#health and fitness mantra

[77770]

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[thevachak]

Anger

A monk decides to meditate alone, away from his monastery. He takes his boat out to the middle of the lake, moors it there, closes his eyes and begins his meditation.

After a few hours of undisturbed silence, he suddenly feels the bump of another boat colliding with his own. With his eyes still closed, he senses his anger rising, and by the time he opens his eyes, he is ready to scream at the boatman who dared disturb his meditation.

But when he opens his eyes, he sees it’s an empty boat that had probably got untethered and floated to the middle of the lake. At that moment, the monk achieves self-realization, and understands that the anger is within him; it merely needs the bump of an external object to provoke it out of him.

From then on, whenever he comes across someone who irritates him or provokes him to anger, he reminds himself, “The other person is merely an empty boat. The anger is within me.”

Some useful timeless tips

Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay 'them'

Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.

Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever.. Never let the brain idle. 'An idle mind is the devil's workshop.' And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.

Enjoy the simple things.

Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.

The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person, who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.

Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, or whatever. Your home is your refuge.

Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the guilt is.

Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. We all need to live life to its fullest each day, Worry about nothing, and pray about everything!!! 

[masterkeyisyou888]

Chant This for Menstrual Harmony: Kannika Parameshwari Mantra

[smittywit-spiritual]

• Lord please heal my doubts and bless me with your miracles.

- Smitty’Wit (The Skeptics Mantra)

[she-is-healthy]

Reasons I Choose Recovery

I want to know what it feels like to love myself for once. I deserve to know.

I don't want to waste another 10 years trapped by my shitty relationship with food.

I've spent the last 4-5 years drunk, high, or both. I want to be present in my own life.

Good health is a privilege, not a right. I don't want to take my body for granted anymore.

There is so much more to me than my weight and my disorder.

Confidence and self-love is sexier than the number on the scale or measuring tape.

I want to glow on my wedding day.

Building muscle feels AMAZING!

Despite what the toxic EDblr mantras want people to believe, there's no point in destroying myself for the sake of weight loss if the only end result is me fitting into a smaller casket.

[somber-sapphic]

Safe In Their Arms

I apologize for my inconsistency in these descriptions, I'm just trying to get everything reposted as quickly as I can- (wandanat x reader)

You've been working hard and naturally, let go of your health. When your girlfriends try to help you push them away, resulting in a minor fight between you and Natasha.

Word Count: 2004

-----

You swiped a clammy hand over your eyes, struggling to keep yourself focused on the words written on the page in front of you. You’d always joked that paperwork would be the death of you, but this seemed worse than your typical nightmare related exhaustion. Your body felt unnaturally heavy and the pressure in your head had intensified tenfold. 

You sniffled quietly and ran a fist under your runny nose, trying to keep all of the gunk inside your head. You’d finish soon, then you’d sleep for three days. Or a month, whatever it took to get the damn pain to go away. You scrunched up your nose and ducked forward, stifling a sneeze into your elbow 

“Y/n for the love of god, either blow your nose or leave. I can’t think with all of your sniffling.” The redhead beside you spat out, turning to give you an ugly glare. Her green eyes bore into yours and you felt shame welling up inside of you. 

“Natasha, quit. Y/n, are you feeling alright?” Wanda asked softly, walking over to put a hand on your shoulder. You huffed and pulled away from her, hunching back over the work in front of you. 

A part of you felt awful for how you were acting. Wanda had been nothing but kind to you since it happened and you’d been hostile. Natasha had given it a week before she was done with your attitude and began returning the aggression you sent her way.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to talk to me, I know you’re still upset but you’re trembling. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and I can see the three pairs of socks. What’s wrong?” The auburn haired woman moved and wrapped her arms around you, resting her head on your shoulder. You tried to keep yourself steady, you tried to hold back the emotions, but it was too much. 

You squished your cheek against hers as tears began to slip from your eyes. Being the wonderful girlfriend that she was, Wanda stayed where she was, but slipped her hand onto your forehead, rocking you slightly as the tears came faster. 

“It’s okay Y/n/n, I’m right here.” She soothed, her mother-hen instincts kicking in. You reached up and grabbed the arm hooked around your shoulders and clung to her, the physical contact tearing down the walls you’d built up since the explosion. A heaving sob wracked your body, quickly turning into a coughing fit that made your lungs rattle in your chest. 

“Shh, shh I’ve got you. I’ve got you little dove. Just breathe for me.” You broke completely when she started to comb her fingers through your hair, a gesture that never failed to make you talk to her. She continued her mantra as your sobs got heavier and didn’t break contact even as you started to rock back and forth in your overwhelming sadness. 

“I-I'm s-sorry!” You choked out, squeezing your eyes closed against what you were sure would be yelling from Natasha. She was mad at you and she had every right to be. That didn’t change how afraid you were of her leaving you. You couldn’t live without these women. 

“Y-you tried to help and, and I just got m-mad, I-I’m so stupid.” Your chest was heaving with emotion, terrified that they’d just leave you alone. Wanda’s hold tightened on you, and you could feel her using some of her magic to keep you from spiraling completely. She had a very tentative hold on your grief, knowing that you needed to feel it but unwilling to let it send you into a panic attack. 

You felt yourself being moved, but you didn’t fight. You didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. You were lowered into the ground and found yourself curled up in the arms of someone new. If you weren’t so congested you’d smell her light sandalwood soap and a hint of sweat from her earlier training. If you opened your eyes you’d see a cascade of long red hair half covering her face as she pulled you against her chest, a sudden protectiveness flaring in her chest. 

You didn’t need to though. You knew the touch of this woman without having to look up. It was a touch that you had craved for a long time. Since the incident your general aggressive attitude had kept her from providing the gestures of comfort that Wanda refused to withhold. The brushes of her fingers across your back when she walked past you. The hand on your knee to keep it from bouncing when you were sitting down. The little nudges of her elbow into your ribs in a joking way to show affection. 

You grabbed onto the front of Natasha’s shirt, afraid that she’d change her mind and let you go. Wanda started to pull away but you shook your head, hoping that she’d stay. You didn’t trust your voice, or really think that you’d be able to talk through your tears. 

“You’re sick baby.” She murmured into your hair, showing you love that you thought she’d lost for you. You shook your head against her shirt and sniffled miserably, holding back a fit of what you were sure would be hacking, wet coughs. 

“I haven’t been sick in ages, it must be something else…” You whimpered, refusing to admit it. If you admitted it, you were weak and you couldn’t keep being weak in front of them. You’d already shown too much emotion. 

“Your denial is adorable bug, but you’re definitely sick. You’re burning up.” Wanda chuckled, pulling your sweaty hair back into a loose ponytail with one of her spare hair ties. Her nails grazed your scalp and you moaned in pleasure, the pain fading with her gentle touch. Embarrassment flooded over you, and you turned to look at her an apology on your lips. 

She smiled and cupped your hot cheek in a soft hand, sympathy and kindness glimmering in her beautiful hazel eyes. 

“...love you…” You turned away and hid your head back in Natasha’s chest, the same way that a toddler might. Both women laughed and one of them kissed the top of your head. You melted into the affection, knowing that though you’d have the discussion about your bad attitude later they would let you bask in their attention for a while. They wouldn’t make you talk about it just yet. 

“We love you too printsessa, but it’s time for bed. Do you think you can walk?” Your body felt like jello what with all of the not eating enough and complete lack of sleep but you had to try. You nodded weakly and allowed them to help you stand, Natasha’s arm slipping around your waist as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. 

“Are you sure? I can carry you.” The redhead offered, looking up at you. For all of her high heeled boots and badassery, the woman was tiny. Standing at a mere 5’3” anyone who didn’t know her strength would think her offer ridiculous. You knew that she could literally throw you across the room without a second thought. She was fantastic. 

“I’m okay.” You stumbled forward and Wanda grabbed your shoulders, shaking her head slightly. 

“Quit it. I will knock you out and carry you myself if I have to.” The other woman snapped, kissing the back of your head lightly. You shut up and allowed Natasha to lift you into a bridal carry. You cast a weak glare at Wanda, but stopped when you saw what looked like terror in her eyes. 

“...’m’okay baby. Tired.” You reached for her hand, and ran a thumb across her knuckles as Natasha carried you to your room. She deposited you on the bed with a gentle kiss on your forehead and you frowned, making stupid little grabby hands at her. Your throat hurt and you didn’t want to talk anymore. You just wanted to be held. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” She laughed, bending over so that she could give you a real kiss. You tried to push away, not wanting her to get sick, but she kissed you anyway. Her soft lips pressed against yours and you relaxed, letting all of the anxiety and sadness of the past few weeks leave you. This was your chance to not be okay, even if it was only until your fever broke. 

“Don’t go?” You whispered, sleep already pulling at your exhausted mind. You glanced over at Wanda, who still looked nervous. She was picking at her nails as if trying to decide if she should sit. You wanted her to sit, what did you do wrong?

Tears filled your eyes and you pulled your knees to your chest, self hate washing over you. 

“No, no you don’t get to do that again. I just got you back.” Wanda snapped out of her anxious daze and sat beside you. Without another moment of hesitation she pulled you against her chest, her hand cradling the back of her head. 

“Can we go to bed?” You mumbled into her neck, still fighting to stay awake. You knew that they wanted you up by the way she nudged you every time she felt you sink deeper against her. 

“Just a second, sleepy girl. We’ve gotta get you changed, remember?” She ran her fingernails across your scalp and you heard the little buzz sound that Natahsa’s phone made when it took a picture. You whined loudly and tried to grab the blanket, but it was snatched out of your reach. 

A new set of more frustrated tears filled your eyes and you whimpered into Wanda’s shirt, your tears wetting the fabric. 

“What’s wrong?” She cooed, glancing up at Natasha who was rifling around the drawers for a set of suitable pajamas. Something light, like cotton. 

“I don't feel good.” You rubbed your nose against your wrist and looked up at her with big wet eyes, lower lip trembling. If you had any memory of this, you would be completely humiliated. For now, you were tired and sick and finally felt safe enough to be vulnerable. 

“We know bug, let’s just get you changed into these,” Natasha held up a loose shirt that belonged to Wanda and a pair of her old, ratty sweatpants, “and then you can sleep until everything feels better.” She soothed, helping Wanda sit you up. 

You protested your clothes being removed by going limp, a pout set firmly on your lips. There was much grumbling from the women trying to get you changed and a few Russian curses. By the time they’d wrestled the shirt over your head, you were half asleep against Wanda’s shoulder, finally willing to help them out. 

“Wanna pull your legs up for me sweetheart?” Natasha pulled your pants off and you winced at the sudden cold, obeying as she went to put the new ones on. “Thank you Y/n, you can lay down now. We’re going to let you get off the hook without medicine for now, but when you wake up you’ve gotta take it, okay?” 

Her words were fuzzy but you understood the implications. Mostly you understood that now you could sleep. You let them rearrange the pillows and tuck the blanket up around your chin, refusing to move your head from Wanda’s stomach. She was comfy and felt good. 

“Do you need more blankets, my princess?” Natasha murmured, threading her fingers through your hair. 

“You be my blanket?” You asked, not moving from your position. There was plenty of room for her to lay down if she wanted to be your blanket, which you really hoped that she did. The women beneath you laughed silently and kissed your hairline. 

“Of course. Goodnight Y/n.” You tried to say goodnight, but your body was too heavy. Finally, after weeks of exhaustion, your mind drifted away in the safety of your girlfriend's arms. They’d protect you. They wouldn’t leave you. They’d make sure you were never alone. 

[elexuscal]

forcing myself to exercise while reciting a mantra in my head: i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing it to improve endurance. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this to improve lung capacity. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this to become more flexible. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this to reduce knee pain. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this to improve mental health. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this to become stronger. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this to improve balance. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing this for mindfulness. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing it to reduce cramping. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing it to sleep better. i'm not doing this to lose weight i'm doing it to be fit.

[seikkoi]

ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

content/warnings: named reader, explicit sexual content (very end), alcohol consumption, mentions of financial issues, employer/employee relations, explicit mentions of mental health issues (reader has the anxieties™), mentions of physical injuries, set in canon universe before aou.

genre: mostly angst ngl, sm*t at the very very end

word count: 7,463 im sorry

a/n: lightly inspired by the song 'october' by rothstein

dedicated to: the lovely @alessandraavengers

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business."  Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.  “My business is your job."

I won't complain,

I will be decent, 

though it will be freezing,

I welcome the rain.

The hands of the clock on the wall ticked silently, a sign of the building’s expense. You clutched a leather binder filled with papers in your lap as you sat. Everything you had to show for the last seven years of your life. Countless awards, certificates, recommendations—the expensive bachelor's and the bank account-draining master’s. Your leg bounced on the dark mahogany, steadily increasing frequency as seconds turned into minutes.

Ironically, this would also be interview number seven. For the job you were least qualified for. You applied for close to twenty at this point, all well below your skill, but you were desperate. You had barely a year of experience—quitting your first job one year out of school after one-too-many sixty hour work weeks. The moment you turned in your resignation, dread and regret over your choice in profession filled you. It held you down, sleeping and rotting the days away. Eventually, reality set in, pulled you out of bed and back into the corporate world. 

Turns out, lack of experience and ‘quitting with notice’ is less than ideal.

You hoped a step down in prestige would result in less stress. All your fantasies of a top floor corner office and luxury disappeared like ash under a light rain. You always held expensive tastes that you couldn’t sustain unemployed.  But the stress wasn’t worth it. All you needed now was to pay the bills. Too quickly ‘over-qualified’ or ‘under-experienced’ became your least favorite words. You had to fight back the dread every time you checked your email. 

Just when you’d started pondering entry-level positions, a notification came through for a new vacancy ‘Fit for your skillset!’. To your dismay, the description sounded no different than the job you left. More grueling expectations and personal sacrifice. On top of that, you still were under-experienced by their requirements. Not to mention who it was for. Overworked employees typically miss most current events, but far too much has been going on with this company to make even you pay attention. Working for such a high-profile, drama-ridden company might be even worse.  But after weeks and not so much as an offer letter, you had to try anything. On the plus side, at least it paid well.

Three days later, you found yourself inside of Stark Tower, wishing the silent clock would move faster.

Square breathes, internal mantras—nothing worked. Your heels still made a gentle clack against the floor. Thankfully, the general noise of the front lobby kept it from being a nuisance. 

What you swear is eons later, your ears prick up to a similar click growing near you. You turn your head as a tall blonde approaches the small waiting area. She stops at the front desk a moment, making your heart skip a beat when the receptionist points to you. 

‘Just relax, you know what to say.’ you thought to yourself. ‘They won’t hire you if you’re a nervous wreck.’

You manage to muster what little confidence you had left after weeks of rejection to stand and straighten your dress as she greets you. Thankfully, the smile she extends is friendly enough. The hand you feel is soft and manicured too— acute tells of an easy life.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ms. Potts, I’ll be bringing you up to meet Mr. Stark.” she says, turning and heading further into the lobby.

‘Maybe this won’t be too hard. Maybe this job won’t be like the last.’

-

During the entire elevator ride to Mr. Stark’s office, Ms. Potts spews out factoids about Stark Industries but you’re too busy rethinking your entire interview strategy. Something about a cave, Obadiah Stane and a wormhole whizzes through your ear to no reaction. It was nothing you hadn’t already read in the weekly papers, nor did it ease you one bit. 

You were even more taken aback when you realize you’re descending, and the silver doors open to a spacious garage. The faint sound of movement echoes, source unseen. You turn to Miss Potts, who only gives another pleasant smile and gestures into the concrete space.

Sure, the whole world knew Tony Stark was a bit eccentric. You knew that well enough when you applied. Hell, it probably explained the vacancy. Maybe this was some type of strategy, or just his nature. Either way, something was screaming at you to tell Miss Potts you had changed your mind, go home and apply for anything else. 

Then, you remembered how badly you wanted success. You couldn’t accept anything less.

The elevator closed quietly behind you as you exited, looking for the source of the noise. There’s cars (some ridiculously new and some pathetically old), studded workbenches, and chaotic piles of robotics and machinery strewn about. You have to round the corner to find him, behind a small bar tucked away from the metal mess everywhere else. 

He’s turned away from you, seated at the bar with eyes glued on a few papers before him. An ornate pen signs away without pause. You’re certain the sound of your heels against the floor gave you away, but you’re sure to clear your throat to not shock him. 

Mr. Stark, clad in a grease-stained white tee and dark denim, shifts in the barstool slightly to give you a cursory look. You can tell immediately his mind is lightyears away from the present situation, focused elsewhere. On a lighter note, you notice how much kinder he looks in person. All the magazines and op-eds made his face harsh, never smiling. 

“You’re the one who applied for assistant thingy right? Miss…” Stark trails off, scanning back through the papers in front of him. There’s a slight slur in his speech, one that forces you to remember the early hour.

“Cassian.” you interrupt his search and he laughs, abandoning the papers for a shiny glass on the counter.

He brings the amber liquid to his lips before he speaks again. 

“Right, Cassian, look—” The glass finds its way back to the solid surface despite his sway. He stands once it does, facing you with a wide smile. “You’re hired!” 

With that, you’re left more dumbfounded, staring at the billionaire as he sauntered over to one of the cluttered workbenches. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t understand—” You turn towards him as he walks by, not sparing you another glance.

When he reaches the middle of the garage, he lets out an exhausted sigh. The familiar regret seeps in, turning your nerves up another notch.

“The woman that probably brought you here—Pepper, she used to be my assistant, and handle all the tabloid bullsuit.” he mutters, fiddling with a wrench from the bench. 

“After the whole ‘tower nearly blowing up’ situation, she’s taken a step uh-out of my life. For better or worse. I didn’t wanna hire anyone else, she’s convinced I can’t manage my own life— we compromised.”

You start to speak, trying to formulate the right words to say. Stark pays it no mind, tossing the wrench back down gently.

He pivots towards you, and you see the stress in his eyes. You can see why she’d quit-hell you were starting to wish you never applied. The name ‘Stark’ proliferated in the papers these days.

“Offer letter is signed, on the bar, job’s there if you want it.” With that, he walks across the garage, past you into the elevator. 

The electronic ding! sounds, leaving you in the garage alone without another word. You’re convinced this is a terrible idea- even before whatever that just was.

Something sparks your curiosity to look at the signed papers, and put a dollar amount to this madness. You walk back to the bar, grabbing the stack of papers with a faint ring of water in the corner.

You’re certain you’re dreaming when you count the number of zeros. 

THREE WEEKS LATER

You were ready for retirement at the ripe age of twenty-six.

This was a new type of demand. Running nearly every aspect of Tony Stark’s life didn’t eat your soul, but it ate at your mind. You could spin embezzlement or drunk-driving into a heartwarming story- alien attacks and Hydra were a whole new ballpark. 

It was almost refreshing. Spinning stories for shitty people and tailoring public statements for the goal of maximum human exploitation never quite sat right with you. Handling Stark’s life just felt like defending someone who deserved it. It felt more honorable working for him than a greedy tech firm.  (There are some questionable times when he doesn’t, but you don’t bother with those).

The righteousness helped the uncharted territory be more than manageable. Still, making Stark’s technology enterprise mesh well with his role as Iron Man felt like a hero’s feat on its own. The media would come up with any number of wild conspiracies about Iron Man, most of them disparaging to his image. 

Stark was legitimately aiming for good things in the world. The weariness in your bones kept you craving more simplicity and ease, nonetheless.

You sunk down into the leather couch of the conference room, watching as the board members filed out in quick order. The room was filled with the golden ray of sunset— soon to turn pitch black. 

Officially done with the day’s meetings, you forgo any workplace formalities and kick off your heels, despite your boss’s presence. 

A light chuckle at your exhaustion breaks the silence, Stark slumping into the empty space beside you. You raise an eyebrow when he wriggles at the lavish tie around his neck, tossing the garment to the floor next to your heels. 

“What, you can kick back but I can’t?” he jests, undoing the top two buttons of his black dress shirt. 

You give a ‘fair enough’ shrug, leaning back to start mentally processing the last ten hours.

You found yourself staring at his exposed neck as your mind trailed off, his head leaned back, eyes shut. His jaw is tight, forehead pinch in a now-familiar focus. Stark looked nearly as drained as you, still you knew better than to try and equate things. Honestly, you considered yourself semi-lucky to only have to make things look nice for the cameras and not be present for them. In the evening glow, though, he looks close to ethereal.

You shift your eyes at the thought.

You two sit in comfortable silence as the sun moves behind the New York city skyline. 

You’re doing mental math on how soon you can retire when he fills the void with a question.

“Regret taking the job?” he asks, unmoving. 

You add ‘potential mind reader’  to his list of skills. 

“Some parts are better than others.” It’s as honest of an answer you can give without sounding ungrateful for the opportunity (or thinking about the alluring glow on his skin).

He laughs again, turning to meet your eyes. This would mark the first time you’re under a heat lamp from his gaze, irises tired and alluring. 

“Seriously,” 

Clearly your answer isn’t convincing, because he turns to his side on the couch to fully face you. 

“You aren’t regretting this? Because lately you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” he says with a lazy grin.

You thought you were doing a good job of burying your issues beneath walls of smiles. Hearing otherwise hurts your resolve a bit, especially from Stark. He had enough on his plate without worrying about you.

“It’s just…a lot,” 

Despite how you felt, you couldn’t lie about it, not to his face. 

“But it’s not your fault, it’s not you.” you swiftly add upon seeing his somber grin fade away.

“Ha, isn’t it though?” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth like a deflated balloon, running his hands through messy brown locks. “This..rollercoaster I’ve put myself on.” 

“Rollercoasters can be fun.” 

“You hate it.” Stark faces you once more, propping his arm up on the back of the couch. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you quit.”

The suggestion pulls a laugh of your own. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

Stark makes a genuinely puzzled face, to which you spend the next minute or two explaining why you quit your first job, the weeks you spent rotting away after. You had hoped to never recount such a sad time outloud, but you couldn’t stand him feeling at fault for your lack of enthusiasm. 

Ease passes through you when it seems to comfort him a bit.

“Maybe I hire you for something else, maybe pay you to not deal with this shit.” he says, laughing.

You brush off his joke with another short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? Really, it’s fine. Just need a long hot shower.”

You start to stand, but are stopped when a hand graces your thigh. 

“No jokes, I know what it’s like to get more than you signed up for. If money’s all that’s keeping you here, trust me that’s not an issue.”

You give a flustered smile, trying not to focus on how warm his hand was. 

“It’s not all that’s keeping me here.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

“You know it’s just a dinner, right? Like just food, maybe music, high probability of dessert?” Stark taunts, noticing your trembling leg from behind his phone screen.

The car seems like it’s moving way too fast, even though you can very clearly see the speedometer under 25 miles per hour. 

“Yes, I know what dinner is.” 

You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain the ground under your feet. The part Stark conveniently forgets is that it is a very large gala he’s dragged you along to, and not just a normal dinner. You can do normal dinner, not a one hundred plus person dinner with reporters and red carpet. He’s also not considering the part where he didn’t tell you about it until two hours ago.

“Oh, that’s a relief, thought you might jump out the window.” he pockets his phone, turning to you. “I can just have Happy take you home, you know.”

“No, no, this is…excitement. I’m excited. Totally ready.” you’re really trying to convince yourself, but it only makes Tony snicker.

“These things are really boring, promise. That’s why you’re here, keep me from falling asleep.” 

Out the window, the street lights start to turn back into normal orbs instead of blurry splotches. The car pulls up the curb with enough ease for you to take in the venue. It's a marble hall, one you feel suddenly underdressed for. You make a mental note to tell Stark never to give you this little notice again. Perhaps you should save yourself the trouble and head home. 

Stark could behave himself, right? 

The black window tinting your view disappears when the door is pulled open. You hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore, now holding the door and gesturing to the entrance. You get your first good look at the suit he’s wearing, tailored and jet-black. The flattering seams are a decent enough distraction to join him on the sidewalk. 

Stark places both hands on either of your shoulders, giving you a playful shake. 

“You look amazing, I look amazing, please stop worrying. It’s starting to spread and I can’t eat on an upset stomach.” he forces himself into your gaze, searching your face for the supposed ‘excitement’.

A deep breath, then a second passes through you, staring at Stark's eyes until you can manage a curt nod and still legs.

“See, you’re gonna be just fine.” he exclaims, dropping the hands from your shoulders and already smiling for the line of photographers waiting by the door. 

You follow unsteadily, praying this is a speedy event. You could do this for an hour, maybe two. Stark takes notice of your delay, turning back to you just before reaching the first nerdy cameraman.

“Hey, what’s the issue with this? If your not comfortable with the cameras, you know we can just go around—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupt, gripping your clutch with sweaty palms. 

“Then what?” he asks sympathetically.

“There’s like a hundred people in there, Stark.” you admit with a long sigh.

“And I’m one of them, what’s the worst that can happen if you're with me?” He turns and props his arm out towards you. “Miss Cassian?” he says, dragging out your name.

You want to roll your eyes at his constant unserious nature, but instead you take another deep breath, loop your arm through his, letting your fingers wrap around the satiny fabric on his bicep before taking slow steps forward.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Bright bulbs of light flickering in blinding succession. In every direction, microphones with human mouthpieces spew their hurried questions. Your boss answers in his typical Stark way, earning only more adoration and curiosity. You come to humor yourself with the questions they ask. Always seemingly random, from his favorite brand of whiskey to his opinion on migrant detainment in the Mediterranean. 

You stand to the right as he smiles and poses for them. You almost hate how good he looks in the cold wind, face most definitely beaming behind designer snow-white frames. Outside of that, you admire his patience, knowing this winter vacation (where he didn’t have to be Iron Man for once) was leaked and now semi-ruined.

It would’ve been a well needed break for you as well. Three months of non-stop press releases, conferences, and meetings were wearing you ragged. Late nights were occupied with drafting memos and wishing you chose a career with less work. While you hated the time work took away, you unfortunately began to admire the work you did. Working for Stark turned out to be more desirable than you thought. You imagined dealing with another frustrating, reckless CEO- not a charming, witty superhero. Regardless of the long hours and chaos, you loved helping put more good into the world. 

Finally, as snow starts to fall, he answers a final question on if he’ll change the color of his suit before turning to enter the cabin.

“Mr. Stark— Iron Man, won’t be taking any more questions, excuse me, thank you.” 

You tried to squeeze past incessant reporters and fans, barely making it through the hotel front door if it weren’t for security. The commotion outdoors gets muffled by the tall wooden doors. You sigh and lean against them, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Feeling alright, Cassie?” 

Stark’s voice makes you open your eyes to see him standing in the foyer. This would be the fourth time you feel his eyes burning through your skin. You expected him not to be upstairs in bed, asleep already, not in front of you, eyeing you with his hands buried in his pockets. 

The place he chose spared little expense, clearly for starlets like Stark looking for a lush, woodsy escape. Wooden walls covered every inch, adorned with fancy art and a modern fireplace in the living room.  The color reminds you of the tower lobby, a deep mahogany. 

“Yeah, just remind me why I’m here and not at home in my heated apartment.” You keep your voice light as you hang your coat on the rack by the door. 

Stark gives a playful scoff, too used to your sarcasm to take offense. 

“A certain former assistant thinks I need a babysitter on my own vacation.” He turns on his heels, heading towards the kitchen with a renewed energy (surely only now remembering he’s supposed to be relaxing). 

“She’s not wrong.” you agree only because Stark re-emerges from the kitchen with a tall amber colored bottle and two glasses. 

You can’t help rolling your eyes at his stiffened jazz hands, tossing yourself onto the plush armchair by the fireplace. The cold seemed to wrap itself around you, not leaving despite your proximity to the fire. Stark chose to sit on the side table next to you, rather than the wide array of more comfortable seating options. You’d gotten used to him entering your personal space since your talk in the conference room. You took it as a sign of his narcissism more than anything.

“Not sure I’m meant to be a drunk babysitter, Mr. Stark, ” you quip as he starts pouring.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he winks, offering you one. “And come on with the ‘mister’—making me feel old over here.”

It’s bothersome how little he has to say to change your mood. Something about being with just him, away from press, deadlines or state secrets, pulled you in and kept you coming to work everyday. In this moment, however, his solitary presence made you anxious. You’d have to get through this sabbatical without the chaos of the world bringing you back to reality. The real world, littered with expectations.

Free of any reason to decline, you take the glass. You and Tony do a lazy toast, clicking the glasses together before taking a sip. The peaceful quiet envelopes the cabin, save for the crackle of the fireplace. 

“You okay?” you ask upon seeing the weariness in his face, contrasting the grin he held.

“Better than okay,” he finishes the rest of his drink, pouring another faster than you take a second sip. “Happy to be away from everything, ‘get in touch with the great outdoors!’ as they say.” 

You laugh at the dramatic mocking tone he uses, extending your arm out when he makes a gesture at your empty glass. 

“I hope your atleast being slightly genuine, Mr. Stark.” you say once the glass is full once more.

“When am I ever not, Miss Cassian.” he draws on your name with the same mocking pitch as before.

You fake a wince at the taste of your own medicine, which amuses the hell of the already tipsy Stark. 

“I see what you mean, felt fifteen years added on instantly with that,” you admit, chuckling at his demeanor. 

“Hence why I’m such a nice guy and call you Cassie like a normal person,” he states smugly, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh really, Tony? ‘Cause you only gave me that nickname after I explicitly told you no one ever calls me that.” you laugh.

“Yes and that was a great loss to the universe that I fixed,” Tony turns his head to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling (you tell yourself it’s just the alcohol and nothing else).

The both of you stay there silent, eyes locked for what quickly becomes far too long and the awkwardness makes your attention back to your drink. You finish the contents, hoping that the liquid would cool your now burning skin. 

You internally remind yourself that this is just how he is- a playboy philanthropist turned charming hero, nothing else. 

“Sorry, I know this isn’t really much of a vacation for you. ‘Know you wanna be at home, away from Stark Industries,” he deflates a bit, pouring a third drink.

“No, it’s not like that,” you interject, speaking softly, “I really don’t mind being here, and it’s still a good break from meetings and all that other tedious shit.” 

He takes a sip, seemingly mulling over your words. “Give any more thought to my offer?”

You let out a small laugh, thrown off by his sudden mention of it. You were certain then that he wasn’t being anything near serious. 

“What, you paying me to not be here? I didn’t think that was you being serious.”

“It’s a win-win, no? You get a salary, I don’t have to drag you along for this rollercoaster, Pepper doesn’t worry, everyone’s happy.” 

Clearly you’re left silent for too long, because Tony stands before he speaks again. He seems conflicted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Look, I don’t need to see you miserable, I guess.”

“What, who said I was miserable?”

“Anyone would be dealing with me.” 

TWO DAYS LATER

After a few days, an air of melancholy had hung over you. Two days of nothing turned into endless overthinking about your life. Every decision made seemed to rattle in your bones, looking for a place to be. You tried to tell yourself it was normal to feel lost, to feel as though everything you’ve ever done was pointless. This was the first time you’d had room to think, of course everything would be overwhelming.

That didn’t help, but whatever red wine Tony brought did. 

You found it on night two, cracking open the second bottle when Tony comes downstairs. You gave a sluggish hey that gave away your state immediately, but you were too absorbed in your thoughts to meet his eyes. 

“Didn’t take you for a wine connoisseur.” he mutters, sitting in the chair across from you. 

You don’t bother with a response. In fact, you wished that he’d go away. Seeing Tony lately just reminded you more of the life you were sure you wouldn’t have. You were certain you made all the wrong choices, took all the wrong paths.

“Cassian?” he leans forward, forcing his face into your point of view. “Kinda' freaking me out here.”

“You ever think about what your life would be like if you weren’t,” you trail off for a moment, slurring slightly. “I don’t know—you?”

He laughs and it feels infectious, closing your eyes to hopefully shut up the twist in your stomach.

“Me, specifically? Who knows? Maybe I’d be a pilot, or own a hotdog stand.” he goes silent at your lack of reaction to his joke, resting his chin against his hands.

“Why, thinking about faking your death and adopting a new identity?”

The red liquid in your glass coats your dry throat. You’d love to start over. Go back and see what the other paths held. Then, the deep pit of your stomach turns, remembering how different and worthwhile working for Stark made you feel.

“What if I did everything wrong?” you ask quietly.

If you did, a small part of the anxiety in your gut assures you that it was worth it to find your way to him.

“Define ‘wrong’.”

“Not what I imagined, I guess”

To help someone who wanted to do so much to help the world.

“Well, what do you want from life?”

You go silent again. “I don’t know.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

With nothing to prove you,

and if I should lose you

—It won't be in vain.

On the last day at the cabin, you feel a genuine sense of sadness at the thought of leaving. 

Fourteen days with no reminder of the outside world had you the most relaxed in years. Bliss was all you felt waking up each morning to no phone calls, no emergencies, and no meetings. You forgot what it was like to just exist, to not have your thoughts bogged down by deadlines. You had even forgotten the benefits of good company. The demanding nature of your job meant little social life, and you didn’t realize until nearly two days in that you had been craving it. What surprised you more was that you received that good company in the form of your boss. Tony seemed to go out of his way to fill any voids of silence with quips and self-deprecating jokes to make you laugh. Clearly to spare himself the awkwardness of your dissatisfaction. 

Nothing changed about personality, but removing the dark shadow of responsibility made him visibly less wound up. It must have done the same for you, because you spent most of these last two weeks laughing (or catching up on well-needed sleep). You tried to avoid him lately, not wanting to add fuel to the fire you could feel growing for him. Opting for weeks of solitude with him was possibly not the wisest route.

Retroactively, if you had all this sudden free time at home alone, you probably would’ve gone a little crazy. 

You must be wearing your solace on your face, because that night, during dinner, Stark asks if something is wrong.

“Is it a bad thing if I don't want to go back to New York?” you chuckle at your own absurdity, scraping the last bits of food into the trash.

“Is it worse if I agree?” he smiles, looking up from his own plate. 

“Not excited to go back to being an Avenger?” you ask honestly, sitting back down at the kitchen table, next to him.

“Ha, excited’s the wrong word.” he sits back in his chair, letting out a sigh. “You’re not jumping to get back out there either.”

You give an agreeing nod, resting your head in your hands when you start mentally going through all the tasks waiting for you tomorrow. 

“You don’t have to go back like I do. You can get away from all this.”

When you look up, Tony’s eyes are glued to the floor. 

“You know, you can just fire me if it’s that much of a bother to you.” you say sharply. 

Truthfully, it was starting to come off as a subtle hint to leave rather than concern. It muddied whatever imaginary connection you maybe thought you’d fostered over these last few weeks. All the little touches and extra concern bounced around in the back of your head like a live grenade. You didn’t know how much of it was aimed towards you, or just his charismatic nature. Maybe there was never any charisma, and he was the same as any other CEO.

“Cassie, that’s the last thing I want.” he says, like he’s offended, and you want to laugh at the audacity.

“Could’ve fooled me.” you retort, standing to exit the kitchen.

Tony intercepts you at the doorway, however, clearly scrambling for words to ease the newly-created tension. All it really does is annoy you more, seeing those brown eyes pleading silently. Either way, you can’t get past. 

“I—This is too much for anyone to handle. I can barely handle it and that’s because you do so much behind-the-scenes for me. A lot of people have reached their wits end with me and I don’t want that with you.”

It sounds painful for him to say, and despite his soft tone, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him be.

“I think you’re worried a bit too—”

“I’d rather not be the reason you spend weeks in bed, okay?” 

Frozen in the doorway, your anger still boils. It felt like the thing you were most ashamed about being thrown in your face. You want to go back to that conference room and never tell him a thing. It’d save you the confusion, save you from all the mixed signals. He couldn’t mean it. You remember the way he reluctantly submitted to Pepper and hired you. Tony didn’t care, he never wanted you here in the first place. You felt stupid for thinking anything else.

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business." 

Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. 

“My business is your job, can’t you see I’m trying to be supportive?” 

You almost start to regret your words, but you can’t stand the way he looks at you like some fragile thing. 

For the fifth time, you're hot under his gaze, but it does nothing besides flare your anger more.

“I don’t need your support, stop acting like you have any idea what’s best for me.” you snap, taking a step closer.

To your surprise, Tony closes the remaining distance, and you have to look up to maintain your glare. Tony's expression shifts from concern to frustration, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Clearly, you don’t even know what’s best for you. Forgive me for giving a damn.” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes, deciding to just put an end to this conversation. In his frustration, Tony left a wide enough gap for you to try and snake through. Your heated exit must’ve been obvious, because he steps back to keep you in front of him.

“Seriously?” your fists clench at your sides, heat spreading up your arms to your cheeks. 

“Why are you still here?” he softens a bit, but not entirely folding his arms over his chest.

It’s not enough though— your irritation is unchanging even under his tender gaze.  It was easier to stay angry and pretend like he wasn’t the only thing keeping you. To not admit that you didn’t want to abandon him.

“Why’d you bring me here?” you retort through gritted teeth, motioning at the logged walls around you.

“Damn it, I thought it’d help, Cassie!”

The severity of his words leaves you speechless. You never heard him really raise his voice, let alone come close to yelling.

“But, clearly, I shouldn’t have bothered.” Tony moves from the doorway, taking fast steps past you towards the main door before you can say anything.

In an effort to keep him from storming out, you reach out for his arm as he brushes by. Instantly, he pulls away as if you're made of open flames. You try to show the hurt on your face, but now that your anger has started to dissipate, you notice a similar transformation in Tony. To your benefit, though, it keeps his feet firmly planted. 

“I’m not some broken person you need to protect.” you admit, avoiding the potential anger still in his eyes. 

“Wow, really? Didn’t know.” 

Always with the jokes and sarcasm. You lift your head to Tony’s expectant gaze, causing you to sigh heavily.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he states dryly, leaning back against the kitchen table. “Why are you still here?”

“You keep assuming I hate my life.” 

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, rather dramatically in your opinion. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” he responds, mocking your words from earlier. “You avoid me like the plague lately, and I don’t know how you expect me to just see you unhappy and say nothing”

“That has nothing to do with work-”

“Then what is it?” 

There’s something else in his eyes, something like the sparkle you saw all those months ago. 

You look at him with pleading eyes of your own. A sense of entrapment overwhelms you, stuck with the choice between potentially ruining everything or, well, still potentially ruining everything. You wish he really could just read your mind and understand. Understand that you didn’t want to leave him, that you were avoiding him to protect your own, admittedly fragile, heart. 

"Can't you just accept that I don't want to leave?" you manage, your voice barely louder than a pin drop.

Your heart flutters as he steps closer, though it shouldn't surprise you; he's never been one to respect personal space, and an argument wouldn't change that.

"No, I need to hear you say it," his tone is low, almost taunting, and his unyielding gaze sends another wave of fluttering through you.

"I don't want to leave you."

In the next second, Tony's lips crash against yours, pinning your back to the wall with a heavy thud. You don’t notice, the world fading with the taste of vanilla on your tongue and the scratch of his beard on your chin. Your thoughts become a blur as Tony's teeth graze your lips, and his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer, the arc reactor pressing into your skin. 

When the kiss ends, you're both left panting, yet he still clings to you, gripping your waist like he’s scared you’re going to run away. 

“I told you- the last thing I want is for you to leave.” he says sternly, voice still low. You can’t see his face, buried in the crook of your neck, but the heavy breath on your skin makes you lightheaded.

“Tony-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s wrong to think I know what’s best for you. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I care about you too much for that, Cassie.”

“I’m your assistant, Tony.”

Tony gently cups a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his, his thumb caressing your cheek. He studies your face intently, searching for any signs that he should stop while he's ahead. You stopped counting how often he leaves you a mess with his eyes, and try your best not to stare at his swollen lips.

“Then tell me you don’t feel the same.” he whispers.

A beat of silence passes, the fire crackling in the next room uninterrupted. 

“I…can’t.” you answer hesitantly.

The confession hangs heavy in the cabin’s stagnant air. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, waiting for the dream to end. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Doing this wrong, ruining everything.” Your eyes squeeze shut from embarrassment.

Tony laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, before kissing you again. It’s soft and slower than before, calloused hands still cupping your face.

“I think you’re the one who worries too much. When has anything bad happened to you when you’re with me?” Tony suggests, grinning, his eyes filled with warmth. 

You want to mention an office party a few months ago, where a drunk attendee threw up on your shoes, but you let him make his point. 

“Let me do the worrying for a bit, sound good?”

THREE WEEKS LATER

You felt like you traded seasons getting back to New York at the start of spring. You hadn’t gone home, instead staying in the tower at Tony’s request. You didn’t mind it at all, being surrounded with more comfort than you could ask for. 

Tony made it his personal mission to keep you away from all things work related, despite how many times you told him you enjoyed helping him. One small problem being that he left for a mission a few days ago, and you haven’t got the faintest clue where he was or when he was returning. The first day, you relished in a bit of solitude, reading books that sat on your shelf the last two years untouched or catching up with friends that you lost touch with. To your relief, most understood your reason for disconnecting, and the books were captivating. Now, however, it was day three, and you were starting to do the one thing he asked you not to— worry.

Just as the rain starts to splatter the tall windows of his penthouse, you’re considering reaching out to Fury or Hill to make sure he’s at least still breathing. The only thing that stops you is the ding! of the elevator, turning your nerves back down to zero.

When you meet him at the door, a wide smile breaks out on his face—surprised you’re still there.

“How was it?” you ask, as Tony drops his bag and moves towards you. You feel slightly awkward in this new territory with him, shifting your weight anxiously.

“We’re getting closer to the scepter. Hydra’s pulling out all the stops these days.” 

As Tony steps into the light, a deep freshly-stitched cut under his right eye comes into view. Before you can say anything about the cut, you notice the large bandage on his arm, and a matching bruise crawling up his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?” 

Tony slowly peels off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch behind you. “Oh, this? This is nothing, you should see the other guy.” he says with a flashy grin.

You’re busy scanning for more injuries, eyes raking for more bandages and stitches. Tony doesn’t let you continue for long though, taking your hands in his.

“What’d I tell you about worrying?” he teases, stroking your hair and planting a quick kiss on your lips.

You give an annoyed sigh, wishing he didn’t irritate and charm you in the same breath so much.

“I think it’s natural to worry when you’re bleeding.” you gruff, letting Tony pull you into a tight embrace. 

“Then I’m not doing my job, am I?” You don’t protest when his hands roam over your body, placing light kisses against your neck. “Let me take your mind off things.”

The light kisses on your neck turn into heavy bites, leaving marks along your collarbones. He creates his own path along your skin, sighing softly as his mouth finds every inch of skin your pajamas didn’t cover. You’re a panting mess as he trails down your body, twisting a hand into his messy locks. 

When he kneels before you, you feel unsteady on your feet. You wish you could say you two had gone this far already, but Tony considered himself a self-proclaimed gentleman and insisted you wait. It seems three days away from you was enough for the chivalry to fly out of the window. 

He stops for a moment, fingers hooked in your shorts, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“Cassian?”

“Mhm?” You mumble, shutting your eyes. Nerves and anticipation mix terribly in your stomach, making you unable to process the desire on his face. You feel the fabric of your shorts slide down your legs with your panties. The cool air doesn’t help you any, rendering your skin sensitive and Tony’s hand feel like a furnace. 

“Relax, doll.”

You suck in a breath as his lips wrap around your clit, body stilling— the hand in his hair tightening. Weeks of Tony’s insistent waiting had you thinking your first time with him would be slower- you were ill-prepared for the way he runs through your folds with absolute filth. He moans into you, keeping a tight hold on your thighs to hold you close. 

He’s quick—grazing teeth against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance— just to drag the tip of his tongue against your length and return your clit to start the cycle all over again. You feel the wetness coating the inside of your thighs, saturing his scratchy stubble on your skin. 

You bring your free hand to the back of the couch as he continues, sighing into your core and sending shockwaves up your spine. You try to maintain some type of balance, legs growing shaky again in pleasure rather than anxiety for a change. 

“Tony, god, that’s-” You’re cut off by your own moan when you feel Tony insert a finger into your soaking cunt, rocking slowly as his mouth finds its way back to your clit.

He pulls away a moment, letting his thumb keep the pressure against your sensitive bud. Your head tilts back, nails digging into the leather behind you. Out of your view, Tony wears a smug grin, pleased to see you taking his directive to heart. The middle of the living room might not have been his first choice, but it’s well worth it. Besides the fact you taste like heaven, it’s worth hearing every sound escape your lips.

Getting caught up in that, however, caused him to loosen the grip on your thighs. When his fingers curve inside you, your hips jerk against him. The calloused fingers tighten on your legs, to your slight dismay.

“Easy, doll, I got you.” he mumbles, returning his focus to eliciting more intoxicating moans from you.

Tony renders you a complete mess sooner than you’d like to admit, gasping above him as the warmth in your core grows overwhelming. If you told yourself a year ago that your boss would have you panting and begging, you wouldn’t believe it. Regardless of belief, his tongue pulls plea after plea from you. Your stomach feels painfully coiled- mind absorbed with the wet, filthy sound of Tony’s mouth on your cunt.

With another curve of his finger, you sent over the edge—crying out Tony’s name like a prayer and abandoning the hand tangled in his hair to hold yourself up. Tony lets you ride out your orgasm against his fingers, kissing the damp skin between your legs and muttering soft praises. 

It’s not until you sense him standing again in front of you that you open your eyes. You immediately want to take it back when you see the shit-eating grin covering his shiny face. The sight sends a new wave of desire through you, staring at his mouth with your lips parted, panting softly. Did he have to look so good constantly?

“As cute as you are when you’re worried, I think I prefer this look on you.”

[suchawrathfullamb]

How To Get:

The Monster's Beloved Aura

Energetic configurations series where we explore the astrological and numerological components of various "vibes".

For this analysis I looked into the birth date of Winona Ryder (and two bonus actresses) who has played several roles as the "monster's beloved", revealing an archetypal pattern.

Winona has 21/3 as her Expression number, and 30/3 as Life Path, and 15/6 as Soul Urge. This of course shows us a prominence of the number 3 on her configurations (6 being its multiple).

Number 3, being 2+1 stands for the duality of god, or the division of unity, relationship/mirror, and number 3 is the expression of that relationship: when one divides into two and from that union, a third element is born. Number 3, then, symbolizes creativity as well, being the expression.

Arcane number 3 is The Empress, the card of penetration into matter, she is the verb, the ternary, nature, fecundity, and generation in the three worlds.

Three also carries a special role as mother, father, holy spirit, or yin, yang and wholeness.

Having 21 as her Expression, gives her the aura (how she is perceived on the unconscious level) of the combined energies of The World, High Priestess, Magician, generating The Empress. Meaning, Mother of ecstasy. The one who elevates the spirit. For The 21th Arcane is The World: Joy, recognition, wealth. Represents the feminine element. It is the crowning of the work. The absolute integrity. Therefore, when it reduces to 3, Empress, who is The Verb, it manifests as someone who embodies on a physical, carnal level, what The World symbolizes.

The Monster seeks to have its spirit elevated by her, to find the ecstasy he has lost in the process of becoming a monster. The connection to his soul, the bliss of the senses, and love in its purest form (love of the goddess/mother archetype).

And by having 30/3 as Life Path, it emphasizes her spiritual role as The Mother, the one who blesses. Zero here symbolizes the Universe (⭕️), the void, the vacuity that holds all potential, and it speaks to the path of Creation, of fecundating the void and creating something out of nothing. Soul Urge as 15/6 manifests in her romantic roles as the lover of the monster, as 6 is The Lovers and 15 is The Devil, creating, literally, "union with the monster".

The Monsters, in this case, are always powerful individuals who were casted into the shadows, and who crave the love that has been neglected for them, and in a less direct way in Beetlejuice, as a means into the physical realm, but still fitting the pattern of the desire for life (given by the mother).

And, in many of these, she does love or accept the monster, expressing the unconditionality of Love, but also manifesting Arcane 15, The Devil, which craves that which is carnal and seen as devious. Which makes sense as The Urge number, where we magnetize that which our soul urges/craves for.

By embodying this energy, as a spiritual practice, one is able to transform death into life (that which is lifeless gains vitality), and elevate/sublimate decay into abundance (that which is deteriorating is restored).

You can embody it by chanting the mantra Shrim.

Shrim is the seed mantra of Lakshmi, the Goddess of prosperity and abundance, and the consort of Lord Vishnu, the preserver in the Hindu trinity of great Gods, and brings Lakshmi’s many blessings.

Shrim is the mantra of faith, devotion, refuge and surrender. It can be used to take refuge in or express devotion to any deity, helping us to gain its favor and grace.

Shrim is mainly a Kapha (watery and earthy) mantra for improving health, happiness, fertility, love and calmness of mind. It is particularly important for women’s health and brings proper function and circulation to the female reproductive system. Shrim has a soothing effect on the mind and emotions, allowing us to surrender to Divine grace and take refuge in the higher powers.

If you want to embody through a more theatrical approach, you can role play this type of energy by emulating its style.

As I've mentioned before, the bonus actresses are Isabelle Adjani and Emmy Rossum, who played the same archetype in Nosferatu and Phantom of the Opera, respectively.

Here are some of the repeating patterns in terms of aesthetics:

- The color white, in gowns specially, as it is associated with a state of purity (not virginity, purity as in unaltered). Which then, progressively changes into black and red, mirroring the alchemical processes represented by the three colors.

- Flowy fabrics that denote the sensuality and daintiness.

- Natural looking hair that call to a kind of organic vibe.

- Minimal but enhancing makeup. It particularly enhances the eyes (magnetism) and the lips (consumption, temptation), and also goes for a more pale (not as in white but as in "bloodless") complexion with only the cheeks as the colored areas (as opposed to tons of contour and bronzer, for example), marking the heated energy of sexual arousal but still remaining dainty.

[bestforall1165]

What are the alternatives to insulin for type 2 diabetes?

[a-d-nox]

pac/pap: what is the energy that surrounds you and how can you best protect your energy?

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: what happens when you take actions on your dreams?

masterlist of pap/pac posts

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energy around you: i sense that you are healing from something. i actually feel proud of you, pulling this card - you seem hopeful that things are changing for the better, and they truly are. you feel inspired again - i encourage you to create again. i feel like you write or paint? so by all mean - have at it, the block is over. the mental health struggles are getting better and you are currently on the right track so keep it up! keep healing; keep growing.

how to protect your energy: you're energy is extremely sensitive right now. i sense that you feel antagonized by someone at this moment - perhaps by the person you are healing from or someone is poking at you and the mental wounds you are healing. think ethically - would confrontation or defensive remarks make the situation better or worse? perhaps remember that they too are likely going through something. why worsen their possible situation? note that no matter what you do, there is a chance for "difficulties" and "strain" to arise. be the bigger person.

pile 2

energy around you: you are starting the process of a spiritual awakening. know that to continue moving forward and "awakening" you must acknowledge and accept the past for what it is - the past. release any resentment you have and move forward - you do not have to forgive anyone face-to-face you can simply do so on you own. do what you must so you can move forward and not feel held back by the past. your future is bright - no need to dwell in the dust and dark of the past. put your energy into noticing signs from the universe (perhaps practice some shuffle-mancy - put a playlist on shuffle and listen to the first song's lyrics for your message). try not to be too tough on yourself as you let go of the past and embrace the future.

how to protect your energy: as i said before you are a strong person with a bright future, so i trust that you will do what you must - if you see something must be done, take action and do it. connect with your inner authority - protect your inner child, if you are forgiving someone face to face actively remember that your inner child still exists. going face to face with someone who brings you trauma or anxiety does cause age regression in some cases - acknowledge your younger self and remember the growth you have done. you have the ability to protect that inner child. remember to think beyond just yourself - it might not be worth digging up the past when we have presently gone so far. additionally advised: practice self-empowering mantras and affirmations.

pile 3

energy around you: you are moving into a gaining cycle - do not linger on previous fears of challenge and loss but at the same time learn to show gratitude for what is about to come into you life. recall your previous beliefs in change and now rewrite it to see it as a warning that things do change and you can experience loss again. something i sense you should work on is focusing on the spiritual world rather than the material one. you are a clever person, which is not something that can be quantified so stop trying to show everyone what you are instead simply being what you are. if you are dealing with health woes at the moment - try to ground your mindset into that of healing into of suffering. live life as though it could be worse and as though it could be better, instead of taking it for granted that you are "stabilized/stabilizing" because change is inevitable.

how to protect your energy: be generous. the best way to promote your new found prosperity and gains are to model how you wish to be treated and/or wished you were treated in your times of need. step into that leadership role - being a model or figurehead for charitable services can help you to remember where you were, where you are, and where you are going. it is also a great time to get the support of the positive masculine figure(s) in your life; perhaps they can aid you in your journey to connect past, present, and future via their connections/funds. the main message for you is to donate to passion projects and volunteer with those in need. don't focus too had on getting others involved; focus on you and your journey. whatever you can give back, no matter how small, will be appreciated without a doubt.

[pumperpup]

Jeff's life was a well-oiled machine, timed to the rhythm of dumbbell clanks and protein shakes. As a top fitness trainer with a chiseled physique, he was the epitome of health and discipline. But life had a surprise in store, one that would turn his well-structured world upside down.

It started one morning when Jeff, famed for his washboard abs, noticed his belly was... different. Not the usual "I-ate-too-much-pizza" different, but "Why-does-it-look-like-I'm-three-months-pregnant" different. A visit to the doctor, and several bewildering tests later, the impossible was confirmed: Jeff was pregnant.

At first, Jeff thought it was a practical joke. But when morning sickness hit him like a freight train, reality sunk in. His gym buddies were in disbelief, watching their role model swap deadlifts for ginger tea and saltine crackers.

Jeff's journey was nothing short of hilarious. His cravings were unpredictable and fierce. He once halted a training session to devour a jar of pickles. His mood swings were legendary, turning from drill sergeant to weepy mess in the blink of an eye. His once immaculate gym attire was replaced by baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirts.

Despite the challenges, Jeff's spirit never waned. He started a blog: "Dad-Bod Diaries," chronicling his journey. It was an instant hit. People couldn’t get enough of his humorous take on pregnancy woes: from his struggle to tie his shoes to attending a prenatal yoga class, where he awkwardly outstretched among expectant mothers.

As his due date approached, Jeff’s perspective on fitness and life evolved. He learned to listen to his body, trading high-intensity workouts for gentler routines. He began to appreciate fitness as a journey rather than a destination, a mantra he passionately shared with his clients.

The big day arrived with its own set of comedic misadventures. Jeff went into labor in the middle of a spin class. Panicked, he was whisked away by his gym buddies on a gym bench-turned-stretcher, creating a spectacle as they clumsily navigated through the busy city streets to the hospital.

Jeff's delivery room was a circus of laughter and tears. His gym friends, who had become his support system, were there every step of the way, providing comic relief and emotional support. When Jeff finally held his baby, the room erupted in cheers. It was a moment of pure joy and triumph.

Life post-pregnancy was a new adventure for Jeff. He was now not just a trainer but a role model for embracing life's curveballs. His classes were more popular than ever, infused with his newfound wisdom and humility. He even started a "Baby and Me" workout session, integrating his child into his fitness regime.

The "Dad-Bod Diaries" continued, now filled with anecdotes of juggling fatherhood and fitness. Jeff's story was a testament to the unpredictable nature of life, and the beauty found in rolling with the punches. He had not only transformed his body but also his heart and mind, inspiring countless others along the way.

And so, Jeff's journey continued, one laugh, one lift, and one diaper change at a time.

[aweightyissue]

On Weight Loss and Morality

Conversations around weight and weight loss have always been contentious.

The oft repeated mantra of weight loss has been “there is no silver bullet.”

It’s a jeering remark meant to chide dieters for trying anything beyond eating skinless chicken breast and 20 hours a week working out.

If you want to lose weight you have to pay the penance for every excess pound. You have to earn it.

Their smug satisfaction of watching weight loss aids fail is salt in the wound. They snickered at limitations and failure of Amphetamines, PhenFen, Ephedrine, Orlistat, LapBands, and Gastric Bypass.

See? You can’t cheat your way out. You did this to yourself, now you must suffer the consequences.

An anti weight loss movement emerged in opposition to this mentality. Body positivity is a healthy response to diet culture; making the radical assertion that existing in your body, the way it is, without trying to change, is not only okay, it’s a good thing.

Love your body and focus on being healthy. Your weight is not your worth. This cannot be said enough. Your worth in this world is not related to how your body looks.

When around came GLP-1 medications, the reactions have been fascinating.

The drugs themselves are remarkably effective, and instead of targeting the weight, they correct the underlying metabolic problem. They’ve been on the market for years and are generally known to be safe.

The ire toward them, is in some ways unsurprising.

No! You can’t do it the easy way! You have to work at it!

You’re stealing them from the deserving- the diabetics. Ironically, the same people they blame for their own illness.

The body positivity crowd response is fascinating as well. Taking the drugs is a betrayal. You shouldn’t want to change your body. You’re giving into diet culture. You shouldn’t want to fit conventional beauty standards.

The response has been negative from both sides. People feel entitled to police the bodies and choices you make about your body.

Both of these reactions are moral judgments. You have to pay for your sins. Either for gluttony or vanity.

The thing is, there should be no judgement at all.

Weight loss requires a lot of mental energy. You have to commit your mental and physical energy to it. There are a million reasons why someone can’t or doesn’t want to do that. And that’s okay. There is no reason why you should feel obligated to.

However, ignoring the very real disabling effects of obesity is also a kind of denial of humanity. It’s not anyone’s business, and to condemn someone for trying to prevent or correct the effects is kind of cruelty all its own.

There’s no reason someone should have to justify their desire to change their bodies or their efforts to do so.

Try to love your body, regardless of its size, but it’s okay if you want to lose weight and you don’t have to justify your reasons or your decision to use medication to do it.

Everyone else, support people if they choose to change their bodies as well as when they choose not to. It’s not your decision, your business or your place to judge them.

We, the body positivity advocates don’t criticize trans people for changing their bodies because they’re unhappy with the way it looks. We don’t shame people with disfiguring congenital defects who choose to have corrective surgery; even when it poses no health risk. We understand the very real effects of social stigma, and wouldn’t criticize them for avoiding it.

You’re punishing people trying to lose weight for the sins of vanity and envy.

The other assholes, you wouldn’t tell a cancer patient “there’s no silver bullet” or snicker when an experimental or risky treatment fails. You don’t tell people with high blood pressure or high cholesterol that taking medicine is “taking the easy way out.” You know it’s cruel, you simply want to punish people for the sins of gluttony and sloth.

All I’m saying is - leave the people taking weight loss meds alone.

Weight is not a moral issue.

Weight is not a moral issue.

Weight is not a moral issue.

Weight is not a moral issue.

Weight is not a moral issue.

[choicesfandomappreciation]

Yoga and Guided Breathing/Meditation Resources

Thank you to everyone who shared resources to make this list possible!

Calm (Youtube) [also an app]

Calm is all about mindfulness, the practice of paying attention to our thoughts, emotions and experiences without judgement. App for Google PlayApp for Apple

Edyn Loves Life (Youtube)

Hey guys im Edyn! I am a plus size yoga teacher proving that health is a lifestyle not a size. I wan't everyone to see what a plus size lifestyle truly is! I'm super focused on holistic health, mindfullness and buiding confidence in others. 10-minute Beginner Friendly Yoga Calming Flow Wake up or Wind Down Stretch (10 minutes)

Fightmaster Yoga (Youtube)

Don't worry if you're not flexible or can't do the poses perfectly. The motto of Fightmaster Yoga is "It's not about the pose". You don't have to be perfect. Beginner's Yoga 30 Day Challenge Yoga for Beginners 30 Day Challenge Suggested by @thosehallowedhalls

Finch (app) [includes guided breathing, yoga, activities, journaling and more]

Adopt a self-care pet and work on day-to-day goals, track your mood, journal, complete breathing activities, and more (Free and Paid versions available) For: Google Play For: Apple

New Horizon - Meditation & Sleep Stories (Youtube)

Meditation for adults and children

Meditative Mind Channel (Youtube)

At the core of Meditative Mind is the music. We record, compose, produce everything in house, with every one putting their hearts & souls and lots of positive vibes in creating these soundscapes, mantra chants, chakra healing music. Suggested by @thosehallowedhalls

Moves with Agnes (Youtube)

Includes a wide variety of yoga practices, with videos that support those struggling with hormonal imbalances (including PCOS)

The Quiet Place (website)

Sit quietly for 30 seconds, no distractions and just breathe

Stretch & Yoga Playlist by MadFit (Youtube)

Top 3 as suggested by @peonyblossom 1) Beginner Flexibility Routine 2) 20 Minute Stretch/Yoga for Stress & Anxiety Relief 3) 15 Minute Stretch/Yoga for Stress & Anxiety Relief

Workout for Women: Fitness (App) [includes yoga]

For: Google Play For: Apple Suggested by @peonierose

You're Amazing (Resources by @choicesfandomappreciation)

A helpful list of : words/quotes of encouragement, self care ideas, links and resources, apps, & media recommendations to help strengthen your mental health

Yoga With Adriene (Youtube)

Favorites as suggested by @aria-ashryver 1) Blanket Yoga (blankets + a dog!) 2) Yoga to Heal Stress 3) Meditation for Self-Love

Yoga with Bird (Youtube)

Includes an extensive array of videos and diverse options for practitioners (including Pilates)

*If you have other resources to add to this list, please let me know*