and sport were more important in a child’s development than traditional academia. “She didn’t care if I got an A* or not, just don’t get an F or a D,” he grins. Like any kid forced to do something, Ten railed against spending his weekends at art school. He attended but he didn’t draw. He befriended his teacher and other pupils and, as they worked, he chatted. “I was a very talkative kid! When I came to SM Entertainment (in 2013), I had a lot of my own time because my parents were in Thailand and I was alone. I had to absorb all the new culture and adapt to a new environment.’” When he felt surrounded by “negative energy”, he began drawing, enamoured with the space and freedom it offered because in art, as he often says, “there’s no right answer.”

There is, however, sometimes a middle ground. His goal was to make the Represent collection accessible to his diverse fanbase. “I wanted to make things that people can easily wear because it was my first project to make something with clothes and it’s a collab. If you go too far out, no one will get it. If you go too far back, people won’t reach for it. So finding the middle ground is important but that’s the hardest thing to do. If it’s my own project, I’ll be like, ‘I’m the president of this brand, I’m gonna make all the weird clothes that I can imagine!’”

He sought second opinions to ensure his designs landed the way he hoped. “I have a lot of good friends around me - my choreographer, (SHINee and Super M member) Taemin hyung, my manager. I randomly ask people I’m comfortable with and have known for a long time, like Mark (Lee, of NCT and Super M). Mark has the same kind of perspective as me, but I’m a person who is arrghhh!” He waves his hands in the air. “And he’s very calm. I need a person who is opposite of me because when I’m in a mood, I talk nonsense - ‘I wanna do this, I wanna do that, I wanna make this!’ - and Mark’s like,’Bro, calm down’,” he says in a rather uncanny impression of the Canadian-Korean.

Ten works fast when he’s drawing. He has to. He describes his personality as someone who can't wait until the next day to do something. “I’m very impatient,” he smiles. “If I’m going to paint or draw, I’m going to finish it in, like, two hours. I can’t sit down for three hours.” When inspiration hits him, it’s off the back of deep contemplation, sometimes about the mundane - “Like, why do the cats come to me when they’re hungry only? Is it selfish or instinct? - at other times, something affecting him emotionally.

But whereas his job as a singer and dancer sees him project his energy outwards, art offers the opposite. He’s often alone in his room when he works. As is for many artists, the right mood is fundamental. “When I’m in a good mood, I can’t draw,” he half-sighs. It’s also a multi-sensory process. “Smell or the temperature of the room, that really helps me draw. I light three or four candles. And when I draw, it’s kind of heavy, the feeling,” he explains. “It feels like you’re sinking into something, into yourself, and everything seems so small. Everything narrows down into me, my pencil, the paper.”

The more work he does in different creative mediums, the less Ten’s desire is to keep them separate. His art, dance and music influence each other, whether it’s customising his own collaboration pieces, a choreography video in an art gallery or dancing underwater with a film crew. When someone tells him that something won’t work or match up well, he refuses to let the idea go until he’s attempted it.

“I’ve had that since I was young. I think everything is possible. If you don’t try, you don’t know. When people say it’s impossible, like dancing in water for three minutes, I’m like, then let’s make it possible. You don’t need to walk a straight line [in life], you can walk this way,” Ten says, pointing along an invisible line before switching sharply in direction. “Then go back on track, go that way, come back. No one should tell you to walk in a line, I don’t see the point of that.”

© Clash Magazine

#nct #wayv #Ten

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you  think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him. 

                                   < back | masterlist | next >

                                   taglist: @picturethosesmiles​ (open)

#ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji

[whereflowersbloom]

Dum Spiro Spero

The leader of the league of shadows and secrets was watching a beautiful creature bathing in sunlight. Shinning ebony hair catching each breath of early autumn’s glinting sunset, a tendril of her hair catching in the wind as it breaks free from an elaborated braid. Raven was kneeling in the garden, hands working the soil, to bring life, making new life grow. Some moments she stopped to enjoy the autumnal breeze on her face, staring into the distance as if caught in between this world and another.

Looking back Damian never thought he would have this. It had never been an option for him. His life was mostly filled with dangers, blood, threats and uncertainty. Wondering if he would live to see the next sunrise or survive enough to watch the following sunset. His life had been filled with hatred. Hatred towards a parent be believed had abandoned him, an enemy that murdered his loved ones who raised him. He did everything in his power to avenge them but he did not feel satisfaction or any kind of gratification after killing him. No. The emptiness did not fade away.

There were times where he was filled with so much regrets. Regret of rejecting his father and not believing in him, that he cared for him. Regret of the days he spent resenting his adoptive brothers for having the chance of a different life. Regret for not being able to love someone freely. Not until her.

The first time he saw her he couldn’t help but stare in awe. The same day Damian drew in his first breath of Gotham City air.

An eternity could have passed by in the blink of an eye, breath hitched in his throat, eyes quivering with strong emotion, heart hammering in his chest and yet he would have stared at the sight of her the rest of his days. For it was humanly impossible to get his eyes off of her. It was a view he had been starved of for eighteen years.

He stared because she was light.

She was home. Finally.

Porcelain skin, thick locks of raven hair, piercing, unearthly amethysts struck through his soul. And he felt alive, whole.

He had learned an important lesson. Life was too short, shorter if you’re an assassin, it was too precious. You could never waste a second of it, especially with the people closest to your heart. And he made a solemn promise to his family and himself. He decided to live without regret. To take the opportunities that life handed him and most importantly, he swore to himself that even no matter what happened in the past, the terrible things he had done, his faults and mistakes. He deserved to be happy.

That was five years ago.

It was easy to lurk in the shadows of the their house, a petite, cozy cottage close to the league’s headquarters. In the Kunlun mountains he had found a rustic little gem straight out of a Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronté novel, that was how Raven had described it. She had been working on the garden for eight months. There were now fragrant jasmine bushes and two apple trees, one almost completely covered by creamy white climbing roses, clusters of bluebells, foxgloves, pink Hibiscus flowers, pale lavender orchids, and the entire lawn was strewn with white and yellow daisies. In the shadows he knew he would not disturb her reverie. Yet he had been caught, luminous violet eyes wiser than her years cast to where he has hidden with a gentle smile that just pricked the corners of her mouth. “You know I can feel you staring, Damian. The intensity of your emotions is making me go weak.”

Damian couldn’t stop admiring his lover. Because the eyes that followed her were ones brimmed with love, adoration. Stepping into the sunlight, gently he helped her stand up, instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist. “You will never be weak, beloved. Not because of me or anyone.” Words were spoken softly, his other hand reaching to lift a white lily from the blooming bulbs bed and tucking it right behind her ear. Not too far off in the distance the radiant sun continued arching low in the sky reading to say goodbye and allowing the sky to welcome the moon and stars.

One of his long, tanned hands, cupped her face with delicacy, her body aching desperately for his touch. He placed his remaining hand over her chest. She was aware that Damian could feel the rapid pulse of her heart through skin. “Thought you’re stronger than any other living creature in this universe. There is strength in your goodness, as much as there is in steel and fire.” His emerald eyes were filled with so much joy, so much warmth and devotion, it was endless, everflowing.

Raven barely thought she was breathing, willing her unruly heart to ease a fraction, soothe down its beating instead of racing even after all these years together. Damian gently kissed her temple and murmured against her rosy cheek in a low voice that made goosebumps rise on her tender flesh. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

She licked her lips and pretended to think about it for a moment. “Because I said you were insufferable our first meeting.” She teased. As much as his presence annoyed her at first, she had come to feel comfortable around him, safe, content. The feelings she had tried to contain became harder and harder to ignore. Slowly, he carved himself into her heart, something she did not have a name for took root. Every time he saw him, heart fluttered in her chest like a child, and everytime he smiled at her...oh Azar she couldn’t take the clash of ardent emotions. After that something inside her began to loosen, shift, to change. She had been a fool, deceiving herself it was nothing more than friendship.

Everything changed for them and she was infinitely thankful both had put in the effort to help each other overcome their fears. They only required a little push from Dick at the beginning, because both were impossibly stubborn.

Damian chuckled audibly. It was a fascinating sound she thought to herself. His hand trailed along her collarbone, enjoying the smooth texture of her ivory skin, grasping the side of her face. Green orbs bored into violet constellations. He spoke firmly and his features hardened slightly. There was a battle raging behind his green gaze, like he was desperately fighting something inside him. His past. “You did not judge me for my past actions, for the assassin I was raised to be. I was coated in blood, spent my days destroying and taking lives. And yet you found goodness in me.” His deep voice was rough and cracked just a bit.

She had given him five years worth of smiles, laughter, love and so much more. Filling the void inside him after losing his grandfather and mother. She had lifted him up. Damian would never let her go. He refused to. How could he?

“Dum spiro spero.” He breathed, heart thundering in his chest.

He did not have tell her its definition. She knew the meaning of the phrase. She blinked in surprise, her mind automatically translated it. While I breath, I hope.

Interlacing his hand with hers, entwined like a vine to tree, he swallowed hard before continuing. “You are my hope, Raven. When I look at you I see hope.” Raven was this incredible force which had burrowed itself so deeply within him being that there would be no uprooting it. Never.

She found herself voiceless, giving time for his words to sink in. Then she did not have to think about her responses for more than a second. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Raven held his gaze, unwavering, for another minute before speaking. “I know you really look at me and see me for who I am and I hope you know, I will always look at you and I will see someone who despite seeing the worst of it all, is still kind, good, a generous and compassionate soul.”

The raw emotion swimming in his eyes made her want to embrace him for eternity. He loved her. He loved her more than she ever imagined. She felt her own eyes watering, tears running down her cheeks which Damian wiped away with careful motions.

“I would love to be your hope until the end of my days.” She whispered voice thick with emotion, forehead pressed against his. His skin was warmer than hers, she let herself submerge in the lingeringly tender contact. Unable to hold back anymore Damian kissed her ferociously, with starved lips, pouring all his words and feelings into the caress. Squeezing her frame against his, wishing for any distance to vanish, anything that would keep them apart.

“I love you.” He whispered in the most intimate of ways against her mouth.

Damian took her in his arms, carrying her and not wasting time, making his way inside the small cottage. They were two souls in love, hearts beating the same tune, in perfect synchrony.

Happy birthday chromie 🙈🙈🙈❤️❤️❤️

This small oneshot is dedicated to @chromium7sky my closest friend in the fandom.

I hope you all like it though. @tweepunkgrl @alerialblu @andthendk @ravenfan1242 @carnationmilk @bourniebna @srose-foxfire @sofiii

#damirae #demon birds #damian wayne #damian al ghul #raven roth #teen titans #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #slade wilson #ra’s al ghul #talia al ghul #dc fandom #dc universe #creative writing #league of assassins #damian x raven #dum spiro spero

[bookquotes-20]

Broken Chord

Fandom: Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jurdan

Rating: 13+

Warning: Slightly OOC but tons of angsty fluff ;)

For as long as she could remember, all that mattered to Jude Duarte was power. The thought had been forged into her mind, hammered by the innumerable hours of training with Madoc where her only task was to find the advantage. Figure out how to gain the power in the situation, and take it. Take it without mercy, without hesitation. Power was all that mattered in the twisted world she could not stop her heart from calling home. She had spent her whole life without it. People dangled it in front of her, taunting her with displays of superiority she so deeply yearned to return them. Each night, as sleep pulled her under, her final thought would be of revenge. Some day, she’d tell herself, some day I would be the one to hold it all in the palm of my hands. She didn’t know how, she didn’t know when. But she could dream, and dream she would. Dream of fantastical circumstances that turned the wooden sword in her hand to steel sharp enough to gnaw through bone, stain her hilt with rich gold and her blade with deep crimson, worthy of respect. Worthy of admiration. Worthy of fear.

She had it all today. Even if only person knew it. The Puppetmaster. The Kingmaker. The Queen, as the Court of Shadows had taken to calling her. Now, there were days the name felt like a knife twisting in her stomach.

Every day she reveled in the bliss, in the thrum of adrenaline that raced in her veins at her newfound importance. She faced each day with her head high, with a grace and ease that should not have come so easily to a mortal amid regal faeries.

But it was as each day neared its end, that her father’s words would ring in her ears.

Power is far easier to acquire than it is to hold onto.

A lesson best learned by experience, she had seen. She loved her role, her work, her importance. But the sigh she heaved as she entered her chambers when all was done, was a stark reminder of who she was, she truly was. Because at the end of the day, she was still a mortal amongst Fae.

Her breaths come heavier and a dull ache settles into her limbs as she closes the door behind her. Another day, another battle. Hearing days were the most tedious. For hours she stood by the King’s side as folk across the land came to him seeking counsel, mercy, or favors. The benevolent king, of course, simply sat upon his throne with an expression of boredom and a glass of wine in his hands. It was Jude who listened to each word that fell from their lips in search of any trickery or deception they may be trying to place on the king or his kingdom. For hours, her mind raced through infinite possibilities of deceptive intent behind their words, and her fatigue was tangible. Her head pounds furiously and her shoulder slouches. Sluggishly, she makes her way to the modest armoire she had allowed within her room. On autopilot, her hands reach in to pull out a billowy night shirt and comfortable pants. Unfastening Nightfell from its spot at her hip, she places the blade in the corner of the armoire delicately. She has just finished throwing on the her night shirt when she hears a soft knock at her door.

At such a late hour, the number of people who would come to her was short. Had it been the King’s guards or her Court of Shadows the knock would have been of urgency. She opens the door with a sigh, only slightly surprised to see the High King standing at her door.

“What do you want, Cardan?”

She expects to see the same bored boy she had spent the day standing beside, not a man with muscles pulled taut and anger shining in his eyes.

“I hear there was a Counsel meeting today.” His voice is calm, controlled in a way that spells danger. Jude raises an eyebrow.

“And this is of importance to you because?”

“Oh really, Jude,” he drawls, “you weren’t even going to tell me about all the important decisions you made today?” His eyes narrow. “Decisions involving me.”

“I make decisions involving you every day, I don’t see what makes this any different.” Yes she did. The decision she had made today was unlike any she’d made before. Well, with the exception of one. One that had disastrous consequences for her heart and self-control. Cardan moves at her with blinding speed, pinning her between himself and the wall.

“Cut the nonsense, Jude,” he snarls. “You know full well why this is different. You decided to just marry me off. To Nicasia.”

She swallowed. The words felt just as heavy in her ears as they did in her throat when she forced them out in front of the Counsel.

“Yes.” It’s the only word she can come up with. His hand slams against her the wall inches from her head.

“Why?” he growls. She knows he’s restraining himself but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s tired and just wants the day to be over. She wants to be done with this, if only just for a few hours.

“Because it’s the best move for the kingdom.” His eyes darken. He’s not pleased with that answer. “We’re treading dangerous waters between the attack on the Court of Termites and Orlagh’s anger with Elfhame. We can’t find a war on two fronts. We both know that Nicasia has wanted to be your queen for years. She could placate her mother and the alliance would strengthen our image amongst the other courts.” She works hard to force the words out of her mouth. “A union between the land and the sea is not easily ignored, it could quiet all the dissent and doubt amid the lower courts.”

“You forget one thing,” his voice is low as his face nears hers. His breath is hot against her skin. ��I already have a queen.”

Anger ignites her blood, exhaustion forgotten for just a moment.

“Oh really?” her voice is as sharp as her blade, as is her accusation. “Says who?”

His eyes widen in surprise, and his grip on her loosens. “Jude-“

“To whom, am I your queen, Cardan?” She steps forward and he staggers back slightly. “To the entirety of the court, I am still your seneschal. You made sure of that when you laughed me into ridicule at the time of my exile.” It’s her that anger flares at him now. “So what did you expect me to say when the Counsel suggested a perfectly viable way of resolving our political troubles?”

“So you want this?” Accusation laces his words now. “This is what would make you happy?”

She hesitates. Tries to force out the word. Tries to say nothing would make her happier. When did lying to him become hard?

“Yes,” she says. Her voice betrays no emotion; it’s resolute.

“For once, Jude, stop lying.” His eyes close and his brows furrow in frustration. It seems her hesitation betrayed what her voice didn’t.

“What does it matter, Cardan?”

“It would hurt us both.” She ignores the implication of his words.

“So what?”

“Jude.” There’s a warning in his voice. She doesn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter Cardan.”

“Jude.”

“Just do it!”

“I CAN’T!” he roars. “I can’t.” He sounds broken. His eyes are pleading and desperate. “I wish so badly that I could.” He scoffs out a laugh void of humor. It’s a painful sound to hear. It’s a sound filled with pain. Filled with guilt and regret and hatred but laced with surrender. “I don’t know how you do it so easily, I truly do envy you for it. But even for the kingdom’s sake, for even your own sake, I can’t bring myself to purposely hurt you.”

She can’t ignore it anymore. His words. The meaning behind them. The chord between them that has been stretching tighter and tighter for far too long. Silence fills the room. She’s tired. She’s so tired. She’s tired under the heaviness of the armor she wears, the layers upon layers of metal that weigh on her bones. Her exhaustion coaxes a little more truth out of her. Words that would never have spilled from her lips otherwise.

“It’s not easy,” she whispers. She’s turned away from him now, knowing her throat would close if she were facing him. A stubborn tear drops from her eyes but she doesn’t dare wipe it away for fear that the arms she has wrapped around herself are the only thing holding her together. She imagines she’d collapse if they moved, crumble to the floor like a wooden puppet with all its strings cut.

“It’s never been easy to see you in pain. For the entirety of my exile, I spent the day planning countless ways to take your life. To make you pay for ripping me away from everything I loved, from my home. But every night, without fail, I’d wake up screaming from nightmares. I’d watch Madoc attack the palace and steal Oak away. I’d watch Taryn turn Vivi against me. Rob me of the only support I have left. I’d watch the Roach and the Bomb try to fight their way out of a fire and I’d never be able to save them. I’d watch the people I came closest to calling friends called out for me to save them while I could do nothing but watch them burn. And every single time, the last thing I’d see is you.” His breath hitches behind her, the only sound in the room other than the beating of their hearts. The room around them fades away as she loses herself in the macabre scene that had tormented her for months. “I’d watch Madoc drive a sword through your heart. I could never reach you fast enough to stop him, but I’d always be there in time to catch you as you fell. I’d always watch you bleed out in my arms. What you said always changed. Sometimes it would be the cruel words you used when we were kids. Sometimes you’d just repeat my exile sentence over and over and over again. While I sobbed and screamed and begged you not to leave me, you’d repeat over and over how you wanted me as far away from you as possible.” She turns to face him now. He looked haggard, eyes blown wide and breaths coming heavy. “Your pain has always been my worst nightmare. And I lived it every single day.”

His hand comes to the nape of her neck, cupping the back of her head. He tilts it forward and presses his forehead to hers. His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. She can feel his warm breath fan her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” he whispers so softly it's almost lost in the darkness. The request is genuine, she feels it in the way his body trembles faintly against hers. She lacks the strength to speak. She hesitates and can feel his body coil at her silence. She gives the slightest of nods, one he only registers through the touch of their heads. He exhales slowly, the tension seeps slowly out of his body. The hand at her neck softens and he takes a tiny step forward. He pulls her into him, his free hand wrapping around her back, pressing against her skin with nearly painful intensity. As if decreasing the distance between their bodies would decrease the distance between their hearts. Her arms wrap around his torso and she presses her cheek to his chest. Perhaps it will.

He tugs them onto the bed, still holding her against him. She listens to his heart under her cheek. The steady beat is a welcome reminder that the visions weren’t real. They weren’t real.

She repeats the words over and over again in an effort to convince herself. I don’t know if this is real. Or a dream, she thinks. I don’t care — if it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake up; if it’s real, I never want it to end. Her heart finally admits that, at least. Whether my head is brave enough to allow me to embrace the admission, I don’t know. She feels his lips press to her temple.

“You’re here,” he whispers against her skin. He’s trying to convince himself of the fact just as much as she is. “You’re here and I don’t want you to leave. Not again. Never again.” He sounds delirious, repeating the words with a fervor that surprises her. She looks up at him and the sincerity in his eyes takes her breath away. She knows he cannot lie, she knows the words he speaks must be the absolute truth for there is no room for twisting or deception. She sees his very soul in his eyes and is shocked to find no walls. No barriers keeping her out. He lay himself out bare before her, placed his heart in the palm of her heart. He couldn’t know what she would do with it. He did it regardless.

“You’re trusting me with an awful lot Cardan,” she whispered with a lowered gaze.

“I entrusted my heart to you long ago, Jude.” His voice is a low murmur. Her breath catches in her throat. “It seems you simply did not realize it.” He tilts her head up so she meets his eyes. “I trust you just as much right now as I did when I gave you the crown at what turned into my coronation.” The very words he used to fling at her as an accusation now spilled from his mouth with nothing but warmth and sincerity. “Just as much as the day I gave Taryn anything she asked thinking she was you. Just as much as the day I married you.” His thumb swiped away a tear that had strayed from her eye to her cheek. “I trust you with all that I am, Jude.” He smiled at her sadly. “It is up to you to do with it as you please.” She was silent as she kept her eyes fixed on his. She thinks that he must be wondering what she was searching for in the depths of his black orbs. She isn’t searching for him. In his eyes, she is searching herself. Her soul. When it came to Cardan, her head has always been at odds with her heart — she would never come to a decision with either of them. So, she searches for the one thing that could overpower both. Deep within that part of her that had been suppressed for most of her life, subdued by the harshness of her childhood, by the fear of emotion other than rage and pain, of thoughts other than power and vengeance. The visions from her nightmares flash before her. Her heart races and breath freezes and there is her answer. The very thought of life without him shuts down her lungs and the time she spent away from him was spent in crippling pain she hadn’t recovered from in the entirety of her exile.

She tightens her arms around him and presses her cheek to his heart again. “I missed you,” she whispers against his skin. She feels him freeze beneath the tangible weight of her words. “I missed you and I never want to have to again.” A droplet of moisture hits her hair. The air that was caught in his lungs releases slowly. She finally meets his gaze again.

His voice is strangled as he chokes out the word, “Stay.” She brushes her fingers against his cheekbone, wiping away the tear. The metal of her ring scrapes against his cheek. “Please, stay.”

She smiles. His heart skips a beat and he swears it is the most beautiful thing he has seen. “I will, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever,” he says before pulling her mouth to his. He kisses her like he never thought he would get to again. She feels months of yearning in the way his lips move against hers and she can’t help but respond in kind. Her fingers tangle in his soft curls as she pulls him impossibly closer and his arm crushes her to him. They pull apart only when air becomes absolutely necessary and even then he keeps his forehead pressed against hers.

“Jude Duarte,” he whispers, raising her hand and pressing it against his chest right above his heart. “I pledge my heart to you till my dying breath.” Tears prick her eyes again and for once she doesn’t feel ashamed in letting them fall. She brings his hand to her heart as well. He can feel the press of her ruby ring against his hand and his heart races. She’s still wearing it. He feels her heart pick up speed under his touch and it nearly undoes him.

“Cardan Greenbriar, my words may not carry the guarantee of honesty yours do. But I hope you can feel the truth in the beat of my heart when I say, I pledge to you my heart and soul till my dying breath.”

She brushes her lips over his, a feather soft touch. Not of want, not of need, but a promise. The promise of more.

Notes:

This is my first venture into Folk of the Air fanfic after reading so many insanely amazing ones on tumblr and AO3. It’s been a work in progress for weeks and I’m so excited to finally be able to share it!! Please do let me know what you think ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it!!

This takes place somewhere in an altered version of post Wicked King, where Jude comes back from her exile but only Cardan knows they got married and she’s the queen.

Also, a huge thank you to everyone who sent asks!! I’m working on multiple asks simultaneously so I’ll try to have them finished as soon as I can!

Please feel free to send in more, I love having new ideas to ponder and try to write. I’ll try my best to write them! (I really mostly write for Shatter Me and Folk of the Air).

Thank you lovelies ❤️

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #book quotes #booklr #booklover #love #books #fic #jurdan fic #fanfic #I love this ship so much #my beautiful babies

[rosecolouredmind]

Savior

Nicholas Scratch x Reader

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Part One:

The Beginning

Somehow, it felt like the fates didn’t think much of you.

You were lucky enough to be the youngest soul inducted into the Stela Consulate — your untimely death on your home planet was a quiet, humble affair. The fates took you young, by sickness; your family mourned, then moved on. Your parents grieved for longer, but then they too moved on with their lives.

Fate had a larger destiny in store that what Earth could have afforded you; or, at least you thought before...now.

“Stela Treis, I...Earth cannot be my assigned domain.”

The following silence in the room was palpable. Above you was what looked to be a seat made of live stars, gaseous and glowing. The platform below it was an endless black, along with the surrounding room.

You had just seen the stars from this same “chair” slowly spread across the now dark platform, your body seated atop it just moments before. The Stela Council had observed quietly as countless galaxies traversed beneath their feet, beneath your feet. You’d waited for this moment for what you felt, and were told, was your entire existence. You felt as if you were human again, insecurity and discomfort culminating into a massive pit in your stomach. You were convinced that if you could have, you would have shat yourself.

Whenever a new stela sat atop that chair, the fates mapped their destiny...and subsequently, the destiny of their star domain. You felt as if you had become one with the universe, the powers that be imbuing you with strength and purpose.

Your purpose.

Was...Earth?

The pretty blue object before you certainly looked familiar, the green colored earth standing out proudly. This unassuming planet was where you’d come to be, thus your learnings were centered around it’s history. Earth was not yet to the level of requiring an assigned stela as it has not reached the level of interfering with other cosmos; interplanetary travel within their own solar system was still far out of reach, for Fate’s sake! So how could your homely little birthplace have put itself on the map after billions of years of not even being a blip on the radar?

And smack above it was a brilliant green star. The North star had turned green.

“Head Stela Treis. That cannot be a - an unlucky star! Above Earth! How did I even get Earth?! Isn’t the likelihood of being assigned your home planet like one in a -- a -- an impossibility?!”

The blasted woman continued to ignore you, staring fixedly at the North star — Polaris. There were many iterations of the importance of the North star in Earthling history, but they all had the same general concept and meaning for what the star represented:

Home. A Guiding Light.

And such a symbol was currently heralding the dark days.

“Stela (Y/n),” Stela Treis began slowly.

This damned woman actually used your name, your actual name with your title, and your heart finally sunk to the floor. Stela (Y/n). You were Stela (Y/n) of fucking Earth with a goddamn green star hanging above it --

“Stela (Y/n) of Earth. This is your mission,” she continued.

Every eye in the room was on Treis, the massive throng of alarmed voices quieting down. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest, and you were sure your face was a picture of horror. No new stela had ever taken over a green star before; it signaled the end of days for a domain and was nigh impossible to get rid of. Stelas who have had a history of leading turbulent domains to an unprecedented era of peace are generally reassigned green star domains -- much more seasoned and powerful stelas than you. And even amongst those figures, only a tiny amount across countless systems have actually succeeded in rehabilitating such a star. Darkness wins far more often, enveloping those systems in black holes, stellar explosions and obliteration.

It was a glorious thing to save a green star, but if you failed…

“Earth is in...trouble. I cannot yet tell what of, as the coming ominous lies beyond the domain still. It’s origin star has turned green, but there’s also a few more stars in your domain that concern me.”

Hearing Earth officially called your domain made you want to puncture your own eardrums in annoyance, but the serious look on Treis’ face and the clear discomfort of the councilmembers surrounding her made you swallow your indignation and elect to glare at the floor instead.

You’d spent your entire existence once inducted into the consulate learning the conflicts of Earth - something about learning on home ground and how it prepared you for your own domain some day. And now that day has come, and you learn that you’re going to be stuck in the same exact place?

It may be willful, but you were eager to prove yourself capable like every other accomplished stela. This included establishing yourself and your influence in new territory, your territory. The glory of your domain would rise and fall with you.

You had wanted to prove yourself, but this…

This terrified you.

The moving of the constellations beneath your feet once again snapped you out of your train of thought, the stern voice you’d previously been drowning out floating into your ears once again.

“This particular star seems to have been the beginning of it all. And even more peculiar is what it’s attached to -- or what’s attached to it,”

Treis had brought the map deeper into your star domain, finally stopping on a bright red star.

“Is that a star of misfortune?!” you shriek. Your eyes are wide as saucers, and normally you’d melt under the looks of disapproval you were receiving but right now you were too stunned to care. A bloody star of misfortune was the cause of all of this, one person! That was the brightest red you’d ever seen on a star, and you’d seen the stars of plenty of terrible figures in history.

The deep frown on Treis’ face said it all, the woman walking forward until she stopped right in front of you. She stared you dead in the face, placing her arms behind her back before responding.

“That is the star of Lucifer Morningstar.”

The hall burst into noise once again as voices started to raise and people clamoured over each other. Shouts of dissent rang out as everyone in the room voiced their opinions.

How could this have happened?

She’s not ready!

That entire domain is doomed!

Fate has abandoned them.

Disapproval was clearly the common theme the council had decided on, but you were too distracted with the prior revelation to properly acknowledge it.

Lucifer Morningstar had a fated star.

The fucking Devil.

Every soul was born with a fated star. Your star was fate’s marker on you. The only beings without fated stars were celestial beings and the Others - beings who operated outside of the universe’s workings. How celestials came into existence exactly was a mystery. Stelas generally believed it was the power of faith, though. In even looser, and probably more correct terms: ‘believe, and it certainly exists.’ Faith was a medium that didn’t operate within the confines of fate. Major celestials bore from Earth include any figure that has been immortalized via faith. Once borne of the world, they operate entirely on their own and outside of fate. An extreme example would be the elusive figure the humans frequently call God -- the current most powerful example of a celestial born from faith. These can even influence the fate of those in their domain.

This goes to say, even if Earth was not particularly advanced, a stela would have still been assigned to oversee it. But humans are passionate and complicated and a lot more stubborn than most races, which meant an unusual abundance of celestial beings were born from there. Because they operate outside of fate’s laws, their domains are usually hidden from the Constellation Map. This is the first time since humanity appeared on Earth that the planet has been seen on the map, a momentous occasion.

And it was assigned to a newbie like you.

“How on...earth did Lucifer Morningstar get a star? Shouldn’t that be impossible? He’s a celestial, he doesn’t have a tangible soul,” you exclaim.

“He didn’t.” she corrected. “But now…” she gestured to his star as you stared dumbly at the bright red light between you. After focusing your gaze, you can just make out a dim, faintly flickering light at the corner of it.

“Is that someone’s star?” you ask softly, moving closer. The star was barely visible, as if all the lifeforce had been drained from it. The red light from Lucifer’s star nearly made you overlook the pale white glow this one gave off, the two being infinitely close.

“This is the star of a regular person, isn’t it? Why does it seem attached to Lucifer’s? And its lifeforce seems young but very, very weak…” you trailed off. Something about this star called out to you, intense feelings of pity and nurturing washing over you. Your instincts wished to nurse this star, this person, back to the bright light you just knew it would have been. You can tell a lot about a person through their fated star, and you didn’t need to look too deeply to tell that this one was special. So how did it end up in this position?

“You are going to find that out,” a sharp voice rang out. You didn’t bother finding its source, beyond irritated with the situation already. This was the first time another councilmember had spoken this entire time, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes back into your skull. They were criticizing your ability only moments before, but now expected you to play detective to a catastrophe caused by an actual celestial being?

“They are right. For now, this is still your assigned domain, and the fates must have had a reason for it. You are to find the source of this issue, starting with Lucifer. Have a word with him; we will project you to his location.”

“Before my ceremony?!”

“Will will arrange the details of your ceremony later. Until then, we shall deliver you directly to your destination.”

This was not how your domain assignment was supposed to go, you thought bitterly.

It was no secret how shitty you felt about the situation, but the heavy looks of distrust the rest of the council members were sending you as you approached the center of the Constellation Map had you seething. They didn’t believe you could handle it, hell, you didn’t believe you could handle it! But…

You were always a prideful thing.

At the beckoning of Stela Treis, you slowly reached your hand out before you to touch the bright red star in the center of the room. As reality warped around you, you heard warbled words of encouragement leaking through before everything went black.

And then, all you saw was RED.

*

Part Two: The Morningstar will be posted approximately 30 minutes from this one. Stay tuned!

Author’s Note: This story was originally on one of my side blogs, @unaccomplishedwriter. This account was made to post my content with the full site functions available for use unlike the previous blog. The entire story will be reedited, reposted, and continued here.

Please ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list. Thank you!

#the chilling adventures of sabrina #CAOS #Nick Scratch x Reader #Ambrose x Reader #Prudence x Reader #CAOS x reader #x reader #Sabrina Spellman #Sabrina #Sabrina Morningstar #Nicholas Scratch #Nicholas scratch x reader

[maplecornia]

chapter 31

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬��𝔫𝔱: 1.26K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo | @cana | @canarystwin

Opening the door to your apartment, you sigh.

It was a long day. The photoshoot lasted longer than you expected, and you didn't even get a chance to reprint your schedule. It was for the best though, you supposed. Namjoon didn't need you to do much of anything else besides assist him while he set up to get some work done.

Biting your bottom lip, you try not to feel guilty that you left him all alone. He said he needed no distractions, but you pray he doesn't pull an all-nighter. Knowing him, however...Glancing down at your phone, you wince at the week's schedule Mr. Sejin gave to you before leaving. He told you that getting a daily schedule would be tedious, and informed you that weekly schedules would be sent to you every Sunday.

As for this week...

They have hardly any free time, especially Namjoon. Filled to the brim with practices, photoshoots, and interviews...you can't imagine what it'd be like when promotions start. He really shouldn't be pulling all-nighters nowadays, he needs to rest now to prepare for the workload that will come his way.

You scoff.

Who are you kidding? Namjoon won't be likely to do that. He's the type to pour out every last of his waking spirit into his work. Even if you did go back to help, you'd probably be in the way. Not to mention the fact he wouldn't listen to a word you say.

Shaking your head, you wonder if your mother felt the same way when she was raising you.

Studying all night, practicing until your voice was sore or you couldn't dance anymore, pushing yourself to the very limit, preparing for your dream...

Swallowing hard, you push the thought out of your mind.

You don't have time for guilt.

Slipping out of your shoes, you advance, locking the door tightly behind you. In the corner of your mind, you wonder if Sunoh is sleeping already. Glancing at the clock, you roll your eyes. If he wasn't, he'd be crazy.

3 am already?

Reminds you of the times you would write till the wee hours of the morning. Creating countless stories and adventures, different worlds and different people, trying to find a way to escape when you had nowhere else to run. When was the last time you were inspired to even pick up a pencil much less write?

"I hate being alone." You murmur, rubbing your face. "I always think too much."

Setting your satchel on the counter island, you empty its contents and come across the contract. Freezing, you slowly pull it out and stare at it.

This is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

Taking it to the table, you pull out a chair and carefully set it down.

It couldn't hurt to read through, could it?

You wonder why you are so afraid. What he did wasn't even something to be worried about. But when the one you cherish the most tells you you'll never make it, that you aren't talented enough...

He heard your voice and called it mediocre, amateur, and told you to find a new dream. Told you to give up on something you would never succeed at. Told you everything you worked so hard for was worthless. It was unrealistic, it wasn't worth trying.

You'd never make it anyway.

You weren't nearly as pretty enough to fit their standards.

You weren't perfect enough to pass their expectations.

You weren't made for the dream, so you shouldn't be given the chance to achieve them.

Groaning, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, you try to ignore everything you wish to hold back, but you can't.

How?

How could they see that you were worth something?

Obviously, you aren't worth that much, obviously, you aren't that special...

"Why are you hesitating?"

Remembering what Suga said, you wonder at the question yourself.

This is supposed to be your dream, you are supposed to hold onto it no matter what others tell you. No matter what people may think. It's something that's made to be eternal, that won't give up as long as you don't give up either.

Are you afraid?

"Yes. I'm terrified."

But why are you terrified? Why can't you forget the past?

"What if he's right? What if I'm not cut out for this?"

So are you afraid of what others think?

"No."

Then what is it?

You think of everyone who is counting on you, their high expectations. What they are risking for you. You think of the people who came before you, how hard they tried for this chance, just so they can achieve a dream they may never get. You think of your mother, who lost the very same dream and could never achieve it.

What is holding you back?

"What if I let them down?" you whisper softly, as a tear finally escapes its blockade and lands on the very same contract you've been holding in your hands.

You've dreamed of this. Receiving your first contract and signing with a company, ready to become a trainee, ready to be the singer; the performer you've always wanted. You've imagined the scenario in your head, acted it out many times over and over again. This was supposed to be a happy moment, the moment when all your hard work meant something. The moment when you finally took the next step towards your goal.

Inwardly, you want to scream in joy. You want to cry from happiness. But that fear, that blockade of terror, that is the one thing that holds you back.

What if when you finally let go, when you allow yourself to be happy again, it's ruined?

I gave everything to you.

"Shut up."

But you threw it away.

"Stop."

And for what? A dream that will never find its way out of your head?

"You're not here."

It's worthless hoping for something that can never happen.

"You don't know that."

Do you want to be worthless?

"You don't get to dictate my life."

Biting your lip, turn the final page of the contract, and find the dotted line. A line that will sign your life away. A line that holds every dream, every wish, every hope you've gathered in your small wish to be an idol. To sing on the stage, to perform and touch the world with your music.

Your world.

Finding a pen amongst the confines of your satchel, you put the tip gently to the paper and sign your name.

You smile once you do, and hold your hands to your face.

Letting out a small shriek, you let your excitement take control of your body and you allow the euphoric feeling of happiness to spread throughout you. You push back the feelings of doubt, the paralyzing helplessness of terror. For now, that doesn't matter. At this moment, those feelings aren't important.

Who cares about what's to happen in the future?

Would you rather be held back because of things you can't control?

No, this is your choice. This is your life.

You make the choice, no one else can make it for you.

At the harsh ringer of the phone, you jump. Startled, you turn to it from where it sits on the counter and check the caller ID.

One step at a time right?

That's all it takes to be okay again.

To move on.

Maybe it's time you talked to her.

Setting the pen down, you pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before accepting the call.

"Hi, Mom."

she finally called her mom! question, on a scale of 1-10 how angry would your guys' mom be if you ghosted her for this long? 0.o cuz mine would disown me for the longest time.

chapter 32 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

#{infinite stars} updated! #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction series #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kim taehyung #ot7 #ot7 fanfic #bts ot7 #bts ot7 fanfic #wattpad #wattpad writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #bts x reader #bts x female!reader #writer #bts fluff #bts angst #fluff #angst #series #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop

[ca-8]

Zuko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

She could get in so much trouble.

No disciplined, sane child would ever dare to sneak out at night, especially those with parents who act like the most important people to have ever existed. Parents who always expected their children to be well-behaved, respectful, quiet, and incredibly boring for every second of their life. Parents who don't have a clue of what relaxation meant, even if some sort of high-class professor gave them a month-long lecture about it.

Basically the kinds of parents (Y/n) was so sick of.

The nine-year-old bit her bottom lip as she ever so carefully pulled the door to the beach house shut. Once she was sure no one had woken up and was on their way to give her another five-hundred-hour lecture on her ‘ignoble’ actions (whatever that meant), she snuck down the stairs and dashed toward the direction of the beach. 

‘Is it this way? Or was it the other way?’ she questioned. She forgot, and her mind wouldn’t let her remember. Her heart was racing; she had never done something this audacious. If her parents had already woken up and discovered that the pillows under her covers were not her, she’d be better off being alone with a fully grown dragon while covered in the finest jewels. 

And yet, at the first sight of the moon just barely hanging over the ocean as its light painted a shimmering white streak over the water, she instantly abandoned the worry. Here, on the quiet, isolated beach, she was free.

(Y/n) took off her shoes, and her toes instantly sunk into the cool sand. Her eyes scanned the beach, from the giant rocks asserting an aura of dominance, the tranquil ocean reflecting the twinkling stars that partnered the moon, and instantly to the lone turtle crab. 

A wide smile spread across her face, and she quietly approached her favorite animal. It stood at the end of the ocean line, gazing up at the stars. Something tightened inside of her; it looked so...lonely. 

“Hello!” she greeted, perhaps a bit too loudly than she intended, when she bent over it, suddenly covering its view. The turtle crab jumped and shrunk back a little in its shell, though (Y/n) still could see its upside-down face. 

“Why're you by yourself? Where're your friends?” she asked, jumping down beside it and making sand fly all over her pajamas. It stared back at her, then ever so slowly emerged from its shell. (Y/n) gasped. “Do you not have any?”

The turtle crab only blinked in response. “That’s terrible!” she exclaimed. "Buuuut then again, I don’t have any either, so… Hey, why don’t the two of us be friends?” She got on her knees, and the turtle crab’s only view was her giant smile. It blinked again, not saying yes, but also not saying no. 

“Great!” she cheered, embracing her new friend. Though a turtle crab wasn’t really her original ideal friend, every single kid she met proved themselves to be the most stuck-up, boring, rude people in existence, so maybe this was the better option. “So what’s your name?”

She immediately felt stupid when it didn’t, or, rather couldn’t, respond. “Ehehe, right, uh, you can’t talk,” (Y/n) realized. “But don’t worry, I can give you a name! What abooouuuttt….” The young girl scanned the animal for a quick moment before saying, “Misterrr...Snapper?”

It stared right at her, the moonlight reflecting off of its black eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She got up and bowed respectfully to the small creature, just like how her mother taught her whenever they approached someone important. “Nice to m-I mean, my name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Snapper.”

She glanced at the turtle crab again and let out a soft laugh, then carefully picked it up and put it on her head. Her stomach flipped, and she couldn’t help but envision how loud her mother would be when she’d tell her to get it off her head. But, for now, she put the thought aside and focused on being glad it didn’t panic and run off. 

“You’re weird,” she giggled, “I like you, Mr. Snapper. Now, what should we play tonight?”

The night always seemed to last forever, so (Y/n) and Mr. Snapper could do whatever they wanted without anyone saying otherwise. When the moon would lose the war over the sky with the sun, it could be the second she’d stop running around the entirety of Ember Island. 

But doing that seemed pointless. And Mr. Snapper didn’t look like the type to enjoy marathons or running in general anyway. 

“I know!” (Y/n) abruptly exclaimed, making Mr. Snapper bounce on her head. She gazed up, expecting to see his curious eyes, but only obtained the sight of the twinkling stars. “What do you think about being the Dark Water Spirit?” 

~

“He...He’s gone,” (Y/n) whispered in the deepest voice she could make, staring dreamily at the ocean line where the moon had almost touched the water. She glanced back at her princess, Mr. Snapper, who stood silently with the white shell on his head. She didn’t know why she expected him to say his lines in a high-pitched, princess-y voice. 

“Yes, this glorious land is finally free from the Dark Water Spirit,” the young noble said, moving Mr. Snapper in a way that made him appear as if he were talking in the high voice she was doing for him. “And now, we can be together, Noren.”

(Y/n)/Noren picked him up and stared into her mortal girlfriend’s eyes as huskily as she could (she also tried not to burst out laughing when she thought about it). “I never thought I’d fall in love with a mortal, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you, Yua.” 

Mr. Snapper/Yua blinked, the moonlight reflecting off of his/her eyes. The shell began to fall off his/her head and (Y/n)/Noren fixed it quickly. “Does that mean you’re going to stay mortal? I can’t exactly marry a dragon, you know,” Mr. Snapper/Yua “said”. 

“Hm, let’s just say you’ll be seeing the best of both worlds. Now kiss me, Empress!” Yua and Noren gazed into each other’s eyes for a blissful eternity, and they slowly leaned into the moment of affinity. Their lips were close, even though Yua seemed to be pulling away for some reason, and then-

“Um, what are you doing?” 

(Y/n)’s soul was yanked out of Noren’s body and forcefully transported back onto Ember Island. Inches away from her face was no longer Empress Yua, but Mr. Snapper without his crown. And standing a few feet away from them was none other than Prince Zuko. 

The Prince of the Fire Nation was here. He was standing right there. Staring at the daughter of a lowly noble as she was about to kiss a turtle crab.

Had the air only turned unbearably hot and heavy to her or did something set the moon on fire? 

“Nothing,” she answered immediately in Noren’s voice. (Y/n) cleared her throat, mumbled an “I mean”, quickly held Mr. Snapper by her side, then put on the most innocent smile she could muster. “Nooothing,” she said in a voice much higher than it was supposed to be.

The Prince stared at her like she was standing on water and speaking three different languages all at once. “O...kay…” he said slowly. 

'Who taught you to talk in such an absurd way to the Prince?' her mother's voice suddenly echoed within her mind. 'Fix your posture and throw away that ridiculous smile. And please, dear, speak NORMALLY.'

“S-SO!” she yelled, making him jump and instantly breaking every one of mind mother's rules. “What’re you doing here? On this beach? That my, uh, family bought? I think? Cause you, uh, have your own beach, cause you’re a prince, a-and...um…” Her smile widened despite her infinitely growing urge to bury herself as deep into the ground as possible and hide there forever.

“This is actually my family’s beach,” he said with eyes knowing this was the dumbest girl on the planet. “You’re the one not supposed to be here.”

'Once again, you're acting like an embarrassment to our family,' mind mother muttered.

Everything inside her twisted and tightened and told her to run. Though there were tsunamis of embarrassment hitting her relentlessly, there were also tiny ripples of realization. “Huh, so that’s what that sign meant when it said ‘Prince Ozai’s Beach’,” (Y/n) commented. 

The Prince winced. “What? Are you-?”

Her eyes widened as they caught the animal he held in his arms. “IS THAT A TURTLE CRAB?” she shouted, then ran up to the boy and bent down to get a better look at the other turtle crab. Prince Zuko jumped back and hissed at her to be quiet, and her instincts told her to bring back the courtesy for him she had just thrown out the window. However, she only inched closer because LOOK AT THAT ADORABLE LITTLE FACE HOW DID SHE NOT NOTICE IT EARLIER?

"Awww, so cuuuute!" She reached out to pet it, but it sank back in its shell. Mind mother sighed, creating a tiny hint of guilt inside her. 

"H-Hey!"

(Y/n) looked up at the nine-year-old Prince, glancing back at the turtle crab every few seconds. "Keep your voice down or else you'll wake up the whole island!" Prince Zuko whisper-shouted. 

She stood up, cocking her head, then caught a glimpse of the turtle crab again. "What're you doing with it anyway?" 

"Um…" He glanced down at the turtle crab. "N-None of your business!" he insisted hurriedly with a hint of pink on his face.

She squinted her eyes at him, and the stern look in his onyx pupils faded away to the same confusion from earlier, then discomfort when more quiet seconds had passed. "You're...here because Miss Green broke into your room but you couldn't keep her there so you brought her back to shore because you wanted to make sure she made it back home safely!" (Y/n) took in a large breath, filling her almost-empty lungs.

The Prince stared back at her with widened, bewildered eyes. "...Who?" he said. 

"Your turtle crab's name! I named it that because it reminds me of my first teacher, Mrs. Red, but since it has a green shell, well, you know. Also, totally off-topic, but have you noticed that red and green go so well together? I've been getting into sewing lately, and I was thinking that Ms. Green and Mr. Snapper, that's my turtle crab's name, by the way, could have red and green sweaters! Wouldn't that be adorable?" 

He said nothing. He didn't exactly look angry, but not really pleased too.

Her smile dropped, then she giggled nervously. "Sorry, I'll stop talking. A-And you don't have to call it that if you don't want to! Or name it at all! I-I was just-"

The Prince went against his fear of being caught as he let out the loudest laugh (Y/n) ever heard.

Her entire body felt like it had been engulfed by every firebender's element. Her family might as well have formed a crowd around them with their disapproving gaze. 'Maybe Mr. Snapper can help me start a new life under my bed,' she thought as she gazed at her feet.

"You're weird," the Prince suddenly said, chuckling. 

(Y/n) snapped her gaze up at him and saw his weirdly relieved smile. "Oh, thanks!" she said, feeling her own smile curl upon her lips. She wasn't one hundred percent sure if he really meant that as a compliment, but his face didn't hold any signs of mockery. 

Her stomach did a backflip. Was the Prince, one of the most important people ever, being...kind of nice to her?

Prince Zuko laughed again, then after a quick moment, his face went back to being serious. "Um, please don't tell anyone I'm doing this, okay?" he said.

(Y/n) beamed and nodded. She stood in silence for once while Prince Zuko sighed, walked over to the edge of the water, then placed the turtle crab on the rolling water. 

Mr. Snapper wiggled out of her arms and crawled over to Ms. Green. Zuko stepped back until he was next to (Y/n), and the two animals stood together facing the moon with their claws just barely touching. 

"Ah, that's so adorable!" (Y/n) squealed. "It's like Yua and Noren!"

Zuko turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "You know about Love Amongst The Dragons?"

The girl gasped dramatically, swiftly putting her gaze on him. "Know it? I'll have you know that I've memorized every single line of that play!" she said, holding her head high with pride. "I can perform every character at any time! In fact, I was doing just that before you interrupted my final act." 

'You do realize you're still talking to someone much more important than you, right dear?' mind mother whispered. (Y/n)'s grin was wiped off her face along with most of her pretension. 

Surprisingly, he didn't look offended. "That's my favorite play, too," he said with a hint of enjoyment on his face. "Was that why you were about to make out with your turtle crab?"

She blushed furiously and pouted, averting her eyes. "M-Maybe…and his name's Mr. Snapper..."

Prince Zuko chuckled again and after a moment of weirdly comfortable silence, a frown appeared on his face. "Hey, I need to head back. And you should go in case the guards kick you out."

"...Th-There are guards here?" (Y/n) whispered. She ran over and fiercely hugged Mr. Snapper, then went back over to him, her voice slightly increased. "Why didn't you say so?!" 

He smiled the most carefree grin in the world. "I thought you knew, since you're on my dad's beach."

"Well, it was nice meeting you Prince Zuko, but now I need to figure out how to escape before my parents have to get me out of prison." She quickly bowed, her heart fluttering at the sound of the Fire Lord's grandson enjoying her joke (hopefully it stayed like that). 

"Wait!" he suddenly called.

She was beginning to run back to the beach house when he did. (Y/n) turned around and said, "Yes?"

"Um," he started, hesitating. The young girl cocked her head; someone like him shouldn't be nervous about talking to someone like her. If anything, she should still be the one hesitating and worrying about what to say. "What's your name?" he finally asked. 

She flashed a grin as the moon began to lower into the light pink sky. "(Y/n), Your Majesty." Before he could respond, she ran off the beach as fast as she could, hoping to see her parents still asleep within the beach house.

#atla #x reader #kinda cringe #cartoons #nickelodeon #avatar zuko #fanfiction #lol idk

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Ranking

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Food mention. Possible secondhand embarrassment trigger.

Author’s Note: Fluffy stuff. 

You had never been one for rag mags - celebrity gossip is simply uninteresting at best and horribly cruel at worst - but the bold headline this week on People Magazine catches your eye as you absentmindedly place your groceries on the belt at the supermarket. 

“Seriously?” you mutter incredulously, your fingers wrapped around a bottle of orange juice. 

Is it worthy of a chuckle? Should you keep moving, pretend you didn’t see it? Or... and you can’t believe this thought has even occurred to you... would it be worth the six bucks to bring it back to the compound and share with the rest of the team? The options occupy too much of your brain space as the cashier tells your total, distracting you from the inane tug-of-war in your head. 

“How much?” you say, shaking away the silly predicament for a moment. 

The cashier, hardly older than 16 it seems, points at the screen instead of answering. Before you pay, however, you glance back at the magazine, finally coming to a decision. 

--

The magazine slaps the counter top, its glossy front page gleaming as you unload the rest of the groceries; it gets lost in the vegetables and fruits, the cereals, the junk food... and for a while you forget it.

"Back with the grub, eh, Y/N?" Tony says, swiping up a bag of Doritos and popping it open. "I gotta say, you've done shopping trips quicker than that."

You laugh, gathering all the reusable bags into one and putting them away and say, "Maybe you should don your supersuit and fly over all the New York City traffic if you want it quicker.”

"I believe that would be an unnecessary trip," Bruce mentions from the kitchen table, sipping his tea. 

“Hey, I offered to send someone out to do it,” he replies. “You insisted on doing it yourself, remember? If I recall correctly,” he continues, feigning concentration as he puts on a teasing mocking tone, “you said that you didn’t want to let the fact that you’re an Avenger now make you too... what was the word.... bougie.”

“At least one of us needs to be grounded, Tony.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve as he passes, a subtle smile on his face when he meets your eye; your tummy flutters, having nothing to do with the hunger pang you’re feeling and everything to do with the way Steve’s eyes sparkle in the soothing lighting of the kitchen. You smile back, hoping the burn in your cheeks is obvious to no one but yourself. 

One by one, the team trickles into the kitchen, looking for a lazy Sunday lunch or ingredients for a post-workout smoothie. Your voices mingle together, a pleasant hum in the early afternoon of a rare mission-free, drama-free weekend. 

Or so you thought. 

"I'm not number one?!"

The incredulous shout draws every eye in the room; Tony sits on the counter, eyes wide as he stares into the open magazine in his hand. You giggle, turning back to your lunch, relieved to know you don't have to live with his over-inflated ego for the next century.

"What are you on about?” Thor says, looking up almost mid-bite. 

“This,” Tony replies, shaking the magazine; he flips through the pages, apparently intent on finding his ranking. “It’s the Top 10 Sexiest Male Superheroes, and I’m... not even second... I’m... how am I fifth?”

At this point, you bite your knuckle to keep from bursting aloud with laughter. You lock eyes with Steve, who mirrors your amusement.

“Lang is ahead of me? Are you serious? He’s a goddamn ant! An actual bug!”

“Who’s number one?” Natasha inquires after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

Tony looks up, annoyed or crestfallen, you can’t tell. 

“Thor, of course,” he answers with a shrug. “Can’t beat a demigod, I guess.”

Thor jumps up from his chair, his arms raised in victory, Clint giving him a congratulatory high five. The kitchen descends into loud chatter, and after many demands to know the full list, Tony gives the magazine up to Natasha, who reads off the ranking. 

“Cap,” she says with a nod to him. “Good job, you’re second.”

“What?” he laughs; if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was humility that makes him say it. There’s no chance that his ranking would go to his head.

“It’s gotta be the beard,” Clint laughs. “Otherwise you would’ve been eighth or worse.”

“It’s definitely more than the beard,” you answer.

Biting your tongue might have been the better option, as now you find yourself the center of some very intrigued attention. Perhaps your tone was a little too defensive, or the blush that certainly feels infinitely hotter now has finally caught flame on your cheeks. Whatever it was that garnered such smirks from around the table, whatever your intentions, your immediate wish is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Care to elaborate on that, Y/N?” Tony asks, seeming to forget his fifth place ranking for a moment in favor of someone else’s total humiliation.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your food, bereft of your hunger. 

“Well,” you begin. “Maybe it has a lot to do with the way he carries himself, you know? There’s a lot of dignity there, a lot of virtue. He’s respectful and honest, stands up for what he believes in. He’s definitely not hideous, either. You know... he’s a - ”

“Y/N,” Steve says, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s really sweet of you, of course, and I do appreciate it, but - “

“No, Cap,” Tony interrupts. “I think we should let Y/N keep going.”

Your throat closes in panic and you clear it again, getting to your feet as you say, “I’m actually just gonna go.... uh... make a phone call. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Steve chastises Tony as the rest of the team breaks into discussion, but you don’t hear any of it. Soon, you’re in the elevator, bumping your head against the wall over and over, wondering if it’s too soon to pack your bags and leave the team with no notice as to where you’ve gone. You barely register your surroundings until you enter your room, locking the door behind you and requesting that FRIDAY ensures that you remain undisturbed until further notice. 

---

Each time your knuckles meet the leather of the punching bag, your mind gets a little clearer. It’s almost as if all the big and little things plaguing your thoughts settle on the surface of your fists, only to be smashed to pieces when you punch. The nervous energy that settled in you at lunch drives your fists forward, burning off into nothing with every movement you make. 

Midnight was the perfect time to sneak into the gym, to get a workout in without anyone bothering you; everyone usually slinks off to do their own things a little earlier in the evening. Perhaps some have fallen asleep by this time. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing as long as they weren’t around to say anything to you about Steve.

“Y/N?”

Then again... sometimes you’re wrong. 

You halt in your activity, breathing heavily and dreading turning to look at Steve. Your hands drop to your sides as you pluck up your courage, facing the man with a deep breath.

“Hey,” you reply as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his eyes fix on yours, drawing you into their depths as usual as he slowly approaches you. “Can we talk?”

The pit in your stomach grows exponentially, making you regret ever leaving your room in the first place.

“We don’t have to,” you answer quietly. “It’s just a silly magazine. It’s not like it’s about anything important, right?”

Facing the bag once more, you resume your activity, hoping against hope that Steve just leaves it there, that he doesn’t press the matter. The very last thing you want to do is spill your guts about what you thought was just a casual crush to the very man you’re crushing on. You hadn’t expected to become so flustered in such a situation, but with the spotlight on you at lunch, it had really sunk in just how much you feel for him. 

“Y/N,” he continues, but you evade him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, deciding to give up your workout for the night and hit the showers; he’d never follow you there. 

Before you can get too far, though, he says, “That’s why you’re running away from me, right?”

The anger is a surprise, bubbling up as you turn on your heel; perhaps it’s your shield in this moment, a veil to wear to save face. 

“Don’t push it, Cap,” you insist, making one more attempt at escape. Again, however, you’re stayed by his response.

“You’re definitely not hideous, either,’ he says, and you turn to face him once more; he stands there, wringing his hands, an earnest expression on his face. “You’re funny, and whip smart, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. There’s compassion and a goodness that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time.”

Perhaps you’ve hit your head and you’re dreaming this. Maybe there’s a chance you inadvertently ingested some kind of hallucinogen at an enemy’s lair. Whatever it is, there is no way that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, singing your praises like this. Not in the real world. Never once had you imagined the feelings reciprocated, so this must be a figment of your deepest desires.

“What?” is all you manage to say.

Steve’s brows knit over the bridge of his nose, desperation threading through every feature on his face.

“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t fall for you, can you?” he asks gently. “That I haven’t noticed you? Y/N, you’re almost the only thing I notice anymore.”

"Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed during a mission."

You didn't mean to say it, and the moment solidifies around you, even the molecules in the air coming to a stand still. Steve’s eyes sparkle, blinking in slow motion as he moves forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a sweet smirk. 

“What a way to go, then,” he says, within reaching distance of your hand. 

“So much for our selfless leader,” you giggle.

He hesitates for a moment, but when you move to offer your hand, he reaches out with his, his fingers curling around yours. The blue in his eyes glints in the low light of the gym, hinting not a single bit of insincerity. 

“There is something wrong with your ranking, though,” you say after a moment, amused at the almost-surprise in his expression as he straightens his posture.

“What do you mean?”

You grin before replying, “You should definitely have taken the number one spot.”

Steve relaxes, chuckling as he glances away. His free hand combs through his hair.

“Over Thor?” he says. “No way that’s happening.”

“Please,” you answer, finding your gumption and pulling him closer; the two of you are close enough to feel each other’s breaths on your faces, “There’s no contest.”

One more tug on his hand and his lips meet yours, hesitant at first, but with a sigh, the pair of you relax into each other. Lips parting, you taste his breath, minty and clean, as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against his front. 

“If you say so,” he says as he pulls away, gazing into your eyes as he smiles, his expression a little dazed, a little satisfied. 

“Oh, Cap,” you reply, your hand above his wildly beating heart. “I do say so.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #steve rogers fluff #avengers fluff #captain america fluff

[elriell]

Chapter Two—  

[Chapter 1]

In The Absence of Light

Restless sleep continued to plague her the following nights, just as she had feared the cold spikes of anxiety that crippled her mind refused to ease up their battle for control.

Azriel never mentioned their tense early morning encounter, but she could not deny that after his departure she had finally managed to succumb to a few good hours of rest, and for that she was grateful. She put it down to simply feeling calmer after seeing a friend and refused to look any further in to why that would be.  

So, when Elain saw him over breakfast, she offered him a genuine smile and accepted the muffin he silently offered her in return. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he did not in truth look as if he had been blessed with a good sleep, as she had.  

~

Several nights had passed since then and time trickled by slowly, each night she found herself staring up at the ceiling, tossing and turning among the expensive linens, unable to settle down. Vivid dreams swirled around in her head; the same thoughts as always, they appeared to be taking up permanent residency, she was less than pleased with that realization.  

Every noise poked at her subconscious, taunting her mockingly. She let out a sigh at the ridiculousness of her thoughts, as if the branches crashing in the wind could possibly be trying to ridicule her, she truly was losing it alltogether. Taking a deep breath, she gave up on her quest for sleep and slid her feet in the soft pair of slippers and set off for the kitchen, doing her best not to awake anyone on her path, though she doubted she would, everyone in this house seemed to sleep through most her terrors.  

Lost in her own scattered thoughts she barely saw him lent over, in truth he looked as though he too was in his own world. Strong powerful arms flexed over the sink as he gazed out the window in to the gardens below. The dark leathery wings hung limply behind him, he painted quite the sorrowful picture, moonlight casting down upon him.

A fallen angel, infinitely beautiful and untouchable in an heartbreaking way.  

“Trouble sleeping?” His honey voice caught her off guard, she really had to stop being surprised when it came to the shadow-singer, his instincts were sharp as the thorns that she tried to avoid when gardening.  

“Seems to be going around these days.” A soft shrug. “I was just going to make myself something warm, would you join me?”  

He turned towards her at that and it struck her as it always did how easily he concealed his emotions, as if he could carefully tuck them away in a box and forget about them. His eyes however spoke volumes, they were devastating to her mental resolve, a crack splintering straight to her heart.

“I would like that very much.”  Agreeing gently.

Elain willed herself to focus on the task at hand; warming up some milk for the both of them. She felt more than heard him shuffle amongst the kitchen retrieving mugs and placing them to her left, returning to his former place. “Thank you for the other night— No, no, no... Please don't stop me, I want to, no I need to. I haven’t gotten that much sleep-in months, so thank you.”

A small blush crept up his face much to her quiet delight, it was such a rarity to pierce his stoic exterior.

She poured them both a cup each and set out to retrieve some cookies from a jar she had baked earlier in the day, once she had set a sufficient amount on a plate, she joined Azriel at the small breakfast table at the far end of the room.

Though dark out it was a beautiful spot, the whole side of the wall was built from different shades of stained glass and under the moonlight it shone a messy pattern of colors across the cobblestone floor, it had quite easily become one of her favorite places once her nightmares began. A colorful sanctuary to be at ease.

There were so many questions on the tip of her tongue, she wondered so much about him, about his troubles, his travels, about Nesta, who she had not received any letters from since her departure though that was no surprise all things considered. She wished she could tell her she had not known of the plans, wished she could have at least said goodbye, god, she wished for so many things.

Perhaps she would ask Azriel to take her on his next visit to the mountains, she filed that away for another day.  

“I suppose the tonic didn't work then?” He inquired before dunking a cookie in to his mug.

“Ah—” Hesitating for a beat too long. “It's alright you needn't lie to me; your secrets are your own. If you do not wish to say I shall not bring it up again.”  He jumped in before she finished.

Truth. She knew without a doubt he would not push her, would accept whatever she was willing to give.  

“That is quite alright, to be honest with you Azriel, I am not sure I quite know myself.” She considered it carefully. “I think deep down, beneath every excuse, I just, well I just don’t want to be...”

“Medicated.” He finished for her.

It should not surprise her after all this time, he was always able to read her seamlessly and understand her completely even when she wasn’t sure she understood herself. He was able to deduce that she was a Seer when the rest thought she was going mad, even her own mate, scoffing internally at the word. It was a shame, she supposed, that it had nothing to do with Lucien. He was a good enough man but she simply couldn’t handle the burden that such a bond posed after the events of last year.  

“Exactly.”

He was uncharacteristically sheepish when he asked, “It’s not my place, but is something wrong? Lucien?” He stumbled over the last word as if he found it hard to roll off his tongue. Odd. Azriel rarely if ever spoke on the subject of the former spring court emissary, almost seemed to avoid it at all costs.

Upon reflection she could not think of one time through their many conversations that he had ever inquired about him if she had not started the discussion.  

It was eery some days, it was as though he could see inside her soul, study her like a well-read book.

And if she was following that analogy through then she was certainly an old nattered forgotten book that was far too damaged to be of much value... She heard Nesta’s voice as the thought formed scolding her for thinking that any book would not hold its own important value in the world.  

“No.” She replied honestly. “I am not quite sure what is fuelling my problems only that they are rather determined at keeping me from a peaceful sleep. But enough about that, let us talk about better things, happier things, tell me about your favorite places to...”

And so, they would spend several hours hunched over the table talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing at all, refilling their mugs repeatedly as time faded away and all that remained was the moments within, the coloured light streaming over them bathing them in a pool of colours steadily shifting as the sun rose, not that either noticed until household staff awoke to prepare for the day.  

And when she returned to her bedchamber, she would not care on bit that she was still on the brink of exhaustion.

~

They developed quite a habit of it unexpectedly. At one point or another in the night when her sleep or lack there of, became too much to bare, she would wander down to the kitchen where inevitably he would be sat as if waiting for her.

She tried not to be so self-absorbed as to think it was solely because of her. But after the first few times happened and it became a reoccurring pattern, warm milk always lay on the table waiting for her, always warm, almost as if he could sense when she would arrive despite it changing most nights.

It did not help her ever growing endearment to him.

~

Although she knew Azriel would eventually grow bored of this habit they had formed, perhaps conversation would become tiresome to maintain for him but she promised to enjoy his company while it lasted.

He made her happy and the small private moments she would cherish among the bland parts of her day, though it wasn’t particularly healthy for either of them as it meant neither was sleeping much.

But it was a worthy sacrifice, all considered she was not sleeping before therefore she was not losing anything, however she did feel a twinge of guilt for the shadow-singer. Hoped it would not interfere with his day-to-day activities and not put him at greater risk whilst following out orders.  

But alas all good things must come to an end and last night would mark that for them both.

He had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, simply letting her ramble on about the new plans for opening up the back garden to prepare it for new flowers and wildlife, he had simply watched her for hours with a gentle “Mmm” and “Of course” along the way, in hindsight she should have guessed something was coming.

He arose from the bench first keeping his eyes locked to the ground, and fiddling with the lapels of his jacket seemingly trying to buy time, while the silence hung heavy in the air.  

“It seems there has been some problems arising in the northern territories and Rhys has asked that I head out for a few days to ensure it is nothing more serious.” Shifting his feet back and forth still reluctant to make eye contact.

“I see.” She really didn’t. “When are you to leave?”

The grimace was noticeable on his controlled face, “An hour ago. Give or take.”

He did not give her time to respond as he leaned over her, closer than they had been to each other in some time and he smelled like the woods after a rainfall if that could be a smell at all, fresh yet masculine. The kiss he planted on her forehead was so gentle had she not had her eyes open she scarcely would have felt it.  

Her lids fell and her breathing changed, and she wondered if one could feel as if their heart both stopped and raced at the same time, she was losing all sense of reason and by the time she regained her thoughts enough to open her eyes he was gone.  

His absence hit her quickly and she had to take a deep breath to hold back the tear stinging her eye, yet again she was left to her own devices. Perhaps it for the best that she not grow too reliant on his company, though she was infinitely grateful for his friendship and companionship she did not want him to feel burdened by her.  

This would give them some much needed separation and time to rebuild her mental walls and form some boundaries for herself.

~

The first night was not as bad as she expected and she tried to be optimistic that this was a new leaf for her.

Unfortunately, as she well knew nothing lasts for long, especially something good. Not for her. By the fourth night the dark void had returned in full to cause chaos on her mind, and so chaos spread, worsening night after night.  

Elaine’s nightly visits to the kitchen had not ceased they simply became a solitary adventure and as the week reached its end, she was near desperate for the relief of her favorite companion would provide.

Having overheard Mor speaking to Feyre in the lounge she was able to confirm that he had returned to the estate sometime midday, though his meetings with his High Lord kept him out of sight much to her disappointment.

She did her best to tame the growing excitement that bubbled up when she thought about his return.

Tonight, for a change she made no attempts to sleep simply busied herself with brushing out her curls and spraying her favorite perfume, feeling silly for going to such efforts. Truthfully though she knew that beneath whatever crush she had formed it had little to do with her attachment to him, it was his companionship and friendship she coveted most, he was a true and loyal friend, a rare thing to her these days.  

She made a promise to herself not mare it with her growing attraction. She refused to lose another person she cared about.

Which is why when she finally made it down to the kitchen after holding off as long as possible only to be greeted by an empty room, she felt her heart twinge. Feeling silly for simply assuming he would be there, for not even questioning it. Not that she blamed him, the kinder part of her hoped he was getting a descent nights rest again, refusing to think on it for long she made herself warm cocoa and set off for bed.

Unsurprisingly sleep did not come easy to her but at least on this night it was not the terrible evil that plagued her, rather the piercing eyes of her favorite spy.

As the hours ticked on and she grew more restless her body wrenched itself out of bed as if on its own accord, and paced a way across their home, it was as she reached the West Wing she realized where she had unconsciously ended up. It was not hard through process of elimination to work out which was his, no light shone beyond the door and no detectable sound either, though she doubted she would know if he was moving about.  

It was silly to have come all this way and she was well aware of how embarrassing her need to visit him was but as she stood with only a large oak door separating them, she understood exactly why she had come, because in that moment she finally felt calmer than she had all week, the anxiety that weaved its way through her reseeded slowly.  

She figured that it couldn’t hurt to stay for a few moments to calm down a little more before venturing back, it would not hurt anyone what they did not know.  

Unaware of when it happened, she found herself sliding down against the door until her bottom hit the cold cobblestones, it was a rather strange feeling that simply being in proximity to him would bring her such small comforts but so was the case as she felt exhaustion slowly creep over and when it came, she felt safe enough to let it take her, she closed her eyes and drifted away.

~

Pheeeeew, That was long and still a little sad but i promise it is going to get less DEPRESSING™️ I just want to lay the groundwork for what is going to happen 😉 I would love any and all critique as always, it is what fuels me!

Also i was almost finished writing the chapter but the title and colourful glass is inspired by the book I am re-reading with that name.

As always anyone who wants to be added or removed just let me know 🖤

@elriel-oblivion @elriel-incorrect-quotes @tswaney17 @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @stars-falling @verifiefangirl @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @julemmaes @thefangirlofhp @empress-ofbloodshed @elrielllll @abraxos-is-toothless @julesherondalex @courtofjurdan @amitynotpity @libraryonthepond @mis-lil-red

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elriel ff #elriel fanfic #fanfic #mine #myff #myelriel #myelrielfic

[hufflepuffhermione]

I’m on a Dad Josh kick - let’s go with 37. “Welcome to fatherhood.” if you feel like it? Thank you!

More fluffy future fic for you, because I also cannot get enough of Dad Josh.

Thanksgiving 2010

Josh closes the door behind him, pausing for a brief minute to ensure there’s no crying. He’s finally managed to get Noah down for a nap in the Pack’N’Play they’ve set up in what used to be Liz’s bedroom. He had refused to go down that morning for a pre-Thanksgiving nap, but by the time Abbey was starting to clear away the plates, it was clear that he was not going to last much longer.

That didn’t mean he went down without a fight, however.

Josh takes a deep breath when he puts his ear to the door one last time and hears silence. At all of seventeen months, Noah has definitely inherited his father’s stubborn streak. But if he’s down, he’ll get a good two hours of sleep and then they’ll have to fight him to step again that night.

Such are the joys of having a toddler. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Still, Josh thought he knew exhaustion. He’d certainly had his share of sleepless nights and had kept going for years on the few hours of sleep he could manage to snatch. But fatherhood is a different kind of tiring, and he isn’t as young as he used to be. He hasn’t slept through a whole night in three weeks.

That isn’t Noah’s fault, though. That’s the fault of the little bundle currently in the arms of the former President of the United States.

“She’s a good sleeper, this one,” Jed says, looking up at Josh as he enters the living room. Donna and Abbey and Zoey are all in the kitchen, and Charlie is somewhere with their six-month old, also trying to induce a nap.

Josh chuckles and takes a seat on the couch next to Jed. “Only during the day. At night, she’s wide awake for every feeding and hates to go back down again.”

“Welcome to fatherhood. Still, a nicer reason for sleepless nights than being stuck in the situation room, huh?”

“Infinitesimally better,” Josh replies, reaching out to stroke his daughter’s light hair. He hopes she’ll look just like Donna.

Jed smirks. “You do know, Josh, that while the word ‘infinite’ refers to a limitless amount, the word ‘infinitesimal’ actually indicates a very small number, so what you’re telling me is that it’s only barely better to wake up to your daughter crying than to troop movements in Kazakhstan?”

“See, sir, I don’t dread going into the Oval Office anymore because I know President Santos won’t lecture me on vocabulary.”

“Nonsense, you miss me in there,” Jed scoffs. “Will I ever convince you to call me Jed, though?

“Not a chance.”

His face softens as he asks the question he’s been waiting to ask this whole time. “You’re really stepping down at the end of the term?”

Josh bites his lip and nods. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He clears his throat. “Um… quite a few reasons. You know as well as anybody that working in the White House can burn you out, and very rarely does a Chief of Staff last longer than a term. Leo was unique.” It still makes his heart clench to think about Leo, and it’s not lost on him that the length of Leo’s tenure was not disconnected from his death. “And I’ve been in there for almost twelve years, give or take a few. I love the work, and I know it’s the most important work I’ll ever do, but… there are more important things in my life now.” He looks down to smile at his daughter. “And several doctors, including your wife, have told me I’d benefit from a lower-stress lifestyle. I want to be around to see my kids grow up, sir, and there are some potential obstacles to that but I’m doing all that I can to stay healthy and be around for them.”

“Those are all excellent reasons, Josh.”

“Do you know, it’s interesting, this summer when I was debating whether or not I’d stay on if we got another term… something you said came to me.”

Jed nods. “What did I say?”

“It was during the whole debacle with the Surgeon General, and Ellie made a comment to a reporter, and you didn’t fire the Surgeon General because of it and…” Josh shakes his head and smiles. “I didn’t think it was the right move, because it would look like you did it because Ellie wanted you to.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“That when I had a daughter, I’d discover there are worse reasons in the world to do something.” Josh lets himself chuckle. “When Donna and I found we were having a daughter, well… that’s the moment I knew that even if we won, I wasn’t going to go back for a second term.”

Jed looks down at the infant in his arms, who has just opened her eyes. “I think she appreciates that,” he says. His arms are starting to feel weak—while the reduced stress has certainly kept his health in check, he’s still prone to weakness—and so he shifts the baby into Josh’s arms. “I’ve kept her away from you long enough.”

“She’s named after you, you know.”

“Josie?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Josh says. He meets his daughter’s bright blue eyes and can’t chase the feeling of being mesmerized.

“I had my suspicions.”

“Well, Donna’s father is Joseph, so it’s partially for him. And for Josiah, of course. And it sounds a little like Joanie—my sister,” his voice tightens imperceptibly, “but it’s still something all her own.”

Jed reaches out to put a hand on Josh’s arm. “It’s lovely.”

“I can’t get enough of her. I mean, I felt the same with Noah, but I wasn’t sure with the second if I would… but it really doesn’t go away,” Josh whispers reverently as Josie closes her eyes again. “I want to be here for all her moments. I missed Noah’s first steps because I was in the situation room. I don’t want to… I mean, I know they won’t remember it, but I will, and now that Noah is going to start remembering things… I want to be a part of his life. I want to be a part of Josie’s life. I don’t want to be absent because I’m too busy with work.”

“Admirable. What next for you, then? I find it hard to imagine you tolerating unemployment well.”

Josh shakes his head. “No, I don’t do boredom. I’ve got a couple offers from universities—I might teach a few courses at Georgetown—and I could always do consulting. And I may have reached the peak of my career, but Donna certainly hasn’t hit hers. I’ve got big plans for her. When Haake out in the Wisconsin 2nd retires, which is still a little ways off but he’s in his seventies and I know he’s starting to think about it, I want her to run for his seat.”

“Donna in Congress? Well that’s an idea. You’d move to Wisconsin?”

“Part-time, probably. I could consult from anywhere and frankly, make a lot more money doing that than drawing a government salary. But I don’t imagine we’ll ever fully leave DC.” He lets out a sigh. “But Haake’s got another three or four terms left in him, so we’ve got a while before that happens. For now, she’s staying on with Mrs. Santos but I know the President is hoping to poach her and bring her to the West Wing.” He looks down at Josie and chuckles again. “Your mama’s really quite in demand, isn’t she?”

Jed loves the scene in front of him; while years ago he might not have been able to imagine Josh as a father, now he can’t imagine the younger man as anything but. “You’re really at peace with leaving. I never thought you’d get out of politics willingly—I figured they’d have to drag you out by your ankles.”

“I’m not getting out of politics, just… taking a backseat,” Josh says. “I’ve got other plans, too; there’s a Senate seat in California opening up in the midterms and I want it to be Sam’s.” He quiets, blinking reflectively. “How do you do it, sir? Leave the White House?”

Jed pats Josh’s knee and stands up slowly. “As long as you keep calling me sir, I feel like I never left,” he jokes. “You see the bigger picture. Realize there’s more to life.”

Josh leans into the back of the couch and shifts Josie so that she’s on his chest and shoulder. “You couldn’t have convinced me of that five years ago, but…there certainly is.”

“I’m proud of you, Josh,” Jed says, and Josh doesn’t think he’s ever received a better compliment. “Now, I think we’ve gone too long without bothering our wives, and I’ve found some room within me to consume some pie.”

Josh leans his head back and smiles. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his daughter resting on his chest, and lets his breaths align with hers, until Donna comes into the living room to announce dessert and finds her husband and daughter asleep in the living room.

“Fatherhood takes it out of you, doesn’t it?” she says softly to wake him.

He opens his eyes and sits up, smiling. “Never a more worthwhile endeavor.”

#jessbakescakes #josh lyman #josh x donna #the west wing #tww fic #alli's writings #i almost didn't put donna in this lol but i figured she should make an appearance #she's important #but anyway dad josh has my heart #and this kind of got away from me #but it fits into my headcanon future with all the other fics i've been writing lately #and like... if a fic isn't three times the length it's supposed to be it wouldn't be my writing right?