#letting myself relax and passively absorb things

[foxxyrola]

Step 0: Learning to Learn

The biggest challenge in my self improvement journey begins with a question: "How in the nine hells am I supposed to sit my ass down and learn anything? My body just keeps pacing around, looking for yet another distraction. iwi"

Don't get me wrong, I desperately want to apply myself, just struggle in the initiation. And the follow through. I would take a few lessons in learning Godot for game making, then move on to something else, new and shiny. I'd learn all the Hiragana, but then not touch the Japanese language for weeks. All ambition, no action, or something like that.

Being fed up with this, I do get moments where honestly I sometimes just have to, well... Do things! Anything. I'm desperate for the dopamine hit of accomplishing something non vidya gayme related. I have to plant my ass in a chair (even if it takes an hour of pacing before I can even settle down), and give myself something to focus on as if it's life or death. I'd journal when I can. Watch some informative videos without absorbing much of it. Get stuck passively on self help YouTube and all that.

Well... It seems I got something out of it. Lately been looking into Cybersecurity (just a surface dive, like most of my dives are) and in addition to learning a little about certifications and stuff, I discovered that Coursera is a good place to find some lessons (for free too mind you, as long as you don't need their certificates or whatevs) not just for coding, but for many other things.

This is one of these (free) courses that I found: https://www.coursera.org/learn/learning-how-to-learn

Yup, learning how to learn. Seems cheesy. Almost blew it off and didn't take it. But hey, night shifts give me a bit of free time each night, so chooms, I jumped in about a week ago and without a doubt, I certainly do not regret it.

So far in the first week of the course I watched all the necessary videos, and passed the simple quizzes for week 1. The course establishes two modes of thinking every human uses: focused and diffuse. Focused being when you think deeply on something you know how to solve already, following established prestructured neural pathways. Diffuse on the other hand being that abstract association you get when you passively sift through your brain, in sleep and relaxing, and when you're not actively looking for a concrete solution but rather let your mind wander and put things together.

Now, I've heard about routine and pomodoro techniques and taking breaks to space out learning, but it seems that with this course, something clicked. Applying the things I learned by taking personal summary notes afterwards and both actively and passively thinking about what I've just absorbed, I suddenly felt fulfilled.

I started a self care routine (nothing super much yet, just 2 hours of unwinding and exercise and meditating before bed among other things) by setting up a schedule in an app I found called RoutineFlow. Yeah, I'm not getting it consistently yet, but every day I try to at least take a step to do what I gotta do, that little push that'll help me work through stuff. I just want to get myself to do the basics so that I can grow from there.

Then I encountered my first obstacle: taking notes. The Learning to Learn course has optional materials: readings, interviews, all that fun scop. I go through fairly passively til I encounter one material. A short paper with notes on note taking from Harvard. Some 30 pages. I know I need this, I know I need to sit down and do this as it'll help.

But I couldn't do it. One day, then another day, then the weekend passes, and now I'm back at work again on Monday. My legs are restless, can't seem to sit down and do things.

So I start writing this blog. Immediately afterwards... I still can't do it.

I walk around, pace, try and sit down... Another 30 minutes passes before I open things up and begin taking notes. I literally force myself to sit, set a 25 minute pomodoro... Ok now just gotta focus in this time. Come on I can do it...!

Oh hey I'm doing it! I'm actually doing it! I start learning the material, taking some Cornell Notes on it(a good way to review notes and test yourself die to its structure) as soon as the time'l ran up, I take a break. Wow! That actually wasn't so hard. The hardest part was just sitting down and telling myself that this is what I wanna learn.

So over my free time at work over a few 25 min sessions, I learnt the importance of taking notes in my own words, reviewing them often but not cramming all at once, and testing myself on my knowledge.

It was just that first step. But hey, the more I do this, the easier it gets! Consistency, that's the name of the game. I may not have learned any new coding skills or any new words or anything, but the experience has been a most important one.

Anyways, as I finish this up, it is now time for my morning self care routine. Feeling accomplished, I think things can only get easier if I keep setting aside the time and rewarding myself consistently.

Just gotta put my ass in the chair.

[cassie-moore]

I just see Jo on the street sign and realize a sting as i watch him w his pasta. I try to remind myself he said to lean into feelings - i dont know what else to do but write them and let go of them on the page

Feelings - get them out on page. Leave them there

My heart dropped…just noticed..why is he repping the ring again, the heart (symbolic of her heart obviously)…its already ended and then back again, and over and back again…its already tainted w her, the “heart” of that girl? And he reps it? I dont understand what is going on…this cannot be real. Where is Gerald? The guy that sees all of it clearly. Someone wake me up from this surrealistic nightmare. How can everything else in life be so quality and then theres this self-absorbed girl who’s focused on having it handed to her, passive aggressively puppeting a man that stands firm on his feet without her. Puppeting prob w her texts. She prob sends him pictures nonstop. Her behavior is the kind i cant take. Think again bout Vegas and how was just “jesus” after five min.

Its like all of us are all advancing and making strides and shes just stagnant. Get it out cass…get it on the page and leave it there.

I have no other nicer way of saying shes lazy. Because she just is. Different approach my ass or whatever she wrote the girl in his group…i dont even remember, because she’s irrelevant to it all. Which is prob why i get so flustered … bc i dont want him attached to that irrelevancy when he’s the epitome of relevant to my core

And the heart. After its already been tainted

I guess hes back sleeping w her? Is that why hes wearing it again. What stings my heart are the thoughts that Im probably better in bed than her too. Her whole persona seems ick, drab. Just get it out on the page cass, get it out and leave because as true as it all is, you are too quality to say any of it. Keep it classy.

How does he not see the mid that others do.. even hate typing mid but my brain cant even think her name, let alone write it, without breaking it into two syllables like forrest gump

And who wants to feel like forrest gump

And name.. cant tell but at the quick glance it looks like he was in the YSL store. My favorite designer for yearrrs. He doesnt even know the handbag collection i sketched for a proposed Cassandra collection-a dream board item tucked away. He prob doesnt know my name is Cassandra. I assume he knows the story behind the insignia name the Cassandre…after Cassandre himself. I just write my fluster on the page bc i see womens clothes behind him, gorgeous stuff, and he’s prob buying them for her. Just like her dinners. Just like that pasta theyre eating that i would have cooked for him if he wanted me to. Just like all her trips he took her on or sent her to relax.. relax from what i have no idea…on trips to places i wanted to see and would have loved to bond w him. He prob paid for her apartment. The amount of money hes prob spent on a girl that doesnt work (i mean boss bitches who are queens work even when they have a baby or child at home)…i mean his exes worked and were accomplished…shed prob try to use having babies as an excuse not to work. She seems like that type. Thats not me. And shes def not any boss babe. I dont see her as a “queen” thats fsure. And she def doesnt inspire people. I mean sure id love to just sit and produce music all day bc thats my art, but how would my bills get paid? Im certainly not out there trying to figure out what guy is going to pay for me next. I have created something profound to bring to the table. Girls who sit at home and walk around all day waiting for guys to pay for their things go from a ten to a six.

I feel like ive typed all this before. About her. And all this redrumming bc hes back to repping “her heart” on his finger. I cant even watch the video of him on stage at 11 - i want to - but that damn silver heart is all i see. She prob asked him to wear it, or suggested, or made him - even worse🙄. He looks at her and must see a “supermodel” (which she is not…because supermodels are driven and dont need a man to tell them to be driven). She just feels gross forever that night in vegas to me.. yet he chooses to re *her heart…. Over someone like mine.

“All i can control is my work.”

Thoughts back to my Cassandra YSL… him buying her things (or getting things for her to rep even worse) from my favorite designer is just such a knife in my heart. Especially when i cant even remember the last time i shopped for myself…it had to have been like 9 years ago. I invested all of my money in investments or music

Music, Producing, Cassandra YSL, Cooking, Touring, Shows, i am realizing what my dreams are now

Speakng of shows ft w jenn before they leave in ten. Theyve been working hard on the lineups

[dismuch47]

DEAL

SIZE: Drabble

Tony and Vision, shortly after Berlin, post CW. Introspective.

Vision halted in his graceful stride down the dimly lit corridor, turning his head towards the wall that separated him from her room. The synthezoid’s body turned fully to the wall, about to phase through.

Vision, we’ve talked about this…

His head turned slightly to the left, luminescent eyes fixed on the door handle. He took a few more steps to the left and raised a lightly closed fist to knock on the door.

No answer, obviously. It was but an empty gesture. An echo.

His long fingers closed around the handle and he admitted himself into the preserved space. He didn’t bother to turn on the light, as he could see in the dark perfectly, but after standing in the center of that lifeless room, he eventually  stooped to plug in the starry light strand that she had hung haphazardly around her desk. It provided some warmth to the scene, but it was ultimately unsatisfying to Vision.

His gaze roved over cut-outs, maps, dangling necklaces and crystals, a few scented candles…and then to her guitar. She had tried to teach him a few chords, but it always sounded wrong. The soft pads of her fleshy fingers always elicited something so much sweeter and spontaneous than his calculating vibranium digits ever could.

He floated in the center of the room, taking in all the objects, effects, and furniture he knew so well, hoping to find some new crumb of data that he had overlooked. That would perhaps enrich his collective knowledge of Wanda Maximoff even more, giving him the inexplicable warmth he always felt as he learned something new about his special teammate.

But he never did. Not anymore. Everything had been over-analyzed until it had lost all meaning completely. She was gone and this space was now devoid of stimulation.

“Vision? Where you at buddy?”

Stark’s voice pulled Vision back from the nothingness, and in a matter of moments, he was phasing through marble floor to join his creator’s side. 

“And there he is.” Tony didn’t take his sunglasses off or look up from his phone. Vision already knew that it was Pepper Potts confirming diner reservations. The technology whispered out to Vision, even if he didn’t focus. He let the information absorb into him, but kept his hunched demeanor.

“You’re seriously going to the hearing in that?” Tony finally said, taking a quick look at the synthezoid. “It’s  a little… battle ready, don’t you think?” Vision looked down at his armored green-gray bio armor suit. He had not felt the need to wear anything other than his default setting. Not with everyone in the Avengers Tower gone. No one to impress with his once blooming fashion preferences. Vision looked back at Tony.

“Colonel Rhodes… is not riding with us” he observed.

“Rhodey is going to meet up with us there. He-” Stark hesitated, lowering his phone. “… It’s easier for him that way. Still acclimating to the bionic legs.”

Vision looked down. “He has not spoken to me since Berlin. Under the same roof and yet today is the first time I shall see him talk about the… the incident.”

“The accident.” Tony corrected firmly. “Now… do your thing. Bibbity Bobbity boo yourself something more…”

“Human?”

“Just some recognizable cotton blends would be nice. Business dress preferred.” Tony side, still not making eye-contact.

Vision cocked his head at Tony, unblinking. Annoyance churning within him, though he didn’t fully understand why. The textured, ethereal material morphed into a black suit that mirrored Tony’s, down to the red gradient pixel tie at his tan throat. Vision slipped a maroon hand into his own slacks pocket, mirroring the man.

Tony looked up at the synthezoid and frowned. He ripped off his glasses with frustration. “Is this a tantrum? Some passive aggressive bullshit, Vision? Cause I gotta tell you, I’m not really in the mood…”

Vision’s eyes were narrowed at Tony, defiant… but like a sudden switch, the mood passed, leaving the synthezoid feeling rather foolish for having emoted something as fruitless as… pettiness. “I apologize, Tony.” Vision let the black color of his suit saturate to a rich navy color, and his tie thinned and blackened. “I have not been myself as of late.”

The billionaire inventor grimaced, putting his phone away at last. He raised an awkward hand to place on Vision’s broad shoulder. “None of us have.” There was a sadness in his tone, though he meant to be comforting. The schism between Steven Rogers and Tony Stark had left the Avengers in splintered pieces. Everyone had felt it. Even a being still learning about human nature. Tony cleared this throat and clapped the synthezoid’s arm to lighten the mood. “But how about we focus on you for now, huh? On making you seem as personable and functional as possible.”

“Of course.” Vision retorted, though his creator ignored how monotone he sounded. Or perhaps he didn’t notice; the synthezoid was still trying to master sarcasm at this point. It displeased the vibranium being to be instructed to change his mood like a switch. Undoing the organic evolution in discovering his personality he had undergone for so long. To please Tony, he stood straighter and adorned a subtle and relaxed set to his mouth-line and cerulean eyes, calculating that it would read as “pleasant” and “approachable.”

“Much better.” Tony appraised. He watched as Vision paused and shimmered as he changed his density to be able to board the hummer without crashing through it. The all powerful android-creation that saved earth… gingerly buckling an unneeded seatbelt. Tony sighed, feeling as though he was watching a child perform a pantomime, finished with his own seatbelt and leaned in towards Vision. “If we can get through this day…” he said, sincerity in his tone that even Vision could detect. “…Then I promise we’ll revisit that… ah… ‘human excursions’ request. Leave the compound. Work on that bucket list of yours…”

The pleasant look on Vision’s face genuinely deepened, pleased with this trade.

“Deal.” Vision confirmed.

[funkymbtifiction]

I’m loving these 9 posts (and also your updated system - it’s really helpful to see the general concepts and specific character examples woven together!). I definitely relate to the recent 9 who said they feel their anger. I could basically agree to everything in that post - especially the anger directed at myself when I don’t stop an interaction that is exhausting me. The other thing that I struggle with is the idea that 9s should reach out. I’m trying to reach out, but in doing so, I’m also opening myself up to the sting of rejection. I end up feeling bitter when someone who I would like to cultivate a friendship with never reaches out first (after the initial interactions) or casually says things that seem unkind. For example, if we’re talking about music and I say (very politely) that I think a particular song is over-rated, and the other person responds with something like - “But a lot of people like it so maybe you’re missing something” it hurts. I don’t expect to be agreed with on everything - I like discussing differences of opinion. But when something like this happens I get stuck in a cycle of getting angry, then wondering if maybe I’m too sensitive, then thinking maybe I should apologize for offending them, then realizing that I only want to apologize so they will realize they came across in an antagonistic way and apologize to ME… Then I decide my whole approach to people is false/manipulative and friendship is over-rated and I don’t want to even try anymore. Hermit life, ahoy! The fear of being a bother and an unwanted intrusion is always there and it is often very strong. Do they feel compelled to respond because I messaged them or reached out in person? At what point should I stop attempting to connect? But I also get angry and think “Really? You have so many friends that you don’t want one more, even though we’ve had some fun times together and you’ve told me you enjoyed spending time with me?” And I honestly don’t want a really intimate “kindred spirit” type relationship with most friends - I just want to enjoy a good conversation now and then and to feel like my input is valuable to that person. I want them to sometimes ask me what my latest obsession is or how I feel about a particular topic. And being a 9w1 (with a lot of 1 traits) I’m much harder on myself than on other people. Obviously, if there is a problem, it is my fault. Even if I thought about my message 100 times before sending it, it must have come across wrong, and this is why it’s hard for a 9 to relax and “just be” - at least if you carefully craft a smart/funny/insightful message than you can feel that you did your best, even if you fail to connect with the other person. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it is certainly good for 9s to be encouraged to reach out. We need the permission! But, fellow 9, if you do reach out, be prepared for some people to reject you, and try not to let rejection make you bitter about people in general. There ARE people who will care about you and be interested in what you have to say. But it may take time to find them - even a lifetime. I apologize if the above comes across as passive aggressive - but maybe other 9s will relate and feel they aren’t alone? Or will write in with tips on how they deal with the positives and negatives of reaching out? 

Mod Note: You know what helps you get over the fear of rejection? Being rejected and realizing -- it changes nothing about your life. You lost nothing that you previously owned. The more rejection you face, the less frightening it is and the less seriously you take it. People have many reasons to not respond to you -- and it’s not all about you or what you did wrong. That’s taking too much on yourself. They are busy, preoccupied, fellow 9s who procrastinate  ;), have a hectic home life, aren’t good at answering texts or e-mails, etc. Some of them are scatterbrains, others are self-absorbed. Learn to shrug and go “oh well” and look for the next fun person who might want to be friends. Life is an adventure. There are millions of people on this planet. Will most of them want to be your friend? No, but some of them will, so keep looking for them.

Feel disappointment, rather than insulted. Then brush it off and try again.

I know it’s hard, but it’s also important to learn to guard your feelings. By that, I mean try not to take everything personally. If you are a feeling dominant in particular (and you sound like one), it’s doubly difficult not to feel hurt all the time by careless remarks, but... you don’t want to walk on eggshells around people all the time (and shouldn’t have to) and the same is true for them. Remind yourself that it’s likely they did not mean to hurt your feelings and ask yourself if that offhanded remark is really worth feeling upset about. I heard something good the other day from a 9 that I really liked -- she said, “Ask yourself if this will matter in a week.” If not, don’t sweat it.

Keep searching. You will find people who want to talk as much as you do. Right now in particular there is a lot of lonely people out there who want friends. :)

[killmebutneverinsultme2]

Rules for mobile (Pinned Post)

The Code

Success. I’ve sufficiently pestered the wench to make me a blog, much to the cost of a certain behorned mischief god whose presence I must share. Follow the rules below, and there’ll be smooth sailin’, savvy?

This be an exceptionally selective blog. I was me mun’s first ever muse yonks back and I’ve pestered her into writing me again, BUT, she’s horribly pressed for time. Partners will likely be very few, else ones doubling up with Loki’s. Anyone is welcome to approach and enquire, but she and I will be leaning toward those either from me own universe or crossovers with which she’s highly familiar and characters in whom she’s especially interested. Ye have been warned.

Replies are like to be slow, up to a few weeks at most.

Partners must be 18+. Various themes of an adult nature may be found here. Sexual things will be tagged ‘#filthy pirate’ with whatever level/variety of sin I deem them. More details below.

Behave. There shall be no rudeness, no passive aggression, no hate, no censorship or generally being a twit. Do I make meself clear?

The Code - Extended (below the cut)

Hi, guys. I’m Pirate (oddly known as this long before I made Jack a tumblr). Here are my more detailed rules and guidelines for writing with me on this blog, though the absolute basics are at the top as, honestly, it’s never easy to remember everyone’s requirements.

Jack is a sideblog. If you’re being followed by a benevolentgodloki that means I’m following you back. I don’t need us to be mutuals (both following each other) for us to write together, but there is a greater chance of us having a partnership if we’re letting each other know we’re interested.

How I Roll

I note myself as ‘highly selective’. This isn’t to be an elitist bugger, it’s because we all only have a limited amount of time we can put in. I want to write what I enjoy with people I enjoy. I am married with two attention-seeking cats, two jobs, a slow-brewing intended writing career and a video game addiction.

Asks/Memes - I will usually answer these no matter who they are from but I may or may not turn them into a thread I intend to keep. Some memes are very much designed to be something that continues so context can be key. If you would like to know in advance whether I intend to answer and/or keep something, please do pop me a message and I will be kind and honest.

My Threads - While Jack’s blog is still exciting and new, I’m being a bit all over the place with who and what I reply to depending on which way Jack’s.. compass.. is pointing. I do have a rolling turn order that I adhere to (to the point that I can genuinely tell you who is next at any given moment) but it’s all piled in with Loki’s threads, meaning I can take a few weeks to get round everything. Every partner gets one of their threads answered within that ‘round’ and then I go round again. However, when I’m really into something/finding something easy to pop back, I treat myself to spamming certain threads or partners at my whim. I use rpthreadtracker.com to maintain what I have. 

I will remind partners of threads that have not been replied to for more than three months. If I do not do this, I have either forgotten/lost it myself, I’m not too fussed about keeping it at that stage, or you were absent for a long period of time. 

My Style - I will write in both past or present tense depending on partner preference. My default is past but I like either. Please kick me if I screw up and write the wrong one. I prefer using regular size font but I will make mine small on replies to people who use the smaller so that it looks neat. I will often match partners’ lengths and some formatting details e.g. bolding dialogue, but I struggle with doing novella-length posts for reasons below.

I have a bugbear to admit about role-play. What we call splicing. A good half of my partners write this way so I’m not about to tell everyone to stop but if you’re someone who does this, you will occasionally run into some frustrations when writing with me. ‘Splicing’ is when you retrospectively write dialogue or actions as having previously happened during your partner’s last post. These things are fine when they’re passive i.e. your character muttered them, thought them or you were writing what your character was doing at the time because that’s pretty much essential. The trouble comes usually when my characters talk a lot/ask rhetorical questions and partners choose to answer every single one despite the fact my character carried on talking. I know it’s an ass that I have talkative muses and you really want to respond to every point/get a word in, but putting words and actions into the past effectively godmods my muse into accepting they happened. If you feel your muse would have full-on interjected midway through their ramble, please ask me to edit my post/stop it at that point. Otherwise if you do prefer to splice, my muse will only respond to whatever it is your character did or said last in their post. This is one of the reasons I can’t write novella, because often there is only so much you can write before you’re stepping into the territory of changing what went before and not allowing your partner to do anything about it.

TL;DR don’t ever worry about your post being too short for me. If it’s one sentence long but it’s because something fast-paced is happening, I won’t be miffed.

Shipping! - no not that kind of ship, Jack. I love shipping. Ships all around. Let’s face it, romance can be one of the most exciting reasons we bother writing. I am open to a lot of ships for Jack, practically all of them. Yes, even that one. I will do downright nasty, toxic, horrible stuff, savvy? It’s fiction and Jack is a great indulgence for bad things happening to him as much as good. That said, of course don’t force something on him without prior agreement between us. Well, I mean, your muse can try and accost him and see what he does, just don’t expect him to definitely reciprocate. Jack and I are bi/pansexual. We’re open to everything. I will admit a heavy lean toward m/m but, that said, Jack is extremely fond of the ladies, more so than Loki. I am very into Sparrington especially.

Not Safe For Ye Olde Work

Sliding down from the above topic, I enjoy the occasional smutting. It is not a requirement from my partners. In fact, I’m warming very much to fading to black depending on the context/mood/if things feel a bit repetitive. I do feel a touch more comfortable with partners who don’t need that boundary but as I’ve recently figured ‘if it needs a cut, then it’s smut’ I know when to skip on.

Saucy material will go under cuts/Read More’s and be tagged as mentioned above with ‘filthy pirate’. Additional tags will be based on the citrus scale: ‘lime’ for general grabbing, ‘lemon’ for full on sexual content and ‘grapefruit’ if things get extra kinky. I will tag things such as ‘rape tw’ or ‘noncon tw’ or ‘dubcon tw’ where necessary. Please blacklist any or all of these at your leisure, or search them if you fancy :U I do NOT tag these as ‘ns.fw’ because tumblr just completely hides them from being searchable which is useless for my partners.

OC’s - Due to my time constraints I am extremely picky when it comes to OC’s. This is a good fandom for well-thought-out muses and I know firsthand how hard it is to make headway as an OC in the RP world. However, I also understand that for people like me, I want to dip in on this site to mostly play with the characters and worlds I’m really absorbed in and ship my weaselly black guts out. Some people have more time than others to really give your OCs the time and love they deserve. Unless I’ve played with you a long time and I really like the cut of your and your muse’s jib, it’s very unlikely I’ll bite. Apologies! The same goes for crossover muses from fandoms I’m unfamiliar with, but I will let you know if that’s the case.

Limits

Threads - I don’t have a strict limit on how many to have per person but please bear in mind that the more of these you have with me the longer it will take me to get to a particular one (unless I’m spamming it back and forth). This is more a mun/muse context how many I accept.

Exclusives/mains - I don’t do these although I may consider having a maximum of 3 or 4 of one muse depending on activity levels and to ensure plots don’t get mixed up or attention feel unfairly balanced.

Triggers/squicks - I don’t like body horror e.g. graphic detail of squishy bits having bad things happen to them. I’m writing a pirate so there’s absolutely allowed to be elements of torture/violence, just don’t stab him in the eye or chop bits off him. One torture-related thing sends me into a complete freakout which I’ll discuss with partners if we’re doing a thread of that ilk as needed. Kink-wise I’m not into mpreg, A/B/O or infantilism or toilet things. Just ask me/Jack if you’re after something XD

Who I Am/What I Need From You

Being yourself is the most important thing and I promise I am not a scary person (usually). We’re only human and it’s natural that we’ll get along better with some rather than others. This is more to give you a gist of the sort of person I am and who I gel with best.

So I’m a shy hermit at the best of times. I’m trying to be better at engaging and enthusing with partners over our threads because I realise more than ever this does keep things alive and make for a more enjoyable experience. I’m not always great at it. I work best with people who are patient and don’t worry too much on what I think of them and their writing, with people who are happy to keep threads going for the longhaul rather than keep dropping everything before I’ve had the time to get to the next post, and most especially people who accept that fiction =/= reality. I do need a certain level of quality, which doesn’t always mean perfect grammar, but it must be coherent, fun and creative. I like a relaxed approach, sharing mutual enjoyment in silly fantasy world sandboxes as escapism from (and exploration of) this complicated world we live in.

If you managed to read all of this, have a drink (even if it’s water). You’re a diamond. 

Pirate xxx

[illfoandillfie]

Rough Day

*This was requested by @bellacardoza16 who asked for kitten play + coming home from a bad day at work (actress) and Roger cheers you up*

Pairing: Roger x Fem!Reader 

Summery: Roger cheers you up after a rough day at work

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Kitten Play (including ears + collar), drinking (roger + reader), smoking (roger), dom!roger, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, orgasm control, and 1 (bad) pun based on a brand of cat food

Words: 4352

A/N: This was fun!! I haven’t written any hurt/comfort fics before but I enjoyed trying to capture that and also make it naturally flow into smut. Also haven’t written kitten play before but I think I have a new kink lmao - I did some research, watched a few videos on youtube and read some articles that explained kitten play, to try and get a better understanding of it, so I hope I’ve done it justice! And I hope this was the sort of thing you were looking for when you requested it!

Tagslist: @idontbelievethiss

Fuck, no keys. “FUCK!” You screamed as you desperately felt around yourself, checking all your pockets and your bag for the third time, trying to find a key that was clearly not there. Praying that Roger was home you started pounding on the door, trying to knock loud enough to be heard over the rain. “Rog! Rog are you in there?!” You yelled as you furiously knocked, your knuckles starting to sting. It took a full minute before the lock clicked and the handle turned, bringing you face to face with your, very apologetic, boyfriend. “Sorry love, I was making tea and didn’t hear you.” he said as he pulled you through the door. The fresh mug steaming by the sofa confirmed his story. “‘S alright. I’m the idiot who left my key in my other bag.” you said, taking a deep breath to try and steady your emotions. Roger took one look at your trembling lip and scooped you into a hug. You buried your face into his shoulder, releasing the sob that had been building all day. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Roger asked, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as he held you. It took you a moment to stop the flow of tears, but once they were under control you took a step back, wiping the mascara from under your eyes as you replied. “I’ve had the worst fucking day. Nothing went right. I couldn’t do anything right.” Roger’s fingers replaced yours, wiping fresh tears from your face. He pressed his lips to your temple and resumed rubbing your back as you leaned back into his shoulder. “Oh love, it’s alright now, I’ve got ya.” He let you cry into his shirt, whispering comforting things into your hair, until you were ready to stop. “Sorry,” you pulled away from him, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting too far. He placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your head up till he was looking in your watery eyes. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Fuck, you’ve listened to me bitch about the band so many times I’ve lost count.” “I got mascara and snot all over your shirt,” “Okay, that’s one apology I’ll accept,” he said with a smile, “Why don’t you go wash your face and I’ll make you a cuppa.” You nodded and he laid another kiss to your temple before he let go of your wrist.

When you reached the bathroom you took a moment to examine your reflection in the mirror - eyes red and puffy, makeup smudged and running down your cheeks, lip still trembling a little. You ran a sink of cold water, dipped the corner of a flannel into it and began rinsing your face, trying to keep your breathing calm and steady. Finally, you felt okay enough to leave the bathroom, taking a box of tissues with you just in case. Roger was waiting for you in the lounge room, wearing a fresh shirt, and holding his mug of tea. Yours was on the coffee table, a swirl of steam rising into the air.

“You wanna talk about it?” Roger asked tentatively as you settled on the sofa next to him, back leaning against the arm of the chair, legs crossed under you, cradling your mug. Roger shifted so he was facing you, and brought his hand to rest on your knee, his thumb rubbing over your skin. You tapped your nails anxiously along the mug as you blew on it before taking a sip. “It was just a really rough day is all Rog,” you finally said, playing for time by drinking more of your tea. Roger remained silent, waiting for you to continue. You let out a slow breath, your eyes focused on Roger’s thumb as you continued. “There must have been an accident or something this morning because the road was closed and I had to go round the long way which meant I was an hour late to set which meant Mike, the director, was pissed off at me all day cause I put us behind schedule. He kept picking apart everything I did, giving me passive aggressive notes on my acting, which I could’ve handled except then I overheard him badmouthing me to some people and it completely threw me. So much so that I kept forgetting lines and messing up for real. Tim tried to stick up for me. He was with me when I overheard Mike and he tried to call Mike out for being such a fucking arsehole. Mike, in front of everyone, told him not to bother defending a ‘talentless, brainless bimbo’ who was only hired because of the way ‘her tits bounce in a tight top’.”  

Your voice got quieter as you spoke but Roger’s grip on your knee got tighter. You choked out the last words, tears stinging your eyes again, and Roger stood up abruptly, fist clenched by his side as he began pacing.   “Rog,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes on a tissue.   “When I get my hands on him,” He was shaking with anger, his hand holding his mug so hard his knuckles were turning white. “Rog, please,” your voice cracked as another wave of tears hit you. He turned back to face you, looking ready to break something, but his demeanour softened when his eyes met yours. “Shit, love, ‘m sorry,” He said placing the mug on the table as he dropped to the carpet in front of you, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles, “what a fucking wanker. I hope Tim knocked his fucking teeth in.” “He would’ve if I hadn’t stopped him,” you said with a small, watery laugh. “Should’ve let him,” “I was tempted to, but Tim would’ve been fired and Mike isn’t worth that.” “Well I hope someone gives him a good hard kick up the arse.” “Wouldn’t be surprised. He’s been a wanker from day one.” Roger tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “I’m sorry he said those things about you.” “It’s okay,” “No, it’s not. They aren’t true. You’re an incredible actress. I’ve watched you work and you are brilliant. Maybe I’m a little biased, but the way people were raving about your performance in Twelfth Night last year I don’t think it’s just me who thinks you’re talented. And you’re smart as a whip too! Y’know I only like smart girls, and I love you more than anyone. It’s one thing for Mike,” he spit the name like it was poison, “to be a knob, but he’s also just flat out wrong. Knowing that you have to deal with this shit at your job makes me want to break things.” “Thank you,” you said, leaning into Roger’s touch, “I know he’s wrong and he was in a filthy mood all day and I shouldn’t let him get to me. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. A few weeks ago he made poor Annie cry when she messed up his coffee. Just wasn’t expecting it when I got up this morning y’know, having my biggest insecurities publicly attacked.” “God, I want to kill him for making you feel like this.” “Breath, Rog,” you said pressing your nose to his, “he’s a pathetic worm who gets off on making girls cry. Nothing to go to jail over.” Roger laughed, “There you go again, being smart. Proves you’re not a ‘brainless bimbo’, doesn’t it?” You nodded, giving Roger a small smile, “He was right about one thing though.” Roger looked at you, disbelief clouding his eyes as he waited for you to continue, “My tits do look good in a tight top”. Roger sighed with relief as you broke out into a laugh. He shook his head and pushed you playfully into the back of the couch. “Alright, you got me,” He said as he shifted off the floor, flopping down next to you, “good to know your sense of humour is still intact. You feel alright though?” You nodded. “I'm going to have to bake Tim a cake or something, to say thanks.” “Y/N, if you don’t then I will. I’m glad someone there has my girl’s back.” “Later though. When I don’t feel so drained.” “Why don’t you go have a warm bath and relax for a bit? I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” You shook your head, “Actually, I had something else in mind,” You looked down at Roger’s hand, reaching out to play with his fingers, not entirely sure why asking for this was making you so nervous, “Can I have my collar, please?” You bit your lip, waiting. “Your collar?” Roger repeated. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that. “Yes.” Your eyes stayed glued to where your hands were connected, even as you tried to explain yourself, “Today was hard, Rog. I spent all day trying to stay in control. With traffic, with the director. I had to control Tim so he wouldn’t beat Mike to a pulp even though I wanted to throw a punch myself. I had to fight back my own emotions so I could finish the work, because there have been people counting on me and looking up to me all day. I need someone else to take control for a little while. I just want to be looked after for a night.” You raised your eyes as you finished speaking, watching as Roger absorbed your confession.   "Of course, love. Anything to make you feel better. Why don’t you go and get changed and then bring your collar out to me, okay?” “Thank you,” you said softly, leaving an equally soft kiss on his lips before you stood and headed to your bedroom.

Once you were in your room you began undressing, tugging your dress over your head and removing your bra before slipping into your black silk nightgown. You fingered the decorative lace around the low-cut neckline, it made you feel regal. You sighed, already feeling more relaxed than you had all day. You moved over to the mirror and began reapplying your eyeliner in an exaggerated wing, making the line thick and bold. You followed it with a generous brush of mascara and a quick swipe of dark red to your lips. You brushed your hair out until it was soft and free of tangles, and then slipped on a delicate black alice band with two pointy ears. Finally, you opened the draw on your bedside table and removed your collar – a black velvet choker – running your thumbs over the material. Roger had given you this choker as gift, but you didn’t start using it as a collar until later. You liked its subtlety. You’d lost count of the number of times you’d worn it to parties and events you were attending solo. It made you feel safe and loved and less anxious when Roger couldn’t be there. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing out your nightgown, before leaving the room.

As your padded barefoot down the hall, you heard music growing louder with every step. Pausing for a moment in the doorway, you took in the scene – Roger standing with his back to you, flipping through a box of records, foot tapping ever so slightly as he kept time with the music. A glass was resting beside him, two fingers of whisky lining the bottom, and a scent of smoke tinged the air, a cigarette freshly stubbed out in an ashtray. You didn’t recognise the album he’d put on but it was soft and sweet, the kind of music you could easily slow dance to. “You should be crawling, kitten,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, a smile instantly forming on your face at the last word. Nothing else in the world made you feel the same way that hearing the word kitten roll off Roger’s tongue made you feel. “Sorry Roger,” you said as you quickly dropped to your hands and knees. You placed one side of the chain of the choker in your mouth and began crawling towards him, your nails gently clacking on the floorboards.  When you reached him, you settled on your knees, your bum resting on your heels and your hands in your lap. The choker dangled from your mouth, swinging slightly from the motion of your movement. Roger didn’t so much as look at you, his attention remaining on his records as he pulled one from the box, examined the back cover and then put it back. Your knees were starting to get a little sore from the hard floor but you remained, looking up at Roger from your position at his feet. His hand moved and your heart jumped but he only picked up the glass and took a sip before putting it back down. Finally, he looked down at you. “Alright kitten, you’ve been very patient,” He said as he bent down, holding his hand under your mouth. You let the choker drop onto his palm.   “Sit up nice and tall for me,” You pushed up onto your knees, keeping your back as straight as you could, as Roger walked behind you. He ran his fingers through your hair, gently pushing it over your shoulder before he looped the choker around your neck and fastened it at the back. His hand remained on your neck as he walked around to face you, thumb brushing over the soft velvet, sending a slight shiver down your spine, and a heat pooling in your stomach.   “Better?” “Much,” you nodded and released a breath it felt like you’d been holding all day. “Good,” He said, kissing the top of your head.  

Roger picked up his drink before seating himself on the couch, legs stretched out so his feet rested on the coffee table.   “Come here kitten,” he tapped the seat next to him and you eagerly crawled over to join him, climbing up onto the couch. He took another sip of his drink as you got comfortable next to him, the couch much softer on your knees than the floor had been. “Does kitten want a drink?” He asked tapping his finger against the glass. You nodded, eyeing the brown liquid. Roger held the glass out to you, tilting it so the whisky ran towards the brim. You stuck your tongue into the glass, lapping at the drink. You licked your lips, savouring the rich and faintly smoky flavour.   “Have a proper sip, love,” Roger laughed, offering you the glass once more. You gladly took him up on the offer, enjoying the burn of the alcohol in your throat. He took the glass back, downing the last of the drink before standing up to get a refill. You repositioned yourself, letting your body slip to the side, your legs folded up under you as you leaned into the back of the couch, watching Roger walk around the room. When he returned, he had a fresh drink in one hand, the ashtray and a pack of smokes in the other, and a magazine rolled up under his arm. He sat back down, feet flying straight back to the coffee table as he sat his items on the arm of the chair. “Does kitten wanna cuddle up here?” he asked, patting his thigh. You nodded and shuffled closer.

Lying, curled up on your side, with your head in Roger’s lap, you finally felt like you could put your day behind you. You watched Roger’s foot bounce along in time with the music, his fingers running through the hair around your scalp over and over, and purred at the sensation. Your breath was steady and deep as you relaxed into him. The occasional plume of smoke spreading slowly through the room indicated Roger had lit another cigarette and you could hear the pages of the magazine turning as you lay there, losing track of time. Every time you moved or swallowed you became aware of the choker, your collar, and felt a rush of gratitude and love in your chest.   “Rog?” You said softly from his lap. “What is it kitten? You okay?” “I love you,” “I love you too,” You relaxed into him again, settling back into your comfortable silence. Your mind remained on Roger as you stared out across the room, suddenly very aware of where your head was positioned. The heat you’d felt as he’d fastened your collar sparked to life and you bit your lip.

You shifted slightly, snuggling further into Roger’s lap, and felt him pause. After a moment his fingers resumed their movements on your head. You waited a little before doing it again. Once more Roger stilled. From your position on his lap you could feel him getting harder every time you moved. Your own desire was growing as you lay there, pressed into his lap. “What ya reading, Rog?”   He cleared his throat before he answered, "A magazine.” “What’s it about?” “Cars and stuff,” You rolled onto your back, knees in the air and feet flat on the couch, and looked up at him, “That what’s got you so excited?” “You noticed that, did you kitten?” “Kind of hard not to,”   “HA HA,” he said poking his tongue out at you, “just ignore it kitten, put your head here instead.” He tapped his stomach. You continued to look up at Roger, pouting slightly. “Y’know I’m not expecting anything like that. Tonight is all about making you feel happy and loved.” He smiled softly at you, playing with a strand of your hair. “I think sucking your dick would make me happy though,” you said playfully. “Well, can’t argue with that can I kitten?” Roger laughed as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours. He still held the strand of hair he’d been playing with, tugging on it slightly, as his other hand roamed up your leg. He pushed your knees apart as his hand moved steadily higher, slipping underneath the hem of your night gown and tickling your inner thigh. Small noises fell from your mouth to be swallowed by his as his fingers traced over your damp underwear. “My kitten’s feeling frisky, is she?” he asked as he toyed with the leg of your underpants. “Y’know that joke gets less funny every time you say it,” You jerked slightly as he pinched your bum, tutting at your response. “That was very cheeky, kitten.” “Sorry Roger,”  His fingers found their place over your underwear again, running up and down teasingly. “Who’s in control kitten?” “You are,” “Are you gonna be a good kitten and do what I say? Or are you gonna be cheeky?” He pinched your bum a second time. “A good kitten, I’ll be good,” you whimpered as he pushed your undies to the side and ran two fingers slowly up your slit, quickly becoming coated in your wetness.   “Good girl.” He removed his fingers from you, pushing them into your open mouth instead. He let you suck on them for a moment before he continued speaking, “Now I believe you said something about sucking me off. Best get started kitten.”

You rolled onto your hands and knees, as Roger moved to stub out his cigarette. You let your chest and arms drop to the couch, your bum pressing high into the air. You stayed like that for a moment, relishing the stretch in your back, until Roger’s voice interrupted you. “As cute as you look right now, I thought I gave you an instruction.” You raised yourself out of the stretch and positioned your head over his lap. His feet had dropped to the floor and his legs were spread slightly. Leaning down you began trailing kisses over the visible bulge in his pants, running your lips and tongue softly over his jeans. Roger laced his fingers into your hair and tugged, a clear message for you to get a move on. You took the hint, undoing his fly and tugging his jeans down until his hard cock sprang free. Looking up, you flashed him a quick smile before you took his tip into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his head, delighted by the soft groan he made in response. Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock you withdrew your mouth to summon as much spit as you could muster. You let it fall from your lips in a long string before lowering yourself back down, taking more of him this time. You bobbed up and down, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth over and over, as you stroked and squeezed his base. You hand and mouth worked in tandem, picking up speed as Roger grunted above you. You were completely focused on drawing more noises from him, loving being able to please him like this. He had one hand tangled in your hair, tugging it every time you dragged your tongue along his length or paused to lick around his sensitive tip, his other hand was roaming over you, running up and down the back of your legs, occasionally squeezing your bum. “Fuck, kitten, you’re so-o good at this,” He gasped out as you hollowed your cheeks, “Th-that pretty little mouth was made to suck cock.” You moaned around him as spanked you suddenly, only encouraging him to do it again. “Oh, kitten – fuck – kitten likes that,” he growled as he continued to spank you. You sunk down, taking him further, pushing back into his hand, “you gonna be good and swallow for me?” You bobbed up and down faster, pulling more groans and grunts from Roger as his grip on your hair and thigh got tighter. “So eager for my cum, aren’t you kitten,” you moaned again, pulling back to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. That was enough to send him over the edge, filling your mouth with his sticky cum. You swallowed and licked your lips before licking Roger’s cock clean. When you were sure you’d gotten every last drop you leaned back, resting your bum, now stinging slightly, on your heels again.  

Roger had his eyes closed, leaning his head on the back of the couch, as his breathing returned to normal. You leaned your head next to his, watching him come down. He slowly blinked his eyes open, immediately meeting yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out softly and you giggled, “no, really. Fuck. You are ridiculously good at that.” He reached out for you, pulling you over his lap, one knee on either side of his legs. You melted at his praise, leaning into his shoulder and beaming. His hand once more found its way to your thigh, slipping under your night gown again and drifting steadily higher. “Well what d’ya know,” he said as his fingers slipped into your underwear again, “kitten likes sucking dick and being spanked. Makes her all wet.” He teased your entrance, pushing one finger in and drawing it out again slowly making you whine into his shoulder. “What d’ya want kitten?” “I want you to make me cum, please,” You whined as he continued to slowly work his finger in and out of you. “I’ll make you cum, but you wait till I say you can. Is that clear, kitten?” “Y-yes,” you moaned as he pushed a second finger into you, his thumb making small circles on your clit, building your desire. It didn’t take long before you were a desperate mess, dripping as he continued to finger you slowly, making you whine and moan with every movement. He added a third finger before he began to speed up his thusts, his thumb still rubbing your clit. “Please,” you whined as his fingers pumped into you. “Not yet kitten.” You bit down on his shoulder as his other hand laid another slap on your bum, making you jolt so his fingers hit you at a slightly different angle.   “Please, Roger please,” your eyes were screwed shut, tears leaking from them. “You’re not in control here, kitten, so stop begging. You cum when I say so.” You wailed into his shoulder as he continued to torment you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, but you were determined to obey, doing everything you could to hold off your orgasm. Finally, you were rewarded.” “Alright, kitten, I’m gonna count down from five and when I get to zero you can cum okay?” You nodded, incapable of speaking for fear of falling apart. “Five.”   His thumb rubbed your clit faster and your legs began to tremble. “Four.”   You grabbed onto his shirt, balling it up in your fist. “Three.”   Fresh tears ran down your cheeks at the effort to hold off just a little longer. “Two.”   Your breath was coming in short gasps. “One.”   You clenched around his fingers, barely holding on. “Zero, cum for me kitten.”   You screamed into his shoulder as you were finally allowed to reached your peak, legs shaking as he continued pumping his fingers into you.   “Good girl, doing so well kitten,” Roger’s voice sounded far away as you rode out your orgasm for what felt like hours, twitching as you became over sensitive.

Roger wrapped his arms around you as you collapsed into him, whispering praise in between pressing kisses to your temple and forehead. You shook slightly as he held you, breathing hard. “Fuck,” you said as you blinked open your eyes. Roger chuckled against your hair. “No, really. Fuck.” Your hands shook slightly as you stopped clutching Roger’s shirt, pushing yourself up so you could slip off his lap. “Where do you think you’re going, kitten?” He grabbed your waist, holding you on his lap. One hand reached up to brush your damp hair behind your ear, “Pretty sure I’m still in control, so you’re going to stay here and cuddle for a while. Gotta make sure my girl feels happy and loved.” “I do, Rog,” you sighed contentedly, falling back against his chest and closing your eyes, “I really, truly do.”  

[whattoreadinsteadofdrinking]

Feelin’ cozy

I made it through the entire week, almost.  I have been really convicted lately that the way I talk is extremely negative most of the time.  Take my post from this morning, where all I did was write a bunch of complaints.  Yes there is a constructive purpose to getting things off your chest, but this is all the time now.  I attribute part of this to getting pneumonia and spending a lot of time alone; I also attribute a lot of this to the incredibly toxic work environment.  My boss speaks to me condescendingly or passive-aggressively MOST of the time.  My class assistant is consistently pissed at the kids and the way she talks to them is so, so bad lately.  I feel like I am absorbing their anger like a sponge.

Yesterday I read a post on here by a blog I really like where she just described going home and taking a really relaxing bath and it inspired me to do the same.  I wish I could live in the kind of mindset where I just focus on doing what will make me happy.  Instead I feel like I don’t deserve anything.  I mean, consciously, l don’t think that, but I do.  For example, on Monday I visited a school where I am doing ESL observations and I forgot my lunch.  At 1:45 my observation teacher said “Are you going to eat?”  I told her I forgot my lunch and was just planning on not eating and she said “Well, you don’t have to do that!  Take a break, go get some food!”  She was shocked.  But to me it made sense.  I was dumb and forgot my lunch, she’s doing me a favor letting me be there, and I figured I just...didn’t deserve to eat.  Yeah, that’s normal.  In retrospect I see how fucked up that is but in the moment it made perfect sense.

Tonight I am trying to treat myself well.  I had a good dinner, a kombucha, and now I’m in bed early, with a heating pad and good movies.  I feel cozy and excited to be almost done with school.  I can’t wait for noon tomorrow!

[rainsonata]

Still Here

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: K+ Word Count: 2,886

Summary: Why is Add still following the El Search Party? Ain is perplexed by the scientist’s presence and pulls him aside to question his intentions. Character study for Add and Ain.

AO3 Link  I  FF.NET Link

Classes: Rune Master, Anemos, Dominator, Catastrophe, Bluhen

A tall man adorned in a white suit leaned with his arms crossed tightly against his chest, Dynamo lined up to support the Dominator’s weight. They were a bizarre set of weapons, a sextuplet of cubes made up of smaller fragments that glowed in time and answered to their master’s wishes. They were not unlike the nasods under Eve’s command, moving with precision and fluidity only a nasod could. It took little imagination to understand how easy it was for humanity’s dismissal to be at its edges when they warred against them 300 years ago.

It was unsafe to be away from camp, but if there was any worry or concern from the scientist, it wasn’t expressed by Add when he found a lone figure waiting for him at the edge of the forest. Dressed in shades of green and white, the furry jacket the priest wore slipped down to reveal gray locks falling past slender shoulders. A lone pendulum balanced on the tip of the user’s gloved hands, carefully tugging on the thin chains before letting go and watching it gleam under the iridescent forest light.

“There you are,” Ain turned to face the scientist. “Mr. Half-Demon said you were good at picking plants and herbs. How about you help me gather them for our next destination?”

That’s why he was summoned here? Add saw the basket halfway filled with flowers used for teas and medicine, some of them he had never seen in Elrios. There were plants he recognized from childhood and in the present time, but like everything influenced by the El’s strong presence, even the soil had a slight blue tang.

Add snorted, “Why don’t you ask the elf?”

Rena was more knowledgeable on flora and fauna for medicinal needs than he was. Despite being in a new dimension unlike their own, it wasn’t a challenge for Anemos to tell which ones wouldn’t leave them with blue tongues if applied to humans. But anyway, when did he let Ciel go around spouting about their little deal for delicious cookies? He was going to have a serious talk with that Abysser-

The damn priest chuckled, “This isn’t a request. There is something I wanted to ask you earlier. Let’s talk when we’re still within the El’s influence.”

“What is it?” Add asked with curtness in his voice.

The man who called himself Ain - if that was what he claimed to be anyway, wore a bemused smile that was very much punchable if Add was one to resort to barbaric tactics. While it would have been satisfying to wipe the priest’s smirk with Dynamo, Add was curious to what could be on the priest’s mind to want to speak to him.

They weren’t enemies, but having personalities too similar had made it irking for conversations to last longer than necessary. As intolerable as Bluhen may be, Add couldn’t deny that having a healer on the team made their journey easier in recent times. Add’s face betrayed no anger on those fleeing thoughts, but Ain picked up the prickliness on how still and passive the scientist was and smiled.

“You’re not in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ain pressed his fingers on his lips with his eyes closed, “but I do have a few questions to ask.”

“What happened to minding your own business?” Add shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “When did the you start caring about other people?”

It was a false statement when Ain had become more involved with their odd team of misfits, but that wasn’t the point. While they have agreed to look the other way on each other’s strange circumstances and were teammates, that didn’t mean they were obligated to like each other. As far as Add was concern, Ain’s reaction to Henir’s powers in Elrianode further proved his suspicion that the priest wasn’t human.

“I care when you’re involved with Elsword.” Ain remained smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes, opening slightly and gazing at Add with the same scrutiny when they first met in Hamel. Didn’t the asshole ever get tired of smiling all the time?

“What about him?”

Add’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Rune Master. Even if half of the El Search Party had little concern for Ain, Elsword held him to high regards and the brat was unfortunately the leader. Not that the red haired knight was a bad person, but his judgement on people was questionable if he allowed the likes of people like Add and the demons without hesitation or further inquiry.

There was no need in being tense, but he couldn’t help but have the impression of being cornered by Ain in what felt like the beginning to an interrogation. The distance between them had dwindled to a mere meter or so, leaving little room for escape. Dynamo twitched, crowding together and lowering to form a shield around Add in reaction to the scientist’s discomfort.

“Don’t you ever find them to be a distraction while talking to others?” Ain gestured to the cubes with no fear. “You need to open up if you want people to understand you. Right, Mr. Ancient?”

Much to his frustration, Add found himself tongue tied in a blind rage to-, to that crude nickname. His ears were bright red and blood reached to his pale face with the scientist scrambling to maintain his composure. To have the nerve to tell him to open up and refused to call him by his name in the same breath! It was infuriating and made the scientist reconsider having Dynamo fry him to bits.

He was unsure to how Ain figured out he wasn’t from this time nor did he care, but he didn’t want to satisfy Ain in talking back and revealing more about himself, let alone to someone he despised. Add certainly wasn’t planning on opening to the damn brat!

Ain frowned at the lack of response, confusion etched on his delicate features. His round face gave him a feminine appearance, softening the previous judgmental eyes to replace them with a thoughtful look. Pursed lips in what looked like frustration from Add’s stubbornness, he closed his eyes for a moment before blinking and tried again. Leaning his head back and relaxing his shoulders, Ain gestured to the patch of grass beside him.

“Sit,” Ain ordered.

Hard-pressed, Add looked at the priest with wary, but it hardly affected Ain, who continued plucking the last row of flowers used for fevers. Add let out a low undignified growl of being ordered. He will play the priest’s game if it meant getting it over with as soon as possible. There was no telling when their group could figure out how to get to the Demon Realm without hints to how. He loosened his shoulders and lowered himself for Dynamo to balance his weight as they formed into a seat for Add to sit beside the priest.

Looking down at green leafy plant at his feet, Add sighed and gently plucked them off the soil with no thoughts in particular. Days of preparation for the Demon Realm would be meaningful if their team could figure out how to get there. When they find a way, would this be sufficient to feed their growing party if there was nothing edible in the Demon Realm? Add tossed the leaves into the basket when Ain spoke again.            

“Against my better judgement, something convinced Elsword it was a good idea to let you join in Hamel,” Ain continued once Add was seated. “Following us is nothing but a wild goose chase. Why are you still here?”

He remembered how they met. Two personalities too similar to tolerate the other, except Add was too stubborn to bother with formalities as he did and bore his opinions without thoughts of consequences. If Elsword trusted Add, then he should too, if only to respect his closest friend, but suspicions rose to a puzzling question that had pestered Ain for some time.

Why was Add still here?

The scientist didn’t belong here, there was something off about him. How could this go on without anyone noticing? The strange clothes he wore; the way he talked, using outdated phrases that lost usage in the last few centuries; his tendencies to absorb all information about Elrios like a child who had never stepped outside a library.

Add may have saved the El Search Party, but what were his ulterior objectives? Their ragtag team made it quite clear, sometimes too obvious if not childish to why they joined Elsword in a dire path to fight against the odd of the world threw at them. They were selfish reasons, so Add’s couldn’t be any different. Why make it a secret?   

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,” Ain lowered his voice, for once dropping the smile for a more serious expression. “Joining the El Search Party gives you direct relation to Elsword, meaning everything you do will have an impact on him. What are your intentions? Our next destination is the Demon Realm, a place I don’t think is in your interest.”  

In all his experience of living among humans, there were still many curious things Ain learned through his observation and interaction with them. For instant, they didn’t appreciate being examined or pointing out their flaws, questioning their logic on things. Some took his questions to offense and grew aggressive if he probed too far.

Add’s face stiffened, forcing his eyebrows together at the bridge of his nose. It was a curious thing watching the scientist’s flimsy attempt on keeping his calm composure, hands forming into tight fists and Dynamo quivering beside him, the first hint that Add was not as poised as he would like others to believe. It was puzzling how humans trusted nasods – Raven having a nasod arm and Add willing to connect his mind to foreign machines in exchange for their service. Eve herself was a product of humans’ meddling with machinery and is sentient. Did humans have no shame in relying on an external force as a means of defense?  

Add rested his head to the side with his arms folded, “I’m collecting samples for research, nothing more.”

“So for personal benefit,” Ain said.

“How is that a problem if I’m helping you fools with childishly simple tasks?” Add looked at his hands, white gloves removed for the scientist to dig into the plants’ roots. “What about coming up with the idea of using the Queen to break into Elysion?”

There was a thin layer of dirt beneath his fingernails with Add looking at them with irritation. Humans were peculiar on being ‘clean’, and yet had no qualms getting into fights and the like.

“It’s true your knowledge in nasods has helped us more than once,” Ain admitted with some reluctance. Had this been Elsword or even the Half-Nasod, giving credit to them wasn’t something he minded, but to someone with an ego the size of Add’s… “Is Elrios not enough for you to research?”

“Nowhere in our world can compete with the unknown before us,” he cackled. “The very make-up of the El and the worlds we’ve been to have a lot to look into. The best thing about research is that even a lifetime isn’t enough to know everything.”

“Very well,” Ain said with a tight smile. “The El has unlimited in potential, so why didn’t you let it absorb Elsword? It would have stabilized and be available for you to exploit in research.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Add scoffed. “Without the brat, it makes leaving this dimension harder.”

As selfish as Add’s reasons were, it was an admirable trait all humans had. Humans’ selfishness has held them back in times of war, yet it allowed them to accomplish the impossible. They wouldn’t be in Elrianode if Elsword didn’t force them to find another energy source for the El because of his impulsive stunt in Elysion. Their futures were uncertain, but it made Ain proud to be a part of it if it meant being with Elsword and the others.

And yet, something didn’t add up. With a brilliant mind as Add’s, it wasn’t hard to imagine the scientist finding a way back to Elrios without their help. They almost left Add behind when he was stubborn on leaving Elysion (“And miss out on researching third generation nasods?” The scientist cried when Raven threatened to physically drag him away from the artificial city.). With a few words from Rena, something clicked and convinced Add to follow them into Elrianode. 

If staying with them was all for research, the why did Add’s eyes turn glassy when he talked to Ain? He was deliberate on averting his eyes from Ain’s, concentrating on picking herbs and kept his teeth bared in a grin to reveal teeth as pristine as his white coat. It was typical for the scientist to speak when necessary and yet, he had a chatty explanation and spoke louder than usual. Was he trying to convince Ain or himself? Humans lied all the time, but Add was a terrible liar for the brief period Ain had exposure to humans.

Ain decided to test his teammate.    

“So you’re staying for your research?” Ain asked.

“Yes,” Add said with pride, all six pieces of Dynamo flashed pink as if agreeing with their master.  

“But you said research never ends,” the priest tilted his head with confusion. “So you want to stay with us forever?”

“Yes – wait, I mean no!” Add’s face turned red, “What are you doing trying to fool me? You losers are helpless without me! I’m doing you all a favor!”

An abrupt burst of laughter erupted out of Ain, unable to stop himself and laughed even more when the scientist gave him a look of bewilderment and confusion. His chest ached with the priest hugging his stomach, tears falling out from his eyes and almost dropped his basket.

It was something Ain had suspected for some time. The constant annoyance was all a front, Add often claiming he was using the El Search Party for ulterior motives but helping them in the same breath. Humans sometimes act different than what they said and Add was a prime example of that. It was bizarre, but it was clear how he saw their team if he was willing to help them every time. No one was forcing him to.

“I see even you have attachments,” Ain observed. No matter how many people joined their team, he was amazed how little time and common interest it took for people to see each other as friends.  

“So what if I do?” Add snapped back and averted his eyes, “No one would like being here alone.”

“Nothing wrong in that,” he said with kindness. “I’m happy to see you feel the same. I had my doubts, but I was wrong.”     

Ain checked his basket to see most of it was filled to the top. They washed their hands at a nearby stream and walked back to camp when Ain stopped. Before Add could ask what the priest was doing, Ain pulled out a ziplock bag to show an assortment of cookies baked and decorated by Abysser and Timonia. Today, they were in the shape of the flowers they observed in the region with sprinkles on top. Add gawked at the cookies when the Bluhen offered him one.   

“Mr. Half-Demon said you’ll do anything if I give you cookies.” Ain explained when Add appeared unsure on what to do, “Thank you for the herbs and the enlightening conversation.”

“I’m not a child,” Add scowled but accepted the cookie and nibbled the top part of it.

“Hm… just don’t run off when we’re in the Demon Realm or touch anything you’re not supposed to,” the priest smiled. “Otherwise, Elsword will have to come fetch you like he did with Ms. Demon and Ms. Fox.”

“Don’t dream of it,” Add rolled his eyes and bit into his cookie to discover a chunk of chocolate. “We've been talking about me this time, but hardly of you. What are you?”

To protect Elsword and his friends, that was all he wished for, to make sure they reached their full potential and find happiness. He would follow them to the end of the world, another dimension as they continue preparations for the Demon Realm. No longer to fulfill a mission for his creator, but for himself. Would it be enough to continue his existence? And for how long?

“A protector of sorts,” Ain smiled. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Hardly,” Add snorted. “But I will accept it today.”

When would Add understand he wasn’t mocking the scientist? Ain suddenly felt guilty for laughing at his teammate earlier. It was fun to see how quick Add reacted to the stuff he said, but that didn’t put him in a good light, did it? If only his teammate was easier to talk to like Elsword.

The priest shook his head and chastised himself on that wishful thought. No, not everyone could be like the Rune Master. If they were, Ishmael never would have sent him here with a mission to fulfill. Learning to talk to other people should be his next goal, but he appreciated Add’s honesty.    

Ain chuckled, “Fair enough.”

[elleberquist6]

Stray Cat - chapter five

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1702 Warnings: Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut Summary: Phil Lester believes that if he does good things then good things will happen to him, so on one of the worst days of his life he invites a rain-soaked Neko boy named Dan into his home. Phil has never met a Neko before and he knows nothing about the dark system that has molded Dan. Dan is part of a repressed population with few rights, and as Phil gets to know him he can’t understand why – Dan is the most amazing person he has ever met. —

“It’s a video game,” Phil responded after gaping at Dan for a moment. He couldn’t imagine his own life without videogames. “Have you ever played anything before? Any kind of videogame?”

Dan shook his head. “No, never. I’ve heard of them and I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never gotten the chance to try them before. I’m a quick learner, though. Would you mind showing me?”

“Of course we’ll show you,” Phil said, as Martyn was nodding his eagerness to help, too. Phil turned on his game console, grabbed three controllers, and he and Martyn explained the controls to Dan. They moved onto character selection, and Phil announced, “I’m going to be Tanooki Mario.”

“Yeah,” Martyn snorted as he picked Luigi. “Because you’re secretly a furry.”

“What’s a furry?” Dan asked.

Martyn’s body vibrated with suppressed laughter, making Phil’s face get hot.

“He’s joking,” Phil insisted, trying not to look at Dan’s ears. “I’m not really. Please don’t make me explain what that word means.”

“Okay,” Dan relented, returning his attention to the screen. He selected Yoshi. “I’m going to be this guy. So, are we playing as a team or against each other?”    

“Against each other,” Martyn answered. “We’re going to join an online race of up to 12 people.”

Dan looked slightly apprehensive, so Phil said, “Don’t worry, Martyn and I will go easy on you. We won’t use our items against you.”

Martyn looked like he was about to protest – he never even gave Phil special treatment when they played – but before he could say anything Dan’s eyes narrowed, and he said, “Don’t do that. I’m very competitive, so don’t go easy on me or I’ll make you regret it.”

“Oh really?” Phil said, enjoying this side of Dan. “I hope you do.”

To be fair to Dan as a new player, they started on the easier courses like Rainbow Road while Dan got used to the game. It turned out that Dan hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was a quick learner because it only took a few races for him to pull out of the back of the pack.

“I was just assaulted!” Dan proclaimed when he was hit with a bomb. “What is going on? This is discrimination.”

“Oh,” Phil giggled when he glanced at Dan’s portion of the screen. “You’re in the item cluster fluff.”

“Protect me, protect me,” Dan pleaded as he swerved to avoid more items.

“I can’t! You’re too far behind me. The only thing you can do is try to get to the front where Martyn and I are.”

Dan was hit with another bomb and he shouted, “Shit fucking wank fuck!”

Phil laughed so hard at Dan’s exclamations that he drove into a wall, and Martyn got 1st place. They played for the next couple hours and lost track of time until Martyn’s phone rung.

“Shit, shit, shit, I was meeting a friend for lunch. I’m so late!” They were in the middle of a race, but Martyn abandoned his controller and got up. He jogged slightly in place, glancing between Phil and Dan. “Sorry, I don’t just want to take off. Are you guys okay? I can cancel with my friend if you need me to stay or something.”

“Are we not okay?” Dan glanced at Phil with wide eyes.

“Martyn came over when I told him I was fired because he wanted to make sure I was alright,” Phil explained. He didn’t want Dan to think that Martyn was here because Phil had seen his bruises and called for help. Phil looked at Martyn. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Thanks for hanging out, Mar. Go enjoy your lunch.”

Phil walked Martyn to the door, hugged him goodbye, and locked the door. When he returned to the lounge, he asked Dan, “You still want to play, or do you want to turn it off?”

Dan shrugged. “I’ll keep playing if you want to, but my eyes are kind of tired. I really like it, though. Thanks for showing me how to play. It’s fun.”

Phil smiled. “No problem, my eyes are a bit tired, too. We’ll do more later.” He turned off the game console while Dan rubbed his eyes. Phil bit his lip, still wanting to talk to Dan about what he saw earlier, but unsure how to start. An awkward silence settled over the apartment, and it froze Phil in place where he stood beside the TV. As Dan stopped rubbing his eyes, he realized that Phil hadn’t rejoined him on the sofa and he looked up. The rosy patch appeared on his cheek and his ears twitched.

Phil realized that he was scaring Dan, so Phil returned to the sofa with what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face. “Dan, I…”

Dan stiffened and his ears pushed back. He looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m not trying to make you say anything since you’re not ready, but Dan, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” When this brought Dan’s eyes back to him, Phil went on, encouraged. “I shouldn’t have barged into the bathroom like that – I didn’t realize you had your clothes off. I’m so sorry if you feel like your privacy was invaded. I want you to feel safe here. So please, forgive me?”

Dan blinked at him. “I… yes. I forgive you. It really was an accident?”

“Yes, I just went back to offer you some clothes, like I said. Why, what did you think I was doing?” Phil grinned mischievously. “You thought I was some kind of pervert who wanted to get a look at you?”

“Something like that. Actually, a bit more than that. I thought you came into the bathroom because you wanted sex, but when you saw me with my clothes off you changed your mind because you could tell how I’d already been used.”

Phil felt his breath leave him as if he’d been punched in the chest. “No. No, no, no, that’s not what happened,” he said it softly, pleading with Dan to believe him.

He felt Dan’s eyes rake over him, absorbing the position of every muscle in his expression, the shimmer in his eyes, and his passive body posture. “You really didn’t…?”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Dan. I promise. Please trust me.”

“I don’t know how to trust,” he said in a defeated voice. “I’ve never met anyone good before, only people who wanted to hurt me. I know you’ve only helped me so far and I want to trust you, but I’m scared. I’m scared of everything all the time.”

“I understand, Dan. I do. I can see why you wouldn’t be able to trust me yet, since we only just met. But do you want to give me a chance? You’re going to stay, aren’t you? Have I scared you away?”

Dan shook his head quickly. “I’m staying. If you’ll let me.”

Phil relaxed slightly. “Good. You’re staying. So, just give me a chance, and I’ll prove that you can trust me.”

Dan nodded. Phil bit his lip. He wanted to ask Dan about what happened to him, but he didn’t want to upset him. Dan seemed to read something in his expression because he spoke before Phil could. “I still don’t want to talk about it – about what happened before you met me.”

Phil reached out and touched Dan’s bicep lightly, knowing there was a bruise underneath the fabric of his t-shirt. “All I want to know is that you’re okay.”

“Yes, I’m…” Dan stopped talking, licked his lips, and shook his head. “Actually, not really. I’m not saying I’m physically hurt, so don’t start talking about going to the hospital again.”

Phil waited patiently for the Neko to go on, as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts. His hand had left Dan’s bicep and slid down to his forearm, which he was now stroking in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

Dan relaxed slightly as he went on, “My body isn’t hurt too badly. I mean, I’ve had worse. I’m just really stiff and my ribs hurt if I try to take a deep breath. I think that most of what is wrong with me is in my head. I’m kind of a wreck right now. Sorry.”

Phil stopped stroking Dan’s arm to give his wrist a squeeze. “It’s okay.”

Dan gave him a slight smile. “I’m not usually like this. I like to think that I’m strong. I’m not used to feeling so unstable – my emotions are all over the place right now. Like, all I can think about is what I accused you of a moment ago. I hate myself for saying that now. You’ve been so nice to me and you didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry.”

“Dan, it’s fine.”

Dan shook his head as tears started rolling down his cheeks. Phil wasn’t sure if he pulled Dan into the hug, or if Dan leaned into him, but in the next moment Phil was holding the Neko tight against his chest while the boy sobbed. It should have felt odd, embracing someone he just met in this way. But it wasn’t odd – he felt like he had known Dan for his whole life. He already cared for the boy so much that it made Phil ache to see him like this. Phil murmured soft, inconsequential things into Dan’s hair as he rubbed his back.

After a while, Dan became limp and quiet in his arms, and Phil realized that he fell asleep. Phil put a pillow in his lap and he lowered the boy’s head onto the pillow. He used his thumb to dry Dan’s cheeks, and Dan made a soft noise, but he didn’t wake up. Phil couldn’t resist touching his ears next. He stroked the soft brown fur at the base of Dan’s ear, and he was shocked when Dan started to purr in his sleep.

He didn’t think there could be a sound lovelier than Dan’s laugh, but this purr was even better. Phil closed his eyes to better appreciate it. He was really starting to like this boy.

[semi-anonyme]

October 23, 2020

11:06am

Day 1. I've said this a lot, but no one reads this, it's all for me, day 1

I've already run 10 miles this week. Will probably be a bit more next week. I soak my brain in endorphins like chicken in a brine, readying myself for something special.

I'm going to let my mind flow a little bit. I think about where I am in my life, career, knowledge, and relationships. I enjoy my job, and I think I should be really fucking good at it, because being really fucking good at it both makes it more enjoyable + makes me more recession proof. And shit, if I spend 40+ hours a week doing something, it might as well be really cool.

I'm thinking about creativity. There's a reason that I'm going through The Artist's Way, writing my daily morning pages, doing exercises that reach into the past and explore when I started censoring myself. I am going to be an excellent writer, one day my fiction and most certainly I will let myself explore my lyricism. Explore for the sake of exploring.

I posted that Kevin Parker video yesterday as he talks about drums. I love his passion. He has opinions about why he loves what he loves and how he has implemented them in his own creativity.

I'm thinking about flipping processes on the head, you know. You know that trope in TV, a family on a road trip through the sun baked desert, the kid staring out the window who keeps asking his parents "Are We There Yet?". If every point in your own process you ask, "Am I There Yet?" you're always going to be disappointed -- your outlook is still stuck in the idea that there is a destination that's higher than the process.

But I've been thinking a little bit too about the term "trusting the process" and "having faith". I believe in these things, but also, if you're constantly telling yourself to "trust the process" and "have faith", it's important to take a step back and ask yourself if your mind is actually still stuck on a destination.

This is it, baby. Right now. It's fun and interesting and never started being more interesting when you knew more.

So yeah, I want to be really fucking good at the things I do but also just live a life where I'm balanced out. There are times when I think of balanced out and I'm thinking "equal parts working with my hair on fire and laying on a beach" but no, that's definitely not it. I'm not a person who really likes relaxing -- I meditate in doing things. The most passive I actually enjoy being is absorbing a medium, a book or a great movie. I imagine myself working in solitude followed by a long run followed by reading a long novel and then taking out a pen to handwrite letters to my loved ones.

That's all... coming out. I say day 1. I'm a little behind on The Artist's Way this week, I definitely have to do some more writing + my artist date. My camera, my camera, and my mic.

I was exploring django channels documentation yesterday -- https://github.com/django/channels_redis/blob/master/channels_redis/core.py#L296-L332

It's funny. Back when I learned to code in 2014, I was always excited to comb through open source projects -- one day, one day I'll be a good enough programmer to understand these things! But 6 years later I see the documentation and so much of that is still complete magic to me. You don't have to know the implementations to use things. Clearly I've become a better programmer and have had like 4 raises but it's all still magic.

You know, letting myself be creative means also letting myself explore my curiosity without the baggage of "I should know this by now, oh God 13 y/o programmer can run circles around me etc.,. etc.,."

Django, wsgi, asgi, the react internals, JavaScript and new specifications... these are also my art. I love it, and I'm going to keep exploring baby. I'm going to keep exploring.

Something I wrote in my morning pages, an approach to life: Get so fucking lost in what it is I'm doing that I forget to eat, it's not about having faith it's about exploring your curiosity. Relaxation? Who needs to relax? Just dive into another form of creation and stimulation.

Back to work

[kenzieam]

The Right Wrong Choice - Chapter 10 (Eric X Fox)

Rating: M (swearing, violence, smut - everything you’ve come to expect from me :* )

Genre: General/Humor/Drama/Eventual Angst

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!

@emmysrandomthoughts@beautifulramblingbrains @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @bookwarm85 @mom2reesie @elaacreditava @badassbaker @captstefanbrandt  @treeleaf @pathybo @beltz2016 @lilu46  @girlwith100names @gaia25 @readsalot73  @slayer0507 @stone-met @lostinthebeans @lauraaan182 @letmagichappen @girlslovestorys @tonyt1995 @lacy-love @littlesouthernrebel @fuckthatfeeling  @sparklemichele @vitaevandal @shaunarcanine @jojogoo65 @micolegg @frecklefaceb @jaihardy @equalstrashflavoredtrash @bookgirlthings @queenara4 @sterek-foreverandever

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**********UPCOMING TRIGGER WARNINGS************

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Death. That is Eric’s sentence. Two counts of murder for the dead guards; one count of attempted murder for Jeanine.

I has been two days since my world ended, and it is no easier to breathe than it was then. I can’t function, my heart is trapped with Eric. They haven’t let me see him yet, although I demand it ceaselessly. Jeanine is said to visit me today, in my padded room in the Erudite hospital, my first true visitor since everything collapsed. She’ll want a promise of loyalty from me, and I’ll say anything to be granted freedom, to see Eric again. They hurt him, as I was being dragged from the room I heard him yell in pain and everything went grey. When my vision cleared again, three guards clutch their broken limbs, two more hold me on the ground while an Erudite woman stabs me in the neck with a needle. I woke up here hours later, my throat parched, my limbs leaden and bruised. The doctor that observed me through the door told me the time and day, and I realized I’d lost nearly six hours since the council hearing. An official letter told me of Eric’s sentence, and the date of his chosen execution. Today, at 5 pm. I pace the cell, it is past noon, Jeanine is toying with me.

The door is unlocked and I stop, turn to face the intruder. Finally, Jeanine. Guards flank her with weapons drawn, but she is safe for now, I won’t kill her until after I see Eric. She is my ticket to him. She watches me and I keep my face impassive.

“Your boyfriend is going to die today.”  

Her words cut me deeply, and a fresh arterial spray of anguish splashes the room, visible only to me. I bite back my groan of agony, it’s what she wants.

“What do you want from me, Jeanine?” I rasp.

“Your cooperation.”

“With?”

“Everything. You are Erudite now, you will contribute to the faction. You will head studies, further research, you will become Erudite.”

I hesitate, then nod. Tell her what she wants to hear.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You are saying what you think I want to hear.”

“Let me see Eric, please?” My game is up, all I have now is honesty. “Let me see him one last time, be with him when he dies..... if you grant me this mercy, I will serve the faction.”

She watches me carefully and I wait passively. She holds the cards right now, I have nothing but her mercy to help me. A small smile touches her lips, she suspects. She has her game and I have mine, we shall see who walks away the winner.

“Alright. You will shower and clean up first. Wear Erudite blue and project the image of our faction.”

“Let me wear my Dauntless black. Let Eric see me one last time as a warrior.”

Jeanine nods, a small concession; she is either playing a deep game or is supremely arrogant. I hope for the latter.

“Guards will fetch you at 3 pm. Be ready. You will be taken to Dauntless and be with Eric as he is executed. You will then drop this delusion of yourself as anything other than an Erudite.”

I nod, the terms are acceptable, for now. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

I fight not to strain and pull at my guards grip. His pace is far too slow for my liking, anything short of a mad dash is too slow now. My heart burns, aches to see Eric again. Jeanine walks proud beside me, head high and I visualize snapping that neck.

One last indignity. I am shoved into an empty room and left to wait. I’m ready to crawl out of my skin. I pace and rage silently. More games, more bullshit. LET ME SEE ERIC!

Finally, the door is opened. Guards flank me as I am marched to another room. The door is opened and I am pushed inside. Eric is on his knees in the centre of the room, his hands bound behind his back. My heart breaks. I push past the guards and fall on my knees in front of Eric. He raises his head and the dead look in his eyes disappears. Pure joy shines instead and I throw my arms around him; mourn the fact that he cannot hold me back. Tears flow and I don’t stop them. I gasp his name over and over again, a prayer, a benediction.

He nuzzles his face into my neck, breathing hard and we just exist for a while. No one bothers us, or maybe they do, and we are cocooned into our own little bubble and don’t notice. I pull away enough to cup his face in my hands and our kiss is sweet.

“Fox, listen.” Eric’s voice is soft but firm and I press my cheek to his so he can whisper in my ear. “It wasn’t your parents.”

I jolt is surprise, but don’t pull away, there’s more.

“It was Max, all this time it was him. He came to see me yesterday; arrogant prick told me the whole thing. He wanted a legacy, wanted me to marry his daughter. You were in his way, so he set the Statute in motion, helped your parents invoke it, brought Jeanine over to his side. It was all him, Fox, all him. That fuck is the reason we’re here.”

My blood runs cold. Betrayed by our leader, betrayed by the man entrusted to lead the warrior faction. A killing hate runs through my limbs and Eric senses the rage.

“Baby, no. Listen to me.”

I pull away to gaze at him, stroke his hair from his forehead. He leans into my touch.

“Don’t.” His words are a whisper. “Don’t ruin your life.”

“W-what?”

“I accept my sentence, I killed two men. Don’t die with me.”

I can’t stop the tears and collapse against him. Although he can’t hold me, Eric continues to murmur in my ear and my parched soul absorbs every word.

“Fox, don’t cry, please. Baby, I love you. I’m glad we met, there is nothing I regret. Living with you, even for these short weeks was worth it. You are the best part of my life. You showed me love, you gave me perfect happiness. You made me alive, you made my life worth living.” He exhales raggedly before continuing. “I love you, so fucking much. I wish we had more time but we don’t. But it’s not the end, baby. We’re Blood-Tied, we’ll always be together. Live for me now, live for us.”

Hands grab me and pull me away and the last pieces of my broken heart explode, shatter outwards, slashing me to bleeding ribbons. I fight and claw desperately through my tears, trying to get back to Eric. I freeze when I feel the sting of a needle.

“Stop fighting.” Jeanine’s voice is cold. “This syringe holds Memory Serum. Continue to struggle and I will depress the entire contents into your neck. You will lose the last year of your life. You will forget about Dauntless, you will forget about Eric.”

I shake my head slightly. NO. I CAN’T FORGET. I will stand still, just please don’t take my memories too.

Guards hold Eric down, he tried to rise to help me. Our eyes meet and hold. It is time. Everything else disappears. The masked guard appears, gun drawn, pointed at the back of Eric’s head. I can’t look away, this is the best I can do for Eric now, to be the last thing he sees.

“I love you Eric.” I whisper, my voice breaking.

“I love you too baby, so much.” He whispers back. He is so brave, truly Dauntless. I will be brave with him. Our eyes never waver.

The gun fires.

I watch the light fade from Eric’s eyes. Watch his massive body slump to the floor.

I snap my head sideways, pull free of the needle and launch myself at Eric’s body. Dimly, I hear Max, the ultimate traitor say ‘leave her, give her a minute,’ but it hardly registers; my thoughts are only for Eric.

I cradle his head in my lap. Blood mats his baby-soft hair, streaks across his handsome face. His expression is peaceful, relaxed. I gently close his eyes. My tears glisten on his face. Everything else fades away and I can clearly hear the exact moment the tattered remains of my heart crumble to dust.

I lied. I will not be a good little scholar. I will not continue in a world that is black and meaningless. I lied to Eric, but it was a necessary lie. I will not live for him, because I cannot live without him. My tired mind races. I wish there was time, wish I had time to put a bullet between the eyes of both Max and Jeanine, but bigger things demand my attention.

I’ll never know if he lets me or not, but the guard beside me doesn’t move fast enough to stop me. I pull his gun from his holster.

Cold steel presses to my temple.

“I’m coming, Eric.”

I pull the trigger. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

I open my eyes. I am standing in a beautiful meadow. I look ahead of me, to the right. I see the walls, the city. Finally, I am outside, I escaped in death what I could not escape in life.

“Baby.” The word is soft, my heart sings back.

I turn.

Eric stands there. He is tall and strong. Whole and healthy. He opens his arms and I run to him. He crushes me to his chest. His powerful arms band me, his strength comforts me, his scent surrounds me. Our lips touch.

And finally, I am home.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

primes And multiples of 8

oh Thank You this sure turned out to be a bunch of questions lol, what else is better for keeping occupied on go stupid sunday

2: Favorite book?

lbh i don’t have one 

3: Favorite fictional character?

oh god lmao i mean again when it comes to Favorite ___ i have no *real* answers but atm i keep just sitting here staring at the quant don’t i

5: What’s your favorite fictional ship? (Canon or otherwise)

even with the “i don’t have Favorite anything” factor even this is always like. my ass doesn’t know how to Not like, think up a good half dozen or more potential relationships or whatever and decide they’re all fun……im rarely like “wow even narrowed down to this one particular Media i live and die by this otp within it”…….boring answer but really like even if this was applied Just to some particular work where i’m [staring at a Fave] or whatever i still dunno if there’s anything where i’m not #about [multiple possible Relationships]

7: List 3 negative traits you have

ooh fantastic. let’s lump “Too: passive / avoidant / nonconfrontational” into one, rest in pieces u_u. #2 im a lil temperamental lmao like, bit too much sometimes. #3 despite number one there i also don’t have a world of restraint lmfao which is just like. how i be but can certainly be a downside sometimes

8: How does someone become important to you?

idk i virtually always meet ppl via Mutual Interest……my social sphere is mainly “friendly acquaintances” or whatever where it’s like i may or may not have talked to most of them in the past >[0.5 years]………just a process really of “we Keep Interacting” and “we like each other” lmao like. it’s both very not difficult and also. difficult lol

11: How do you decide when it’s time to cut someone out of your life for good?

uhh not like there’s a strict analytical methodology here but i guess it’s like “hmm this person makes me p miserable / i do not even actually like having them in my life” lmao

13: What are your favorite lyrics currently?

ooh the “currently” Might make a Favorite question easier but i don’t even have Favorite Lyrics Currently lmao. it’s lucky if i’m even paying attention well enough to stuff to absorb the lyrics the first like dozen times i listen to a song and also i’m rarely like “oo Resonant” when it comes to lyrics anyway?? does it count if more than survive gets stuck in my head….even then it’s like. i always like the “of all the characters at school i am not the one who the story’s about” while Blatantly Being The Protagonist lmao b/c like…..idk i never like story structures where the protagonist is just like clearly kinda elevated like Obviously The Hero B/c They’re Better Than Everyone Around Them or something like more important / deserving than other people and i definitely find it harder to care about / connect with Protagonists / ~main characters~ who are treated like that. and obviously bmc is really not about that either lmao i appreciate that a lot

16: What is something you really want?

i think we can all agree our lives could be improved with money. also….in these times of covid…….. :| would want literal immunity for people……..april 2020……

17: If you could make a wish, what would you wish for if you knew it would come true?

i mean damn see above like. got the Wish Tiers like “personal things re: myself in particular” and ��for people i personally know / smaller stuff i care about” but like damn in this day and age especially it’d be like well, Humanity Not Being Destroyed is kinda a thing isn’t it. can’t have any slightly more fun wishes b/c these [systems] will be like [exists and affects everything horribly]

19: How do you handle heartbreak? Is it something that’s easy for you to get over, or something you struggle with?

is it easy for anyone to get over!! i don’t have to deal with romantic heartbreak though which i guess is what it means. galaxy braining that issue lmfao

23: What do you want your future to be like?

man ties in with 16 and 17 but also like we sure exist under capitalism always don’t we, and it’s tricky when like “it would be nice to have a small personal apartment to live in wouldn’t it” is this fever dream for all of us. but it Would be nice. having the time and money for Making Food whenever you feel like, right. it’s always like “if i was in a situation where i could just bake something due to Feeling like it i’d probably be doing okay” lmao. love to have access to healthcare someday. it’s all like depressingly low standards that are also depressingly ~unrealistic~ lol like i do not Ponder the future much. i also don’t have like, longtime aspirations/dreams or even Not longtime ones so i can’t be like “would love to have a career in/doing ___” but also yknow im good with I Don’t Need A Dream Job, would just like jobs to be non-horrible and to have time to like, do shit on my own outside of that, b/c that’s what i like to do lol…..but then also it would be fun to like, one way or another, get to spend a lot of time putting effort into some kind of in-some-way-Collaborative Project / Endeavor and get to be really engaged. the idea of getting to be around multiple people who it’s fun to be around and it doesn’t feel super temporary is Wild like, intimidating to listen to “the bar song” b/c i’ll just cry after 3 seconds. also i just like to be around people like, used to think that being anxious and all i wouldn’t want to live in a city but probably the opposite’s true….yeah i like to have a space where i can be alone / unobserved but i also like to at any time be able to be Amongst ppl even if not interacting with them (and also im usually more relaxed interacting w/ strangers than ppl i know)…….but really i have no details i’m just fingers crossed that at any given time i’m more than a couple steps away from like the post about [body wearing the funniest hat you’ve ever seen] lmfao and like. would rather not die in a pandemic either

24: Have you ever met someone you never thought you’d become close to?

in an “and i was right” way, sure lol, but otherwise i don’t think so

29: Do you think zodiac signs can influence someone’s personality to an extent?

it’s like Not Really But How Would I Know and yet i’m gonna kill everybody doing the shit just treating it like alternate myer-briggs types like delete your tweets 

31: What does ‘self care’ look like for you? 

#selfcare idk. me passing out or making the effort of getting food? great to step outside and pet a cat i guess but also that’s just fun. i don’t have a real methodology or approach here either. is me reblogging ask memes to ask for attention / distraction self care? is Napping to reset the mood self care? you be the judge

32: If you could go back in time and re-live your life up to this point, knowing everything that you know now, would you make different decisions?

eh not really……tfw everything that is the way it is now including “knowing what you know now” is a result of everything having happened exactly the way it already did……..

37: Have you ever been surprised by someone staying in your life?

i’m like Only surprised by it

40: What makes you feel confident?

thinking abt the tweet(?) which is like “when ur walking around in public pretend crazy in love is playing”……being around the lgbtqs obviously…..feeling able to Be Funny b/c like. that depends on the people i’m around too lol.

41: How do you show you care?

love languages……..uh i will do Favors. acts of service or whatever lol. i also like to give gifts. compliments??? idk it’s hard to judge this lmao i will cheer someone on, usually figuratively lol…….Liking A Tweet idk. an attempt was made

43: Which of the seven deadly sins do you feel represents you the most?

we need better sins. am i vainglorious for being opinionated / stubborn. "being not cishet” probably would be considered lust, and that’s a pretty important thing lmao. lust for life….the illicit sexual desire of being An Lgbtq…… i feel like i can be impatient, so i supposed that’s wrathfulness……hard to choose just one and yet again also. the list bites

47: What are you passionate about?

easily a lot of stuff that i find Engaging b/c i’m just sort of like that but i mean. easy answer is just: [interests]

48: Have you ever started to try learning about a subject only to realize it’s not something you enjoy?

not really……if i’m trying to learn something myself i probably had some level of “already knowing i like it to some degree” to even have the motivation in the first place

[isolationshepherd-blog]

CHAPTER ELEVEN - NEW BEGINNINGS

Duns House, Berwickshire

Harper had drawn a bath, which was a rare treat, and Abby was relaxing in it, steam rising from the water and her skin into the cold air of the room. The bath was close to the fire but there was still a chill in the air. November had arrived, and with it cold mornings, crisp days and long, dark nights. Since their conversation in the garden two days ago, Harper had fussed over Abby non-stop, plying her with herbal potions, massaging soothing oils into her skin, making sure the cook fed her as much fresh food as was available. It was all designed to lift Abby’s mood, and it was working, in its own way. She had resigned herself to her fate, realised that worrying herself sick over it would not change anything, and with that acceptance had come a strange contentment. What would be, would be. 

Harper poured more hot water into the bath, and Abby laid back, resting her head against the wooden side of the tub, and closed her eyes. She listened to the girl’s quiet breaths as she stirred the water, mixing the hot with the cool.

“Mistress?”

“Hmmm?”

“We have had word from Edinburgh.”

Abby opened her eyes, looked at Harper.

“Oh yes?”

“Aye. The Master is coming home the day after tomorrow.”

Abby sat up, her heart beating faster, her skin growing cold. “What exactly have you heard?”

“Just that. The cook got word to expect him, that is all.”

“Nothing more?”

“No. Try not to worry. If he knew anything, he would not delay.”

That thought was not as comforting to Abby as Harper probably intended it to be. Alasdair was coming home, and even if he didn’t know about Kane, Abby was still faced with the prospect of having to look at him, talk to him, breathe the same air as him, knowing what he had done. What if he wanted to lay with her? How could she refuse? She felt sick again, bile rising in her throat and she swallowed it down. She didn’t want Harper to see her like this again; the girl knew enough as it was.

“I should like to get out now, Harper.”

Harper held out her hand and Abby took it, stepping out of the tub onto the cold wooden floor. Harper picked up a blanket, and wrapped Abby in it.

“I will fetch your nightdress.”

Abby nodded, pulling the blanket more tightly around her as Harper returned with the simple white slip Abby liked to sleep in. She sat passively as the maid dried her and dressed her, too caught up in thoughts of what would happen in the next few days to be of help to the girl.

“Are you alright, Mistress? Do you need anything else?”

“Yes. Thank you, Harper. I’ll be fine.”

“Good night, Mistress.”

The maid shut the door behind her as she left and Abby went to sit at her dressing table. She undid her braid, let her hair fall loose. She was so absorbed in brushing it, she didn’t sense that she wasn’t alone in the room until a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped up out of her seat and spun around. Kane was standing in front of her as large as life. Abby was stunned. It felt as though time stood still; her heart stopped mid-beat, breath mid-rise, brain mid-thought. Only her sight remained working, taking in the shape of him, his beard scruffier than ever, his hair stuck out in every direction. His face was dirty and sweat-streaked and he had a faded bruise on his cheek. He seemed thinner than when she had last seen him, his kilt hanging low off his hips, his shirt tucked in, emphasising his slim frame. He was as handsome as ever, though, brown eyes still smiling, even though his brow was furrowed, his lips thin and pursed.

“Kane?”

“Aye, it is me.”

“I don’t understand. What are you doing here? Someone will see you.” She looked around, fearful, as though guards would suddenly appear out of the gloom as well.

“No one is near, Abby. Have no fear.”

“How did you get in here? No, don’t tell me. Your spies helped you.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Don’t be like that, Abby. I had to see thee. There was no other way.”

“I have no wish to see you.” Now that the longed-for moment was here, when he was standing before her, worry and fear etched on his face, she felt only anger, and disappointment. Whatever he wanted to say, it was too late. She was done with him.

Kane took a step closer and Abby moved backwards but bumped into her dresser. She could not get any further away from him.

“Ye did not give me a chance to explain, when last we met.”

“What is there to explain? You used me. You seduced me to get revenge on my husband, and I fell for it. I was so stupid.” Tears sprung to her eyes. She didn’t want Kane to see them, but they spilled down her cheeks, betraying her to him.

He put his hand out towards her. She didn’t think he would dare to touch her, but he did. His thumb brushed a tear away, then he slipped his hand round the back of her head and pulled her in towards him until her face was buried in his chest. Both his arms wrapped around her and there was nothing else she could do except cry into his shirt, silently, unwilling to let him hear the depth of her pain.

He kissed the top of her head. “Abby. Ye were never my revenge. I wanted ye from the moment I saw thee, when ye told me to mind my own business. Yer husband had nothing to do with it.”

She pulled away from him so that she could look up at him, look into his eyes. They were full of concern.

“You knew who he was, though. Knew what he had done.”

“Aye. But that was not the motive behind the raid. It was part of our plan. I was told to do it. I won’t deny I took some satisfaction from humiliating him.”

“And I was not part of the plan?”

“I didn’t know ye would be there. But ye were, and ye captivated me.”

Abby wanted to believe him so badly. He seemed so sincere, his eyes pleading for her understanding, her belief, her trust, but she had given that too easily before.

“You do not mean to betray me?”

Kane’s smile was painful, sad.

“Abby. Ye are all I’ve ever longed for.”

Abby couldn’t speak; his words ran through her body like a wildfire, setting her aflame.

Kane brushed strands of her hair away from her face, where they were sticking to the tracks of her tears.

“Please believe me, Abby.”

“Why didn’t you come? I wanted to believe you. Deep in my heart I felt it, but you didn’t come.”

“I wanted to, but I was sent away, to France.”

“France? Why?”

“As punishment. When ye left, I knew I couldn’t catch thee, couldn’t risk going to Arkholm, so I went back to camp. I was so angry, Abby. Not with thee, with Murphy. I beat him up and was sent to France because of it. Raven was with me. We returned today, and I rode straight here from Carlisle.”

Abby felt weak, her legs no longer capable of supporting her. She sank into her chair by the dressing table. She couldn’t look at Kane. Harper had been right, there had been a reason. She felt so many emotions at once it was overwhelming. Kane knelt on the floor in front of her, took her hands in his.

“Abby. I have asked ye to trust me before, and ye did. I know that trust is gone now, and I don’t blame thee. Of all the people involved in this mess, ye are the only one who is pure and true. Will ye at least hear me out, let me tell the whole story?”

Abby nodded, and he kissed her hand, before getting up to pull two chairs next to each other, in front of the fire. He led her to one, and then put a couple of logs on the fire before settling into the other. He stared at the flames for a while, and Abby waited, letting him come to the tale in his own way, his own time.

“I told ye before that my father did business with the Griffin family. At first it was with Jacob, but when Alasdair took over, my father didn’t like him, and left any dealings to James, my brother. I wasn’t involved with any of it, never met Jacob nor Alasdair. I was too busy enjoying myself as ye know.”

He glanced at her, and she nodded, to show she was listening, that she understood.

“James held a gathering at our house, about six years ago now, to celebrate a deal he had made with Alasdair, something he said was going to make our family wealthy. I didn’t pay attention to it at the time. I turned up to the gathering, of course, any excuse for a party, to meet women, and I ended up having a row with my father about my ways. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t have a wife by then, children.”

“Why didn’t you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, it is fine. Ye can ask anything ye want. I want ye to.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I did want those things, well a wife at least. I just never met the right woman. All the girls when I was young seemed frivolous, and then when I was older they were all married women who only wanted me for one thing. They didn’t want to talk, didn’t make me laugh. James had no choice, he had to marry as eldest son, but I had more freedom, and I used it.”

Abby thought back to what he had said earlier. “Ye are all I’ve ever longed for.” A shiver ran through her. Was she the right woman for him? Out of all the women he’d met? She found that hard to believe. He must have met more interesting people than her.

Kane was still talking and she dragged her attention back to him. “The night of the gathering, after the row with my father I went to look for Alice, my brother’s wife. She was the only one I liked in my family and she tolerated me.” Kane gave a small laugh, looked at Abby, and then back to the fire again. “I found her in her bedchamber. She was crying and when I went to her I saw there was blood on her skirts, on the covers. I didn’t know what it was, what had caused it.”

Abby let out a cry as she pictured the scene. Kane turned to her, took her hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Abby. ‘Tis painful, I know. I can stop if ye like.”

Abby shook her head. “No. You must go on. I want to know the truth. I have to know it.”

Kane continued, but he didn’t let go of her hands. He sat facing her, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

“She didn’t want to talk at first, but I managed to coax her into telling me. She said Lord Griffin had attacked her, forced himself on her, in a bad way, a painful way.” He squeezed Abby’s hands. Tears were sliding down both their faces. “I wanted to find him, kill him, but she begged me not to. I wasn’t going to listen, like I didn’t with thee when I saw yer scars, but she pleaded with me. She said Lord Griffin had threatened to kill her if she accused him, told her that James was involved in a deal to defraud the King and Alasdair knew all about it. He would ruin our family if she named him as her attacker. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t have time to consider my options because just then James and my father came in, and saw me sitting with her. I jumped up out of shock and they looked me up and down, horror on their faces and I saw I was covered in her blood. Alice was hysterical by now. James said, “what have you done?” and I looked at Alice and she looked at me, pleading with her eyes for me not to tell. I didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, and everyone took that as a sign of guilt. I didn’t want anyone else to be falsely accused, so I confessed to it. Nobody wanted what had happened to become common knowledge so they kept it quiet but clearly, I couldn’t stay in the family home and so my father banished me. That is the truth of it all.”

He took a deep breath when he finished, because he had spoken in a rush, all the words tumbling out like a waterfall.

Abby was stunned. She had known the bare bones of the tale from what Murphy had told her, but hearing it from Kane, his voice cracking with raw emotion as though he were living that night again, she finally knew the depth of the betrayal, and it was not Kane’s, it was Alasdair’s. Kane was truly innocent, as he had told her. He had made a great sacrifice, allowing his family to despise him, banish him, when it was all to save them, and they would never know it. He had told her that he had a good reason and she had trusted that, as he asked, until she let Murphy into her head, allowed him to poison her mind. Why had she done that? Why had she believed him over Kane when the only thing Kane had ever done was care for her, protect her.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell thee sooner, Abby.”

She reached across, put her hands on his head, brought him towards her so that their foreheads were touching. “How could you tell me that my husband was responsible for something as terrible as that? I am sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry for everything.” She kissed his head. He took her hands in his, brought them to his lips.

“I don’t blame thee. It is natural to think that I would want revenge. I do, but not through thee. Ye are the only good thing to come out of this.”

“I know, I know. I always knew. It was just that I convinced myself, and when you didn’t come, I thought I was proved right.”

“Oh, Abby. What fools we have been.”

“Yes. We have.”

He kissed her, softly at first, and then with more passion, his fingers tangling in her hair, lips sucking on hers, hands pressing her to him.

“I’ve missed thee so,” he said, when they broke apart.

“And I have missed you.” She took his hand. “Come and lie down, rest with me.”

“I would, Abby, but I am filthy.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. What will yer maid think in the morning?”

“Well, there is water in the bath, although it will be cold by now.”

“I don’t mind the cold.”

“Then let me help you.”

Kane slipped off his boots and stood still as Abby untucked his shirt from his kilt, holding his arms up as she pulled it over his head. She went to unfasten his kilt, fumbling with the straps and buckles. Just when she thought she had the kilt undone there was another strap on the inside. She laughed. “I thought my dress was complicated.”

“It has to be strong, Abby. We don’t want it falling down at gatherings with nice old ladies around.”

“That would never do.”

“No.”

“Imagine their shock.”

“Their husbands would be jealous.”

“Do you think so?”

“Aye, don’t thee?”

The kilt at last came undone and she unwrapped the material from around him. He was a magnificent man, tall and lean, broad chest, slim hips, a line of dark hairs on his toned belly leading her eye down to his cock, which was full already, long and heavy.

Abby sighed. “Perhaps.” She was tempted to reach out and touch it, as he clearly wanted her to do, but if she did that there would be no going back and he was truly filthy from head to toe.

“I don’t think they would be jealous of the way you smell, though. Get in the bath.”

Kane stepped into the tub and slid beneath the water. He sighed. “It is cool, but wonderful.” He ducked his head under, washing the dirt from his face, rubbing his hair in the water to wet it thoroughly. When he surfaced, Abby had a cloth and soap ready. She held them out to Kane. “No. I’d like thee to do it,” he said.

He lay back against the tub and closed his eyes as Abby lifted his arm out of the water, ran the soapy cloth over it. The scar from the sword wound he got in Newcastle was long, stretching diagonally across his forearm from elbow to wrist. It had healed smoothly, a jagged purple line the only reminder now. Her touch was light as she cleaned it.

“It doesn’t hurt ye know,” Kane murmured.

“It has healed well.”

“Aye, thanks to thee. The medic said ye did a wonderful job.”

Abby beamed, pleased that she had helped him.

“I wonder where we’d be, if you hadn’t turned up that day?”

“We would still have found each other.”

“Yes.”

She leaned in further, washed his other arm. His breath was warm on the side of her face, tickling her. His lips were so close she wondered if he would kiss her there, but his eyes remained shut and he didn’t move. She sat back and washed his chest, then ran the cloth lower, over his stomach, to his groin. He was still hard, the cold water doing nothing to dampen his desire. She stroked the length of him with the cloth, rubbing it lightly up and down his cock, and Kane let out a shuddering sigh.

“Oh. Mmmm.”

“You like that?”

“Aye. ’Tis a pity you cannae fit in here with me.”

Abby smiled, moving down to the bottom of the tub to wash his legs. Kane sat up, reached down to stay her hand.

“I think I’m clean enough now. Come here.”

She moved back to the head of the tub and he brought her head towards his for a kiss. His hand strayed to her breast, squeezing it through the thin material of her slip. Desire for him was coursing through Abby.

“I think you should get out now,” she said.

“Aye, I think I should.” He stepped out of the tub, water dripping from his body onto the wooden floor, pooling at his feet. Abby wrapped the blanket round him, rubbed most of the moisture from his skin. He led her to the bed, and they climbed on top. Kane tried to lay her on her back but Abby flipped them over so it was he who was on his back and she who was straddling his thighs. She pulled her nightdress over her head, enjoying the sight of Kane’s eyes roaming over her body, his cock twitching as she stretched up, before discarding the slip on the floor

“You still need to rest,” she said. “Let me do the work.”

He was thinner than last time she had seen him naked like this, and she could see his heart beating beneath his chest. She kissed it, feeling the thrum of it under her lips. His nipples were standing out hard, from the cold, or desire she didn’t know which, and she bent her head to suck each one in turn, pinching them as he did to her, increasing the pressure until he was moaning. She went lower, kissing her way down the trail of dark hairs to where his cock was lying hard and long against his belly. She had never touched this part of him with her lips before, wasn’t sure if that was something people did, but he had kissed her sex, and it had been wonderful. She pressed her lips to his cock and it sprang up. Kane jumped.

“Oh, Abby.”

“Is this alright?”

“Aye. Do it again.”

So she trailed her lips down his cock, planting small kisses, letting her tongue slip out to lick him, taste him.

Kane groaned. “Oh, that is good, so good.”

Remembering what he had done to her, she gave one long lick of him, from bottom to top, and he gripped the covers, moaning. There was wetness spilling out of a slit in the head of his cock and she tasted it, warm and salty. She held him firmly at the base with one hand, and sucked at the head, letting it slide in and out of her mouth, and was rewarded with the longest groan she had ever heard coming from Kane.

“Abby! My love, my love! Ye have to stop before it is too late. I want to be inside thee.”

She let his cock fall from her mouth so she could answer him.

“We have all night.”

“Then use yer hand to finish me, as I showed thee. Please, I am close.”

She made a fist and massaged his cock with it, up and down the length. He thrust into her hand, matching her rhythm, and as his breaths grew faster and shorter she increased her speed, until he let out a guttural moan that she feared would wake the whole house, and his essence spurted out over her hand, warm and sticky. Kane lay back with his hands above his head, panting. Abby picked up the cloth and wiped them both clean with it.

She lay on the bed next to him, her head on his chest. He reached down to stroke her hair.

“Was that good?” She asked.

“It was. I have never… Abby, no one has ever done that to me before. No one has ever taken me in their mouth.”

Abby was surprised. “No one? None of the women you have been with?”

She could hear the ruffle of his hair against the pillow as Kane shook his head. “No. They were not interested in my pleasure, only their own.”

“Perhaps it is not something people do?”

Kane laughed. “Oh, I suspect there is nothing we can do that people haven’t done. We are not the first to be like this with each other, even if it feels that way.”

“You are the first for me.”

“And thee for me.” He hugged her to him. “Can I ask thee something?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What was it like? What did I taste like?”

Abby thought for a moment, unsure how to put such a thing into words. It was more than just how he tasted, it was how he smelled, the heaviness of him filling her mouth, the smoothness of the head, the thick veins, rough against her tongue. She could not say those things aloud to him.

“Ye taste like the earth when the sea rushes in over the plains. Salt-sprayed.”

“We are the same, then.”

“Similar, yes,” replied Abby, remembering the way she had tasted on his lips.

“Maybe I should familiarise myself, so I don’t forget.”

He slipped out from beneath her arm and she rolled onto her back, letting her legs fall open so he could position himself between them. How quickly she got over her fears when she was with this man. Kane lifted her legs up so they rested on his shoulders, and used his thumbs to spread her lips apart before putting his mouth on her, tasting every part of her with his tongue. He slipped a finger in her, and then another, stroking her on the inside and licking her on the outside and Abby had to swallow a cry it was so good. She lay back, her arm across her mouth to stop her from groaning too loud, and thought of nothing but Marcus and what he was doing to her. When she came, it was a release, not just of pleasure, but of all the tension that had built up within her over the last sevenday. She wanted to weep with the relief, but she held it back. There had been enough tears that night.

Kane crawled back up the bed to lie next to her and she turned so that she was on her side, facing him. His smile was soft, eyes dark, one side of his mouth lifted slightly as though he wasn’t certain of something. She caressed his cheek.

“What is the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“There is something, Marcus. No more secrets, no more half-truths. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to spoil this moment.”

“Oh, now you are making me fearful.”

He took her hand, held it against his face. “I do not mean to.”

“Then just say it. Please, Marcus.”

He sighed. “Why were ye so quick to believe that I was false with thee? What did I do to make ye think I was capable of that? I don’t blame thee, I just don’t understand it.”

“Oh.” Abby had expected this question to arise at some point, because she was asking it of herself all the time, but it still came as a shock. She didn’t want to answer, because it meant admitting things to him she did not want to admit to herself, but she had just told him not to keep secrets.

“Ye do not have to answer.”

“No. I do. I don’t know for certain, but I have always wondered why you wanted me, out of all the women you could have. I thought perhaps you had seen more in me than there is, and one day you would find out that I was a fraud. When Murphy said I was your revenge it made sense, everything seemed to fall into place, at the time at least.”

“Oh, Abby. Do ye remember when we first met?”

“Of course.”

“I saw thee sitting in yer carriage, in that pretty blue dress, and ye were a feast for the eyes, I’ll admit that, but there was more. Ye said it was none of my business whether ye looked at yerself, and I knew I was supposed to threaten thee and steal from thee but all I wanted to do was laugh. Then in the rushes, I was already admiring of yer defiance, and ye went and dirtied my knees and said what ye said and I think I was yers from that moment. Ye were all I thought about after that.”

“I was intriguing to you, then, something new?”

“At first, perhaps, it was that, but then I got to know ye better. Ye have a great spirit, Abby, a quick mind, a trusting, loving nature. I’ve wanted a woman like thee all my life, someone who is my equal, and there ye were. And ye are not my equal, ye are better than me in every way. He is not deserving of thee, and sometimes I think neither am I.”

Abby looked away, moved by his words, and embarrassed.

“Ye cannot take a compliment, can ye?”

“They have not been given to me often.”

“No.” Kane shook his head. “That will change.”

Abby smiled, but there was something else she wanted to unburden herself of, and find an answer from him.

“There was another reason though, why I didn’t trust you. When I asked you if what we did in the stable was revenge, you didn’t answer, and that confirmed it for me. My heart broke, and I couldn’t hear anything else you said.”

Kane nodded, a slight flush appearing across his forehead. “I knew it was that. I cursed myself as soon as it happened, but it was too late to take it back, to tell the truth.”

“What is the truth?”

“That ye were right. There was revenge in my mind when we were in the stable. Being with thee while he was stood outside, oh, it was sweet, Abby, I can’t deny it. I thought ye felt it too, ye were hot so quick.”

Abby swallowed. There was truth to what he was saying about her as well. They had the same feelings, and she should admit that to him, but he was still explaining.

“But it was just the moment. I was taken over by the sight of him, and I was nearly ruined again because of it. Oh!”

Abby shut him up with a kiss, a long, lingering kiss that set her heart racing.

“I felt it too. I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Kane stroked her cheek. “It is in the past now. We focus on what comes next. Trust takes time.”

Abby shook her head. “I don’t need time. I do trust you.”

“Ye are all I’ve ever longed for. Never forget that.”

Abby nodded and Kane pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest, the rhythm of his breathing lulling her to a much-needed sleep.

---

When Abby woke it was still dark and she could hear someone else breathing, feel the weight of them in the bed next to her. It was disorientating at first, until an arm draped over her, and a familiar voice whispered to her.

“Are ye awake?”

It was Marcus, of course. Marcus in her bed, lying behind her, his breath tickling her ear, his arm heavy atop her. It was strange to wake up to another person in bed with her, especially him. Strange, but wonderful. She burrowed under the furs some more, pressed back against him to gain warmth from his body.

“Not quite. Are you?”

“Aye. Very much so.”

He shifted his weight, put his arm under the covers, across her belly, and pulled her further back into him. She could feel how awake he was.

“So I see.”

“Hmmm.”

He rolled his hips lazily against her, his cock sliding between her cheeks, rubbing against her sex. Abby pulled her legs up in front of her and he slotted his behind so that they fit neatly together. She could feel his hand between them, stroking his cock, before pushing it into her so slowly she was aware of every part he touched coming to life. They both sighed. He lay quietly at first, not moving, just holding her tight to him, then he began that lazy roll of his hips again and she followed him, pushing back as he thrust forward, matching his rhythm. It was like the slow dance at the end of a gathering, relaxed, languid, like they had all the time in the world.

Neither of them spoke. Abby’s senses were heightened, every sound they made seeming so loud in the quiet, the steady creak of the bed, the slap of their bodies coming together, their slow, heavy breaths, which frosted the cool air. Marcus brought his hand round in front of her, grasping her breast, squeezing it, thumbing her nipple. Abby let her hand drift to her sex, and she touched herself slowly, making lazy circles in her flesh. They continued like that, building the speed, the intensity, the pleasure, until she could tell Marcus was getting close to his release from the change in his breathing, his soft moans becoming groans in her ear. She pushed back harder, forcing him as deep within her as she could and he followed her lead, thrusting harder, faster. The heat was building in Abby’s sex, her nerves tingling, pleasure starting to pulse within her.

“Marcus,” was all she had to say, and he was coming inside her as her own pleasure took her over.

Afterwards they lay together without moving, Marcus growing soft within her but both of them reluctant to lose the contact.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he said.

“As do I, but Harper will be here soon. She cannot find you here.”

“I know.” Kane moved Abby’s hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck. “But it is so hard to leave.”

“There is tonight. No one is due back until the next day. You can stay with me again.”

“I will, but we must talk, Abby. Where do we go from here? What do we do about yer husband?”

“Yes, we must talk.” Abby’s heart was beating fast. She was unprepared for such a conversation; only the day before she had thought their relationship over, and before that she had deliberately not looked towards the future. She wasn’t sure there was anything to be done about her husband, so what future could she and Marcus have? There was no way out she could see.

Kane withdrew from her, slipped out of the bed and padded over to the fire where his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. He dressed quickly, then laid a fire in the grate and lit it. He came around to Abby’s side of the bed.

“Harper will wonder how I did that.” said Abby.

Kane laughed. “Aye, well maybe it’s time ye learned a few things, just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Ye leave him, and come be with me.”

“Marcus?” Abby was shocked at his response. Be with him? She had never considered that a possibility, although she knew they could not go on forever as they were.

“We’ll talk tonight. I will think of thee all day.” He bent down and kissed her, and then she watched as he slipped out of the door and out of sight.

[tipsycad147]

2 Visualisation Meditations for Relaxation

June 17, 2018 by Savannah

Managing our stress levels is a key to health. Meditation, intentions and affirmations can be super simple tools that we can fit in throughout our day to keep tension in our bodies low and vibes peaceful and high. Learning to release stress daily can help us to gain and maintain a natural flow in our lives.

There are many forms of meditation. Guided, visualisation and passive may be the easiest. Passive being things like showering, taking a walk or colouring. The two meditations below are visualisation and written guided. You can practice them as you read them, try them after you read them from memory or record yourself/someone reading it aloud to listen to.

Relaxing Light

Find a comfortable position either sitting or lying down. Close your eyes and begin to focus on your breathing. With each breath in, you fill your belly (not your chest), taking in all the life giving air you can and then releasing it again until there’s nothing left to release. Slow and even. In and out.

See the air as white light. Since light is a particle, we’re breathing it in with every intake. Imagine, as it enters your body, it flows all the way down to your toes. The white light swirls here, relaxing and healing them. Just as quickly as it came, it turns dark and you exhale all of the tension and negative energy that had collected there out into the universe to dissipate and leave you.

With your next breath, the light focuses on all of your feet. Relaxing, healing and dispelling any tension and negative energy that may have collected there in your breath.

Your next one finds your legs. First the lower half and then the upper half. Or first the right and then the left. Whatever feels more natural to you. There’s not a wrong or right way to swirl your breath of light within you. Do what feels most instinctive and calming. Make sure you’re finding all of the details of your beautiful body. Your ankles and your knees. The front and the back. Every crevice where tension and stress may be trying to hide.

When you’ve breathed in and relaxed all of the muscles in your legs and there is no longer any tension or stress within them, move up to your hips, your buttocks and your lower back. Swirling your white light in each location. Watching it turn dark and leave your body. With each breath you’re becoming more and more relaxed. If your mind wonders, that’s fine and natural. Acknowledge the thought and then release it, turning your attention back to the process of swirling, relaxing and releasing all parts of your body. Every muscle.

Smelling oils send the effects straight to the amygdala, our source of emotions. This is why aromatherapy is so helpful for such things.

Watch the light flow up and down your back, your front. Releasing your belly. Going down one arm and then the other. Relaxing the wrists, the hands, the fingers. Exhaling the dark energy that is no longer welcome within you. Only peace is allowed here now.

Pay special attention to your shoulders. Dropping them down, pulling them back to create great and confident posture. You are comfortable here. At peace here. We hold so much tension in our shoulders as we place the weight of our world on them. Release this weight and know that it is okay to sit it down sometimes. From now on, anytime you feel tension or stress, you’ll bring your attention to your shoulders. Releasing and relaxing them.

Move your swirling breath of light around your neck. Smoothing out all of the kinks, tightness and stress. Feel your entire head soften and release. Move it across your face, muscle by muscle until every cell in your body is at peace and in pure blissful serenity.

Stay here for a few moments basking in the natural high you have from releasing so many toxins you didn’t know you were holding onto. Sink into your seat as you surrender to the complete relaxation of it. Knowing that all the world can wait as you take this moment for yourself and your health. You deserve it so deeply.

Lightly scan your body, continuing to release any tension that may be trying to creep back in. Feel free to enjoy this moment as long as you need. As long as you like. Knowing that when you decide to carry on with your day, you’ll be relaxed, happy and flowing effortlessly with all that comes your way.

This meditation can take as much or as little time as you’d like for it to. Always make a point to focus on the shoulders.

Relaxing Bubble

Find a comfortable sitting position. Close your eyes and begin to focus on your breathing. With each breath in, you fill your belly (not your chest), taking in all the life giving air you can and then releasing it again until there’s nothing left to release. Slow and even. In and out.

Imagine you’re in a beautiful bubble. Clear yet rainbow-y in the light of the sun. You can see out all around you but no one can see you within. You can feel the energy of the bubble gently pulling on you from every cell in your body. It’s pulling all of the tension, stress and negative energy out of you and dispersing it into the universe to dissipate. You surrender to it. Allowing it to take all of that which no longer serves you.

As it cleanses your entire being, pulling the dark energy from even your mind and spirit, you feel as though you’re becoming lighter. You notice that the air seems fresher and easier to breathe. A smile comes across your face as you realise how much better you’re already feeling.

You’re now beginning to float as the bubble finishes ridding you of all the stress within. You’re safe here. The bubble is impenetrable. Protecting you. You feel so loved by it’s warmth.

As you continue on your day, you feel refreshed and at peace. You can choose to pop your bubble and absorb it’s radiant energy and beauty. Walking free and in flow. Or you can carry it with you, safe and secure. Whatever you decide to do with it at this moment is perfect for you. There is no right or wrong way. It is what you need it to be and is always at your side when you call it.

Intentions and affirmations are best used on a daily basis and work particularly well when put into play at the very beginning of your day. Placing them as part of your morning routine will help set the energy for the entire day.

Relaxation Affirmations

I am relaxed. Everything in my world is as it is meant to be. I breathe in calming energy. Calming energy flows through me. Everything that needs to be done is done. It is okay to let things be. I am surrounded by peace and serenity. All the tension in my body is released. I am more relaxed with each breath. I deserve a moment of peace and relaxation.

Get your own personalised affirmations here.

Relaxation Intentions

I intend that I relax every muscle in my body. I intend that I create a relaxing space around me at all times. I intend that I am able to relax in every situation. I intend that I am able to let go of that which keeps me tense. I intend that peace and relaxation flow around, through and from me at all times. I intend that the outside world not effect my inside peace and serenity. I intend that I allow myself to relax and flow effortlessly. I intend that time is made for relaxing daily. I intend that negative and stressful situations are repelled from my life. I intend that only calming, peaceful and positive things are present in my life.

Essential oils can help enhance our meditations and anchor the emotions we’re trying to create (Such as calm and relaxation) by diffusing or smelling them as we meditate and recite/create our intentions and affirmations. Wear the oil throughout the day to carry the anchored feeling of calm with you.

Essential oils for relaxation

Lavender

Ylang Ylang

Lemon

Neroli

Best Vibes Always,

S.S.Blake

http://earthandwater.co/visualization-meditations/

[juliettespencerus]

Clinical Hypnosis, Mind Body Science and Eating Interview with Dr. Steven Gurgevich

Marc David, Founder of the Institute for the Psychology of Eating interviews Dr. Steven Gurgevich, a psychologist specializing in mind-body medicine using Clinical Hypnosis. He has over 41 years of experience with his private practice at Behavioral Medicine Ltd. In Tucson, Arizona. In this interview, you’ll hear how powerful your mind is and how your body does not differentiate from real or imagined experiences. Learn to use modalities like hypnosis to retrain your mind to use it as a tool to empower your mind-body connection.

Transcript:

Marc: Welcome, everybody. I’m Marc David, Founder of the Institute for the Psychology of Eating, and here we are back in The Future of Healing Online Conference. I am here with just a wonderful gentleman, practitioner, thought leader, Dr. Steven Gurgevich. Welcome, my friend!

Steven: Welcome to you, Marc. I’m glad to be here with you.

Marc: Same here. Let me brag about you for a minute or two, and then we’re going to launch in.

Dr. Steven is a psychologist specializing in mind­body medicine. He’s the Clinical Assistant Professor of Medicine at the University of Arizona, College of Medicine and Director of the Mind­Body Clinic with Dr. Andrew Weil’s Arizona Center for Integrative Medicine.

Dr. Steven continues his 41 years of private practice at Behavioral Medicine Ltd. In Tucson, Arizona. He is a fellow, approved consultant, and faculty of the American Society of Clinical Hypnosis. Other memberships include Society for Clinical and Experimental Hypnosis, American Psychological Association, and lots more.

You’ve been doing this work. You’ve been in the trenches on a clinical level, on a teaching level for quite some time. I’m just wondering if you can start us out how you got on the journey of hypnosis, mind­body medicine, working with patients. What happened?

Steven: Well, it was quite by accident, actually. I was 14 years old working as a stock boy in a bank in downtown Gary, Indiana. After work one day, I went upstairs above one of the department stores and there was a radio station. I wanted to see what went on in a radio station, and they had a conversation—a dialogue and I watched through a glass pane. They had a medium, a psychic, but they had a hypnotist there, sort of a creepy looking fella. The question was posed to him, “Can you hypnotize anyone?” He turned around and saw me in the glass pane watching, and he said, “Yes, I can even hypnotize him,” and he pointed at me and it just scared the heck out of me, and I ran out of there.

On my way home, I went past the public library and it scared me enough that I went in and asked the librarian, “What is this hypnosis?” I was really blessed. She pulled out a

two­volume set called Medical Hypnosis, written in the 1940’s by Lewis Wolberg at the medical institute in New York. That taught me how to produce my own anesthesia   when I went to the dentist, how to overcome my needle phobia, how to improve test taking, and then it was 10 years later I was in graduate school and I started having disabling panic attacks. When the psychiatrist and psychologist that I was seeing said, “It’s only stress,” I thought, “Wow! How could you go through pharmacy and all these other undergraduate programs and never hear it mentioned,” but it led me to going   back to my training in hypnosis, self­hypnosis for me, and applying it to the anxiety and panic attacks and it worked great.

I immediately changed my curriculum in graduate school and put together a lovely blend of psychology, sociology, medicine, rehabilitation to create what, at that time, was called “behavioral medicine.” That’s when biofeedback was first coming out and evolving in the early 70’s, which we call it mind­body medicine now, but I’ve been obsessed with it, the mind­body connection since.

Over the years, I’ve done biofeedback and a variety of other methods, but I still find hypnosis to be really the fast track, the easiest, the fastest, the most expedient way to access the mind­body connection for healing and for therapeutic. That’s how I got into it and I’m still into it, and yeah, still very much into it. That’s pretty much all I do.

Marc: Yeah, so I want to underline something that you just said for one moment, and I’m   going to paraphrase a little bit. You said that through all the work that you’ve done in mind­body medicine, that you found that hypnosis is sort of the fastest inroad into that mind­body connection. I think in a perfect world if there was a different term or we can just kind of wash away whatever people associate when they hear the term “hypnosis,” we could all start from a great place, and yet here we are with this kind of—there’s a  little bit of a cultural coloring of the term. I’m wondering if you can set us straight and explain, really, in a basic way, what exactly is hypnosis? How does it work and how do we kind of separate it out from what I think a lot of people think of when they see the  Las Vegas show?

Steven: Certainly. You’re absolutely right. I mean going back to when the term was coined. The word hypnosis came from a fellow named de Cuvillers in Paris or in France. That was    a time when John Elliotson, the fellow who brought the stethoscope to England,   created the first hypnotic hospital, hypnosis hospital in London and the first medical journal on medical hypnosis. But very rapidly a late population latched on to it, turned it

into entertainment, much like stage hypnotists do now, and it just colored it or stained  it with the illusions that stage hypnotists frequently rely upon.

So that’s the biggest obstacle or the first obstacle I have to deal with everyone is how they’ve been colored—the word has been colored. The myths and misconceptions about hypnosis are that it’s done to somebody. Somebody gets hypnotized. I tell the patients I work with, “Hey, I’ve been doing this for 41, going on 42 years now. I’ve never hypnotized anyone anymore so than I could have meditated them or yoga’d them.” It’s not done to somebody. All hypnosis is really self­hypnosis.

I know when people ask Belleruth Naparstek and myself, “Well, what’s the difference between hypnosis and guided imagery?” I really admire her for using that word instead of hypnosis because she doesn’t have to swim against as much current as I do with    the word hypnosis. We’ll both say there’s no difference. They’re the same thing.

Any of the mind­body methods that rely on thoughts and images and pictures to send messages of our intentions through our subconscious or body­mind or mind­body, moreover. That’s it. There’s no going under. There’s no loss of consciousness, no loss  of control. In fact, it’s a heightened form of control and it’s not done to anyone. But it is   a relaxed or passive form of concentration almost identical to a daydream. But when we’re in a daydream, we might be staring with our eyes open. We’re seeing, but we’re not looking. We’re hearing, but we’re not necessarily listening and we can stare with all of our senses. That’s why it’s so valuable for pain, where we’re helping people with   pain problems because if they can stare with the tactile kinesthetic sense of feeling touch, you don’t feel parts of the body that may be having a procedure or undergoing a healing after a bad injury or burn.

The reality is that when somebody is doing hypnosis, even when they’re in a deep   state of hypnosis, they’re fully aware of where they are, what they’re doing, but they’re more absorbed within their own thoughts and ideas, which are carefully crafted to be images and ideas for healing, comfort, performance. As I tell them, “Your thoughts are things. You can’t see them, but you know you have them and those thoughts are sending—are resonating throughout this community of 10 trillion cells, living cells of   the body, so that they begin thinking the same intention, the same message.” That’s pretty much, in a nutshell, my quick version of, “Here’s what hypnosis really is.”

Marc: Yeah, and I love that nutshell. I’m wondering if there’s some useful, simple science   that can help us understand what the mechanism might be, just for the mind to chew  on here. How does science say this works? Or how might it hypothesize that hypnosis works?

Steven: Well, there are a lot of competing theories about that, and I would say 40 years ago we thought it was one thing. It turns out to be another, but we now have functional PET scans, functional MRIs that show that there’s activity going on in different locations within the brain that are very, very consistent with what the suggestion is. If you’re suggesting to somebody that they’re turning off their right foot so they don’t feel  anything or their right foot is asleep, you can touch their right foot and the part of the brain where the right foot would ordinary light up on touch doesn’t light up.

Or you can tell somebody you’re touching their right foot with a nail, and it’s a real   sharp nail, and even though you’re not touching them at all, the brain lights up as if   they were being touched. For me, what it did was validate something I’ve been saying  to people for years is that this mind of our body, we’ll call it a subconscious because   it’s beneath our thinking level of awareness, this mind of body or body­mind cannot tell the difference between what is real and what we imagine.

Think of the times when you’ve been frightened by something or worried about something, and it turned out the thing that you were afraid of wasn’t scary at all. It wasn’t what you thought it was, but your body reacted as if it was real because that mind of body isn’t the thinking mind, but it does resonate or vibrate to those thoughts and intentions that we have consciously in mind.

Marc: What you just said to me is so profound and that is that the brain isn’t distinguishing between the real and the unreal, but it’s operating as if it’s real.

Steven: Absolutely.

Marc: That’s phenomenal!

Steven: I worked part­time at one of the IBM plants here in Tucson, Arizona and typically they were stress­related disorders, and the physicians in the department would send the engineers to me to teach them some relaxation techniques with hypnosis for stress. The male engineers, in particular, the male engineers were the ones that really—and

having gone to Purdue University, I’m familiar with working with engineers and come from that background. The first thing I’d have to do with them as they’re telling me, “I don’t know why I’m talking to you. I’ve got bronchitis or I’ve got irritable bowel   syndrome or I have headaches.” I’d say, “Now let’s just go sit outside. It’s June in Tucson. Temperatures are 105. We’ll sit under a shade tree.” It’s a dry heat, so in the shade, it’s still 105, but it’s hot, but not unbearable. I’ll have them close their eyes, and with their eyes closed, I’ll have them imagine, “You’re back in Poughkeepsie or Rochester, New York. It’s winter. It’s the coldest day you’ve ever felt. You came to   work in a sports jacket. By the time you get off work, a blizzard is moving through New York State.”

As they’re imagining and I’m coaching them with their eyes closed, this cold, this bitter cold, when I see goose bumps on their arms, I ask them, “Open your eyes, look at   your arms, and tell me did those goose bumps come from 105­degree shade where we’re sitting or did it come from what you put in your mind?” Usually, that’s all it takes. Then they got it. That’s why biofeedback is so helpful for the non­believer because it shows them if you think of someone who makes you angry, you see changes in heart rate, muscle tension, other measures that we can sense or measure with equipment. Does that answer your question?

Marc: Absolutely. On a practical level, I go to someone who practices clinical/medical hypnosis. What might some of the techniques look like?

Steven: Well, first off, they would probably want to do an assessment and they would do that probably pretty quickly with you by talking with you to make sure that there’s not something that would say, “This is not somebody to do—this is somebody where you don’t want to do hypnosis.” People with serious or severe mental disorders, you want   to treat them very carefully and you don’t want to dive into doing hypnosis with them or refer them to somebody who deals with that. But if they basically just have some kind   of functional complaint, irritable bowel, for example, asthma, it might be first answering their questions, dispelling the myths and misconceptions we talked about just a few minutes ago, and then having them just basically learn to get a feel for what it’s like when they deliberately, intentionally produce a daydream.

They might be sitting in a chair in my office and I’ll have them close their eyes and maybe notice their breath for a while. Then I’ll suggest, “Perhaps you might discover that if you think about your arms becoming heavy and relaxed, they may become

heavy. As I’m talking about how heavy your arms are becoming as they relax, for you, they might be becoming weightless or floating.” You’ll discover what changes first as you begin directing your attention inward, for that is giving a power to the message   that your mind­body is listening to within your own thoughts and ideas.

I might suggest you’re on a beach and it’s a warm, sandy beach with a safe, gentle sunlight, but you might be picturing an alpine meadow up in the mountains because that’s more comforting to you, and you don’t like beaches and sand. They first discover that they’re totally in control of the experience. My role is only to be a guide, a guide   that basically knows how to be a good guide to help them have an experience that  gives them the experience of physical alterations, alterations in perception, that cause physiological changes in their body consistent with their goals. That would be—pretty much goes on—what happens within the first session within my office.

Then often, by the end of the session, I’ll make it more of a—once I know more  personal information, it’ll be more formalized in that I’ll teach them a very specific—maybe we’ll call it a hypnotic induction method or hypnotic induction  technique such as stare at a spot on the wall or follow your breathing or releasing  thumb and finger with a breath. They’re all­­as I tell the patients, they’re all just starting points. That’s another word for hypnotic induction methods. They’re starting points on   a gentle journey into the center of yourself.

Then I’ll record the entire 25­, 30­minute experience so they can take it home and rehearse and practice, because we know that it takes about 21 days or more to create  a habit. We do know—your earlier question you asked about what’s the mechanism going on. We do know there’s a neuroplasticity effect. People that repeat any activity develop a new learned pattern within brain, new circuit, so to speak and brain is being created that, in many cases, we want to use to replace a previous pattern of   discomfort or illness or some abhorrent symptom.

They’ll take that home and for 21 days they’re basically rehearsing. If we rehearse anything, pretty soon the mind­body just does it. You drive home from work and you don’t tell your feet what to do. They work the pedals for you. You ride a bicycle. You don’t have to tell your hands how to hold the handlebars or steer it or use a pencil or a keyboard. This mind­body knowledge or wisdom comes about from rehearsal.

We learn hypnosis through the experience of hypnosis. A book won’t do it. You have to have the experience because that’s what it’s learned from. You can give somebody an encyclopedia on bicycle riding. It won’t teach them to ride a bike. Same thing with an encyclopedia on sodium chloride, table salt. But if you put some of that salt on their tongue, they know it forever. The same thing with hypnosis. If you have that    experience of what it’s like to be so in control from within, it’s very empowering. It’s    very motivating to use it and apply it, particularly when you can see results so rapidly. That’s pretty much what goes on in an office or in a clinic where some practitioners  using hypnosis for—to introduce hypnosis for possible therapeutic modality.

Marc: Dr. Steven, as you were speaking, I was thinking how on one level, it sounds like what you’re doing, what we’re doing with these techniques is giving people another way to train them to use the process of mind. Nobody ever really necessarily sat me down   and said, “Okay, Marc. Here’s how you use your mind as a tool. Here are some of the tricks you can do.” I sort of de facto learned, “Here’s how you do math,” or maybe, “Here’s how you memorize things so you can take a test and do well,” but you’re basically teaching tools and techniques that allow people to start to harness the power of the mind in ways that they just probably never tried before.

Steven: That’s right. Every one of us has talents, skills, gifts within us that are undiscovered. If you ask somebody, “Do you play the clarinet?” Their first response might be, “No, I don’t.” But that person with a little bit of rehearsal and some guidance can learn to play the clarinet. The talent is within them. Do you know how to lower your blood pressure? Do you know how to increase the peristalsis or wave through the elementary canal,    the digestive tract? No. Well, I’ll show you. I’ll teach you so that you can slow it down    or speed it up, depending on what the issue is, diarrhea or constipation.

Every one of us has talents and abilities that are undiscovered, and it really is empowering. I guess that’s what got me so hooked on it. It’s not just individuals that have an illness that it’s beneficial for, but some of the performers, musicians, opera singers, baseball players, athletes. It’s delightful to work with them because their motivation is so high. They want to do better. They want to do well and they want to do  it even better than before, so they’re highly motivated. They’re not looking for   something out there to do it for them like a pill or a diet or something. They’ve learned  to rely on themselves, and that’s what’s happening with the hypnosis. It’s very empowering. We teach it to somebody and it’s like teaching them how to ride a bike.

Once you know how to ride a bike, the next question is, “Where do you want to go? Where would you like to be comfortable going?”

Marc: Okay, so on that note, where do we want to go? I know one of the sort of tools in your toolkit when it comes to hypnosis has been looking at people’s relationship with food and their body. Things like weight and things like the habits that we have around eating, and I know you’ve even written a very interesting book on the topic. I’m just wondering if you can just share some of your experience in the field of the usefulness of clinical hypnosis when it comes to things like working with weight, when it comes to pieces like working with my unwanted habits with food.

Steven: Mm­hmm. I’d be happy to. I think it’s very helpful for individuals that are struggling with some type of weight or eating behavior that they don’t like. So much of our eating we  just take for granted. People aren’t trained to eat. They learn to eat based on the family they come from and where they went to school, and sort of by default, what they had time to eat, when they had time to eat, and what they could afford to eat and without necessarily being mindful of making good, wise choices about nutrition. Certainly the medical students and residents I work with, I mean they have a voracious appetite for nutrition because they barely get an hour of it in the whole medical school training.

But getting back to your question. There are several ways that hypnosis is useful for people with weight problems, eating problems. One is to once you’ve taught them how to do hypnosis or they learn how to do it, whether it’s through one of our books or    audio recording, then you want to help them look at, “Okay, what am I eating? Why am   I eating? Where are some of the problems? Is it what I’m eating, why I’m eating?” Sometimes people are eating out of emotion.

I think one of the first early papers I did 35 years ago was about women using hypnotherapy for obesity. What we found was that one­third of the women had had some kind of uncomfortable sexual experience. Somebody had taken advantage of them and the weight they put on after that became a form of protection. It insulated them so that their attractiveness didn’t invite that to ever happen again.

Another third of them had experiences of loneliness. Somebody left. Mom went back  to work. I remember one nurse—when I first began, in the first session of hypnosis, I asked her the question or I asked her mind­body the question, “Perhaps a part of you knows what purpose eating those sweet foods does for you.” She just lit up and

opened her eyes and said, “Oh, my god! I just had a vivid experience of the first day  my mom went back to work as a nurse. I was 8 or 9 years old. I came home from school. I opened the door and Mom wasn’t there. There on the kitchen table was a  note that said, “Honey, there’s some vanilla pudding in the refrigerator for you. I’ll be home in about 30 minutes.” She said, “I can still remember how good it tasted.” Sometimes people are nourishing their emotions with food and not realizing that that’s what they’re doing or they may even know they’re doing it, but they don’t know how to stop or put it on a different—take a different track.

Another third of them had illnesses where they were encouraged to eat. The idea   being, and particularly of my generation when all the children were almost force fed.  You couldn’t have a skinny child and a healthy child. You wanted your kid to be plump so they could survive whatever might come along their way, tuberculosis or something.  If children were sick, food became associated with survival. “You’ve got to eat. You’ve got to eat. You’ll get better if you eat. You’ve got to eat for me.”

Oftentimes, a parent had nothing left to offer to comfort their child during an illness or a trauma other than something to eat that was pleasant. By giving them that pleasant food, the child then sees their parent’s face with a sigh of relief that they’ve now done   all they could do to make their children comfortable. They associate that with comfort   as well as doing the right thing.

Those thirds broke out that way: illness, emotions, and trauma. Some people, that’s   the nature of why they’re eating the wrong stuff. For others, it might just be poor learning habits. They grew up in America eating a high­fat, salty, high­sugary stuff and they fell prey to the advertising in America that is over sweetening with high fructose corn syrup and god knows what else, or even worse, aspartame, I guess, some of the artificial sweeteners that we know cause weight gain.

Working with people with weight problems means looking at why you’re eating. What’s behind—what hidden motivations are there for eating? Then looking at what are the obstacles to changing? And helping them change so that they can start moving into having a love affair with food, and that’s exactly what we did in that one book I wrote with my wife, The Self­Hypnosis Diet. We have a chapter on creating a love affair with food, the taste, the textures, the flavors, what you’re eating because you can have the most passionate love affair in the world with your food if you’re making wise choices. Vegetables, fruits, things that conform to a healthy pyramid of—regime of eating.

Then also being able to discover that, “I’m now nourishing myself with positive   thoughts and ideas. I threw my scale away. I don’t need that anymore. I’m now looking at exercising more.” In fact, we use the hypnosis to remove the barriers and blocks so they can fall in love with physical activity, even if it’s chair yoga. That’s fine. In fact, my wife became a yoga instructor and combined the two. She’s a nutritionist by training,  but now she combines yoga with the eating to help people get moving—or moving   their body or at least getting connected back to their body. The hypnosis is a lovely   way of making that mind­body connection as well and making the associations that let them discover.

There are these hormones ghrelin and leptin that can manage appetite satiation and you can do things emotionally, mentally in your mind that have an influence on the endocrine system and the neuroendocrine system. For me, it just keeps getting more and more exciting as we learn more and more about what are all the other mechanisms we’re tapping into. That’s, in brief, what I usually work with or what we work with with weight and mind­body.

Marc: So really, it’s less that the hypnosis is being used to try to fix someone, like taking a diet pill and more it’s this—it sounds like the vehicle for exploration, on the one hand.

Steven: Right. Yeah, empowering them to go ahead and look at what are the obstacles and remove them. Because those obstacles aren’t out there. The obstacles are all within.   As I tell people regarding hypnosis, everything you need to do this is already within   you. You don’t need anything from the outside. This is an inside­out job. I think with    our eating, if we don’t make wise choices, if we don’t move our body, if we don’t pay attention to healthy nutrition, it’s like trying to swim up a waterfall. We have to make that—I love what you call your institute. The Psychology of Eating is a perfect term.    We have to match the psychology of eating with the nutritional choices that people are making and creating the patterns of eating and nutrition that allow them to have I    guess what you’d call their perfect weight or the ideal weight that’s healthy, happy, and lets them live a good, healthy life.

Marc: Let me ask you this question, Dr. Steven. In your decades of doing this work, has there been anything that’s surprised you in the realm of pleasant surprise or wow surprise? What’s really caught your attention over the years?

Steven: It happens every week, Marc. I mean every week. Every week something is happening that just knocks me over, that, “Wow! That’s amazing!” Let me pull one out from    weight, go back to weight.

I saw a woman who she was 30. Let’s say 34 years old. She’s probably close to 300 pounds, and she’s had the weight for about 12 years. She has a couple children and she’s worried about her heart now. She’s, I guess, desperate enough to explore seeing  a psychologist. It’s this first second session. The first session I took a history and had her come back with some photographs of herself before she gained weight. She was a model, a professional model. She had just got scholarship to a modeling school in, I think, Wisconsin and she was the first student to arrive for the new semester.

She said she was greeted by the janitor because there was no one else there. She came so early and he opened the door, and he showed her to her room. In the course  of doing hypnosis 20 minutes later, when the question was sort of posed to her subconscious, “Is there a reason for this weight? Is it serving a good purpose?” She spontaneously started describing that this same kindly janitor came up and raped her. That trauma being raped led to her putting on weight from that day forward, until by the end of the second semester, she basically had to leave the modeling school because she was just becoming obese. Those kinds of things, to me, uncovering, exploring and uncovering something that can make all the difference in the world always wows me.

A woman I was working with, one of the most charming women I think I’ve ever worked with, bright and my mission—I was told by the people at our integrative medicine program, “You’ve got to convince her to have this surgery to remove an adrenal gland. There’s a cancerous tumor in it.” It was well documented with studies, imaging,   whatnot.

She was very adamant that, “I’m not going to have that surgery. It’s too drastic. I’m not going to go through that. I don’t think I need it. Intuitively, I don’t think that’s what I need.” She closed her eyes. We were going to do some hypnosis, and I asked her just casually saying, “What’s the name of the tumor? What’s the tumor’s name?” Like a knee­jerk reaction, she just said, “Henry.” I said, “Well, ask Henry what he’s there for.” She said, “To save my life.” I said, “How is Henry going to save your life?” “By getting me out here to this program to meet Dr. Weil and to change my life,” and she had moved from Belgium, where she was heading up a world banking organization. A very high, powerful position for a young 38­year­old or 37­year­old woman.

The next time she went for—I told her, “Tell Henry thank you. You got the message.” The next time she went for a scan, they’re all ready to do surgery. There’s no tumor. There’s nothing imaged anymore. Those always wow me. there are several cases where people will develop a physical structure in their body, and after doing some hypnosis, it’s gone, whether it be warts or internal warts. A little 5­year­old we worked with that had warts on her vocal chords. One session, probably no longer than 10 minutes total, and the next time she went to be examined, they just anesthetized her thinking, “Well, we’re going to scrape the warts off her vocal chords again. We do it every month.” There were no more warts on her vocal chords, and that was probably 17 years ago.

Marc: Wow!

Steven: Those are the kinds of things that wow me all the time. I never know what people are going to achieve and accomplish, but I always insist they’ve got to take all the credit for what they do with their hypnosis because it really all is self­hypnosis. All hypnosis is self­hypnosis.

Marc: The word miraculous kept coming to my mind. Often in the culture, we’ll use the term miraculous healing when we can’t describe exactly the mechanism of what happened. Some of these stories feel miraculous, but really, what I hear underneath is, “Well, not really because there’s a wisdom. There’s a science behind it. There’s a psychology behind it. There’s a mind­body science behind it that makes sense.”

Steven: Right and this is not new stuff. I mean this goes back to ancient China. It goes back to—you can find it in the hieroglyphics. You can find it in the sleep healing temples of Asclepius in ancient Greece. These sleep healing temples where people would recline on a little stone inclined bench called an, oddly enough, klini, k­l­i­n­I, klini. That’s   where we get our word clinic from, a place of healing. They would just go into a reverie in this darkened little room and Asclepius would come in and say something like, “You can eat anything you want now. Your stomach is healed,” or “I’m going to take your headaches with me, so let me have them and I’ll take them away now.” it’s just a suggestion because after Mesmer was run out of town in the early 1800’s in France, some British surgeons and doctors studied his data, which he fortunately did keep   good notes and records. They found that he wasn’t—the commission that looked at his work said that he wasn’t doing medicine. He wasn’t letting any blood. He wasn’t using

leeches. He wasn’t using pulse stasis. He was using what he called “organic” or “animal magnetism.” He was offering suggestions with words while he was passing magnets around somebody.

They found that even though his methods weren’t what they called “modern medicine”  at that time, his results were far greater than anyone else was getting. That led them to then look at how this mind­body healing was happening. The word hypnosis was misnamed. Hypnos from the god of sleep, but it’s not sleep at all. It’s a waking state phenomenon. This is not new stuff. It’s been around a long, long time and it’s a part of our nature. This is not something out there that we have to go get. It’s something we have to be motivated to learn because we’ve already got what we need within us to    use it.

Marc: Dr. Steven, I want to ask you a question about language because you mentioned early on, “Okay, when you work with a patient, you might go over a certain script with them,  or if you’re making certain suggestions,” I just started noticing you chose your words carefully, even just saying, “I’m making a suggestion.” Just the way you use language,  it sounds like it’s important in this experience called hypnosis or self­hypnosis. I’m just wondering if you can say a few words about that.

Steven: Yeah, actually, I could probably say a lot on that. I was so blessed that in the early 1970’s, middle 1970’s, I had an opportunity to visit and spend some time with one of my teachers, a fellow named Milton Erickson.

Marc: Woo! That’s great!

Steven: Milton Erickson was, because he had polio in high school and then later I believe in    his 50’s that affected his speech, he became a master of observation and using words carefully. We think of Ericksonian hypnosis and Ericksonian techniques because of the language. One thing we know is that like all of us above the age of 9 or 10 use two  basic forms of language to think with. Figurative language, where we use figures of speech and literal language, where we’re talking about something that is concrete. I   use the example in my office of a cup. If you have a cup, it occupies space. It has weight. It’s literally concretely a solid. It’s a thing. It’s matter and it’s a cup. We call it a cup.

But something like a try. I can’t show somebody a try and say, “Here’s a try. Here’s what it looks like. Here’s how big it is.” A try or the word try is a figure of speech, the same as the word n­o­t. Not. It’s a figure of speech. We know what we mean when we use them, but our mind­body—again, once we’re 9 or 10, our thinking mind uses them all the time. I’ll try to be on time. I’ll try to get my shoes tied. Figures of speech like  Mom coming through the kitchen saying, “Oh, man! This headache is killing me!” The teenager says, “Hey, take a couple ibuprofen, chill out.” Chillax as you hear them nowadays. The 5­year­old might say, “Don’t die, Mommy.” Because they take it  literally. The 5­year­old is not doing that figurative, abstract thinking yet, so the child takes it very literally.

The book was read. Does that mean the book was read or does it mean the book was the color red? The book was read. The careful choice of words is because the mind­body, that subconscious that is the mind of our body only processes with one language and that’s literal language. The word try or any word is going to be put into a literal form or the mind­body is going to literalize it as best it can. Try doesn’t mean do. Try means put on trial. See if it’s this or see if it’s that.

I remember one study that impressed me immensely back in the early 70’s was somebody had given a group of­­randomly assigned group of patients with urticarial/hives a prescription for a topical steroid and told, “Try this for two weeks.” Another group randomly assigned from the same pool, same prescription, but told, “Use this or do this for two weeks.” The group that tried it had half the success of the group that used it. The mind­body takes everything literally, so the words have to be very carefully chosen. That’s also the beauty of imagination and imagery or visualization, because if we can picture it and imagine it, there’s no semantic difficulty. It’s already in literal form.

It’s sort of like the idea of when you pray. Pray believing that you’ve already received the answer to the prayer. The prayer has already been answered for you. Move ahead into the future and put yourself in the environment of, “It’s already done. It’s already happened. You have what you want. What would it feel like? What would it be like?” That’s a very powerful message to the mind­body.

You’re right. The words are a very, very important part of it and it takes a while to train people to use them, and that’s pretty much why I record their sessions when I’m speaking, because I’m looking to very carefully craft very succinct, concise

suggestions that don’t leave room for any failure, that really are going to open the door to having something change.

Marc: Dr. Steven, it feels like what you’re describing, on one level, is that there’s a place where we’re in constant self­hypnosis because I’m in constantly dialogue with myself. I am talking. I’m using language even if I’m sitting somewhere being quiet. There are oftentimes there’s a little chitchat going on in there. What I’m kind of getting from this conversation is it’s probably useful to see and notice the conversation that I often have with myself or even with anybody when I start to talk about how I’m doing, my state of being, my relationship with food, whatever it is. It seems like I can hypnotize myself in   a direction that I might not want to go in.

Steven: Yeah, somebody else might say maybe that usual state that you’re in and the way you talk to yourself, some people are more optimistic. Some are more pessimistic. Some feel a sense of entitlement. Some people have a pattern of how they ordinarily think. Maybe that’s the program that’s running now and that’s maybe the trance they’re in.

With hypnosis, all we’re doing is changing those patterns. We’re just changing those patterns so that we don’t get the results that those patterns produce, and we get the results another pattern will produce.

I see it in all kinds of fields. One of my best friends was a professional musician, a guitarist named Howard Robertson. When he was crafting the curriculum for what, at that time, was called the Guitar Institute of Technology—now the Musician’s Institute in L.A., we put together some ideas on how to show somebody some things with music and the guitar, and then within 10 minutes, have them put their instrument down, close their eyes, and rehearse it mentally and then come back to it and just inventing techniques to put that subconscious to work as if it’s already been achieved. The rate   of learning is impressive.

I mean most people are familiar with the studies that were first done or published at    the University of Wisconsin of taking three groups of people to shoot free throws—basketball. Each person in the group shot 25 free throws and they recorded their average or their score. The first group was told, “During the week, the gym will be open. Come shoot 25 free throws every day and do your best to make them.” The second group was told, “Come back next Saturday. Don’t do anything during the   week.” The third group was told, “Go home and during the week, sit in a chair, close your eyes, and imagine you’re right here on this line looking at that basket, and you

shoot 25 free throws in imagination and every one is good. It could bounce in, swish through, whatever, but it’s good.”

When they came back the next Saturday, the group that physically practiced improved by 28%. The group that did nothing was unchanged, and the group that just mentally rehearsed improved by 27%, only 1% different. That mental rehearsal really is helping you create new patterns in mind. I believe it’s a neuroplastic effect of creating a new circuit in the brain and nervous system that replaces the old circuit, so that rather than get the results of what the previous program running was, we’ve now got this new one.   I guess it is, like you said, it’s like hypnotizing yourself to have a new program running reprogramming your brain that way.

Marc: To me, this is such an empowering conversation because it keeps pointing to how  what goes on in our inner world is so potent and more potent than we could have ever known, perhaps, and potent in a positive way if we use it in that way. I think we need that as a world in a big way.

Steven: Absolutely. For me, it’s a great joy to be training physicians and psychologists and  social workers, other therapists in techniques of clinical hypnosis so that they’ll be   doing it and using it, because sometimes—even though I say all hypnosis is self­hypnosis, sometimes it’s somebody else saying something that makes all the difference in the world. One of the docs in our integrative medicine fellowship training program had gone through three levels of training with the American Society of Clinical Hypnosis, but she was always afraid to use it because she was afraid she’d say the wrong thing.

The week before she came out here for what we call a residential week of training, she said she had a man literally dying on the operating table. He was bleeding in his belly. They couldn’t find the ruptured vessel, and as fast as they pumped blood into him, it  was coming out. She said he was literally dying, and she said, “I didn’t know what to    do and I was desperate so I just said to him—” and these are the words something like what she said. She said, “Mr. Taylor.” He’s under anesthesia, out of it. She said, “Mr. Taylor, I’ve got a problem and I need your help. There’s a vessel in your belly that’s bleeding and I need to find it, so turn off the bleeding.”

She said the bleeding stopped and this is something that routinely we do use hypnosis for to alter blood flow. The bleeding stopped. They suctioned him out, found the

vessel, she sewed it back together, pumped him full of blood, and she said later that night when she visited him in his room he asked her—he said, “Was there some problem during my surgery?” She said, “There was, but you helped me fix it.”

Marc: Wow!

Steven: Sometimes it’s things that others might say to us or offer to us at the right time, with the right words, and our body responds even if we are in a coma or if we’re under anesthesia—patients. The mind­body is still responding oftentimes to what’s being said.

Marc: Beautiful story. Let’s call that the cherry on the cake of a great conversation and very enlightening for me and I’m sure for a lot of people tuning in. Dr. Steven, I would love if you could share with us how people can learn more, stay in touch with you and your world, understand what you’re up to, what should we know?

Steven: First of all, I’d like to say if you’re looking for somebody who’s qualified in hypnosis to work with, the American Society of Clinical Hypnosis has a website, a­s­c��h, their acronym, American Society of Clinical Hypnosis, asch.net and they have a “find a practitioner.” Most of the members of the other legitimate professional associations are all members of that one as well, including internationally. I would say that’s where you want to find your therapist if you need one.

For me, I have a website called healingwithhypnosis.com. on my website, I have some free downloads for experiencing hypnosis to remember dreams, to remove holiday stress, a few others, as well as a variety of topics and some of the books that I’ve written. Healingwithhypnosis.com.

Marc: Great! Dr. Steven, thank you so much. This has been so enlivening and enlightening and I’m glad you and I finally got to meet. I’ve kind of had my eye on you and your    work for a while, and I’m just thrilled and really thrilled that you’re out there teaching   this and imparting this wisdom to practitioners so it can really get out there. Thank you.

Steven: Thank you, Marc. I’ve always admired the Psychology of Eating, what you’ve put together, and it’s a real delight to finally team up with you and participate together.

Marc: Yay!

Steven: Thank you.

Marc: Thanks so much! Thanks everybody for tuning in. Once again, I’m Marc David, on behalf of The Future of Healing Online Conference. Lots more to come, as always, my friends. Take care.

from Healthy Living https://psychologyofeating.com/clinical-hypnosis-mind-body-science-and-eating-interview-with-dr-steven-gurgevich/

[3one3]

The Sequel - 887

An Hour And Two Halves

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Show you what I can do, and you know it’s true, when I dance with you,” Christina sang along quietly with the song on the radio while she chopped carrots for her stew. It was a Joe Jonas song she didn’t even particularly like, but it was upbeat and bouncy and she was in a great mood. The vibe got bigger and louder as the chorus approached, and she was so ready for it. The rider dropped her knife on the plastic cutting board and dramatically flung her hand out at her sous chef, who was cutting green beans. “”Oh-oh-oh-oh, give me your haaaaand,” she sang loud and proud and with a silly face. “Oh-oh-oh-oh, I’ll be who I aaaaam. Oh-oh-oh-oh I ain’t no...Michael Jackson, but give me one chance, one chance to daaaance. Give me, one chance, one chance, to daaaance.” Juan didn’t offer his hand, so she just hopped around him in her energetic, extremely-non-Michael-Jackson-esque way. Her stew-making process was riddled with work interruptions for dancing and animated singing. Despite the midfielder’s disinterest in letting her drag him around his kitchen dancing to Top 40, he found her behavior amusing, and hilarious even at times. Her dramatic and extremely relevant interpretation of Justin Bieber’s “Friends” had him doubled over laughing. When it was over, they agreed that they were evidence for broken up couples everywhere that they can’t still be friends. Christina stopped singing and dancing to make out with him after the third “But we had something so good” line, so it really was pretty self-evident.

“What’s next, cariña?” Juan asked when her dancing took her back to her knife work and he was finished with his.

“Nada. Everything is finished. We put the potatoes in in an hour, and then the rest of the veggies half an hour after that, and then half an hour after that, we eat.” The beef was already simmering away in a big pot of stock, wine, herbs, and onions. He laughed at the chef when her eyes had the typically bad reaction to chopping all the onions too. Their whole cooking project was mostly Juan laughing at Christina, and Christina loving it.

“What do you want to do for an hour and two halves?”

“I’m not really sure, but I know I want to go for a walk after dinner. I miss the smell of London on a fall night sooooooo bad.” She turned her bottom lip over in an exaggerated pout and used her big knife to slide the carrots into the bowl with the beans. “Do you have any ideas?” The Spaniard took both the knife and the small cutting board to rinse in the sink with the ones he used.

“One.”

“Your penis is never going to be in my colon.”

“I want to read a poem to you, from the book.”

“Oh jesus,” the Olympic medalist groaned at the Olympic failure whose token of failure she kept in her book as a reminder of his belief in her ability to avoid failure. There was an unrealized connection between all of those things. The two athletes borrowed a variety of types of strength from each other, and they cultivated that borrowable strength in their own ways- alike, but different. The rider collected takeaways from her history books, and fed her imagination with her mysteries. The footballer collected food for thought from more abstract texts, like the collection of poems she gave him. Books and mutual intellectual stimulus would always bind them.

“It’s very good and you’ll really...relate to it.”

“Is it going to take an hour and two halves?” Christina asked, reluctantly consenting with her body language if not her actual language.

“No.”

“Fiiiiine. I want to hear the end of this Mikky Ekko song though.” She turned around and backed herself up to the small island counter, preparing to hoist herself up on it. Sometimes she was too lazy or tired to do it all on her own, and opened up a big bottom cabinet to step into for a boost. Then she could use her foot to close it again once seated. Juan always complimented her creativity in the matter. She intended to do it on her own on Sunday, and clamped her hands on the counter. He noticed as he was drying his hands, and dropped the towel to lend some help. His hands grasped her waist and lifted her the extra couple of inches she needed on top of her little hop, and he kept them there even after her butt landed safely. He held onto her to keep her from sliding back, so that she had to spread her legs to make space for him in between, and so that she was right up close to his body.

“I lied before.”

“Bout what?”

“I have two ideas for the hour and two halves.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope the second idea involves dragons,” the girl in leggings deadpanned to the boy between her legs. She also casually hung her wrists over his shoulders and passively kicked the backs of his thighs with her heels.

“I can’t wait for your birthday. I’m going to give you the biggest dragon-themed party anyone has ever seen,” the Spanish player laughed, with the same delight in the glint in his eye that had been there all through her dance-cooking. “Every little boy will be jealous.”

“Can it be a costume party? Will you be dressed as a knight? Or is this a Thrones-type dragon party? You would totally be a Stark.”

“We’ll have to see. I have some time to plan.”

“What’s your other idea for an hour and two halves?”

“I want to photograph you- exactly like this,” Juan hastened to add the second Christina’s face turned disapproving. “Exactly the way you’ve been here all afternoon. Just for myself, not the walls, or your Instagram, or a magazine.”

“Aww.” Spanish Teddy Bear is the sweetest, she cooed to herself. I thought he meant naked, and that he was going to try to say he wanted to do a “tasteful” thing instead of something pornographic, which is just what dudes say when they want you to feel classy and glamorous about being pornographic. It’s nice of him too to acknowledge that he recognizes how done I am with being photographed for other people right now, and even for my own social media. I haven’t posed anything with myself in a couple of weeks, because I’m sick of looking at myself, to be honest. I’m sick of hearing about myself too. One of the nice things about weeks and weeks without horse shows is not having to hear about me. I’m so fucking sick of me. Last night was too much about me. I want to crawl back under my rock until Doha. But I can be photographed for him, because that’s adorable. Especially since I don’t even look cute right now, I don’t think.

“Hopefully you don’t think too hard after I read the poem,” he snorted. “That would ruin the picture.”

“Ugh, do we have to?”

“Yes. I’ll go get the book.”

Juan didn’t have far to go. Much to Christina’s surprise, her gift to him was right on the footstool-table next to the chaise by the window. That meant he was actively reading it, at least part-time. That was where he kept the current book when it wasn’t traveling with him for a match, or when he wasn’t reading it in bed. She figured he was reading a novel that he would have taken to Chelsea Harbour with him on Friday night since she didn’t notice him put the Frank Bidart poems in his reading nook after the game on Saturday. On occasion, she had a “travel” read and a “home” read going on at the same time too- a practice she learned from the player. He said it helped him get his head into the right lane. The “travel” read, regardless of type, was for shifting focus away from everyday life to the match. He told Christina that it was especially helpful during the busy parts of the season when the team played every 3 or 4 days. The “home” read signaled the shutoff of football and the time to relax and recharge. The first kind tended to be more inspirational, like an autobiography, and the second variety was most often a work of fiction.

They met in the middle. Christina sat sideways on the sofa, Indian-style, and then collapsed backward to enjoy the stretching that position provided and also the offered focal point- the ceiling. Looking at the matte white ceiling was definitely preferable to making her expression available for his purposes during or after the reading of the poem. He sat by her legs and put his socked feet up on the coffee table. Without preamble, he began the poem.

“Advice to the Players. There is something missing in our definition, vision of a human being: the need to make. We are creatures who need to make. Because existence is willy-nilly thrust into our hands, our fate is to make something- if nothing else, the shape cut by the arc of our lives. My parents saw corrosively the arc of their lives. Making is the mirror in which we see ourselves. But being is making: not only large things, a family, a book, a business: but the shape we give this afternoon, a conversation between two friends, a meal. Or mis-shape. Without clarity about what we make, and the choices that underlie it, the need to make is a curse, a misfortune. The culture in which we live honors specific kinds of making (shaping or mis-shaping a business, a family) but does not understand how central making itself is as manifestation and mirror of the self, fundamental as eating or sleeping. In the images with which our culture incessantly teaches us, the cessation of labor is the beginning of pleasure; the goal of work is to cease working, an endless paradise of unending diversion. In the United States at the end of the twentieth century, the greatest luxury is to live a life in which the work that one does to earn a living, and what one has the appetite to make, coincide- by a kind of grace are the same, one. Without clarity, a curse, a misfortune. My intuition about what is of course un-provable comes, I’m sure, from observing, absorbing as a child the lives of my parents: the dilemmas, contradictions, chaos as they lived out their own often unacknowledged, barely examined desires to makes. They saw corrosively the shape cut by the arc of their lives. My parents never made something commensurate to their will to make, which I take to be, in varying degrees, the general human condition- as it is my own. Making is the mirror in which we see ourselves. Without clarity, a curse, a misfortune. Horrible the fate of the advice-giver in our culture: to repeat oneself in a thousand contexts until death, or irrelevance. I abjure advice-giver. Go make you ready.”

“It’s remarkable how you managed to conjure a poem that hits on me missing my family at the same time as my need to figure out what’s next in my life and then also the way you’re “making” with the mirror, with Common Goal,” the very impressed rider commented after giving all the words a moment to land. Every stanza felt immediately relevant to her, and she wanted to make sure Juan understood that she got it all. “My parents were the work to not work people, and they tried to make a business and a family, and never made their own likeness, or what they truky wanted to make. Like, I think my mom would rather have owned her own knitting store than been who she was. You and I are the lucky ones who get paid to make the thing we want to make, or our likeness, mirror image, whatever. But then we kind of grow out of that and we realize what we need to make is actually bigger than football and riding. For you, it’s Common Goal. And the weirdness and equilibrium I experience on and off right now is me trying to figure out what exactly it is I want to make next. And at the same time, I think you and I are kind of making our combined mirror reflection together too...” It all came out so quickly as her mind linked the ideas for the second time, and as she got more excited about them. “Did you think of those things when you first read it, or did it stay with you for a little while and the relevance came later?”

“Right away. From the title, I thought, “This is an important thing for me to read. This is about me, in some ways,” and then I read on and I thought, “This is Chris’ parents, and this is why their relationship was how it was, and why her mum resents her so much. Chris makes the thing she needs to make from inside. Mrs. Martin made the thing she thought she was supposed to.” And I liked the repetitive lines. “Without clarity, a curse, a misfortune.” I try now to have clarity when I make decisions. No lies, no confusion. You’re right,” he smiled as his friend peeked over at him from the flat of her back. “I do feel like I’m making the right thing now, besides football. I like this poem very much.”

“Thank you for sharing it,” she smiled back. “Sorry I objected. I should know to trust you by now,” she chuckled. He grabbed her wrist when she lifted it for help, and pulled her back up and forward so that she could reward him with a sweet kiss in the middle of his lips. They could have dissected the poem together, quite happily, for the two hours before dinner. It just wasn’t necessary. They didn’t need to talk each other into believing their take, or dissect it. Knowing that was sort of novel. Christina appreciated it.

“I have enjoyed the book a lot. It was a good choice, cariña.”

“I enjoy your face a lot.” She put her hands around the back of the player’s neck, paused to watch for the flattery’s impact to arrive in his beautiful blues, and then pulled on him until he got the message that she wanted him to lie beside her, not just be annoying and hang on his neck. He went pretty willingly, and she got more of her arms around his head when they found a comfortable spot together, and she rubbed her right leg on his bare ones until it pushed her leggings up her calf a little. “I know you want to take pictures of me acting like I live here,” she teased knowingly. “But I’d rather be a lazy bum on the couch.” Juan’s nose was captured playfully between her teeth until he kissed her chin. He found an unexpectedly ticklish spot, and took advantage when Christina’s shiver-like reaction brought her midsection even closer to him. He hugged her waist tight with one arm.

“We’re getting closer to the part of the season when I’m a lazy bum on the couch a lot,” he told her while she played absently with the hair at the back of his head, well below the thinning spot. “I hope you’re joining often.”

“I want to stay here for most of the week of the horse show. Schü and Lukas are coming for the Sunday and Monday, and Tuesday, after, so we’ll stay at a hotel, but I’ll be here for 6 days before that. I don’t know if you want an extra bum on your couch for that long.”

“It’s a sexy bum, so I want,” the Chelsea man smiled, squeezing her butt.

“I might want to come for New Year’s too, but I dunno yet. I have no idea, really.” I also kind of want some magical night with Schü. I owe him that, and I want it anyway. I want special with him. We never have that anymore. We have nice nights ended early because of dead goldfish, and then two nights of crying until midnight because of the dead goldfish. How dare the goldfish go and die when it knew Lukas liked to watch him in the light from his nightlight when he wakes up in the night and can’t sleep? How dare he leave him with no soothing thing to watch. IIIIII didn’t know he did that, but surely the goldfish knew.

“You’re always welcome with me, baby girl.” Juan rubbed his nose on the rider’s and then kissed her, long and low-energy, and perfect for the moment. He was finally able to shed the longstanding feeling that their time together was limited, so he was no longer hastening to get his fill of her, and get “through” everything he wanted with her before her next departure. There was a new calmness- a change in behavior dictated by the realization that the clock wasn’t running anymore. Christina was always coming back to him. They didn’t need to have sex in 6 different positions on the first night, or hurry to get from couch-cuddle-flirting to more serious foreplay to actual sex. “Hurry” was relative, of course, because the player’s imperative was subtle, but it was noteworthy by its absence. She watched him for a second, the side of her thumb resting lightly on his cheek, and reflected on that change. I wish I had his ability to settle down in something and believe it’s going the way I want even when I know it will probably change. Thinking too hard about anything was unpalatable in that moment of closeness, and shared breath, and soft pads of fingers on highly personal skin. The equestrian star took her turn to kiss her favorite Blue, mostly on just one side of his mouth because getting to the whole thing would have required her to move her head a little and that was too much. The exact position she was in- literally and figuratively, physically and emotionally- was too perfect to alter either by movement or consideration. His lips were perfect- warm, unblemished by dryness or cracking or even a wrinkle, tense just enough to hold the kiss together, still enough not to interrupt the transfer of love and comfort through that most import line of communication. A kiss like that was practically nothing and almost everything simultaneously. And it was, afterward, symbolic of a cornerstone in recent memory.

“I think I want to tell you something,” Christina whispered after her smooch. Her regular conversational voice was small enough to fit in the very small space between them without even breathing too much air in Juan’s face- something she often took into consideration when snuggling close with anyone- but that voice came with full conviction and confidence and those weren’t the preconditions for what she wanted to say, so all that came out when she opened her mouth was a sweet whisper.

“What?” the Spaniard whispered back teasingly, with a grin, almost like stage-whispering.

“I used to really hate the person I was with you- like because you made me want to do things that hurt Schü, and our relationship has, at times, made it very difficult for me to look after my responsibilities and ride my best, and do the right thing. I loved being with you, but I hated who I was for that,” she explained with a bit more surety. “Now I feel like I’m actually growing and improving myself- I don’t want to say because of you- but with you, together. I’m making decisions that feel good, and I’m finding it easier to be happy and content wherever I am, physically and in a moment. I don’t know- Maybe it’s because the Olympic hurdle is in the rearview now. Maybe that was the big difference. I just don’t think it was. I think it’s you. I’ve said in the past that we are the worst thing for each other. I don’t think so anymore. I think you’re the best thing for me right now.” I didn’t really mean to get so into this, the rider realized, pointer finger on Juan’s chin, which she was staring at instead of the receptive blues she looked into while she talked. I wasn’t going to say that much. I hate when I start trying to tell someone a small thing, or a short thing, and it gets me thinking, and then I can’t stop talking. Now I’m rambling to myself because...who knows. Anyway. “I’m glad you’re coming to Doha too,” she finished after reaching for some kind of period for the declaration, or something to take up some more airtime since Juan wasn’t saying anything.

“I told you we could be happy together and that we can do more than be miserable together. Not miserable together because we’re together, but be together because one or both is miserable about other things. You know what I mean,” the footballer laughed. He was recalling a conversation they fought through years back, right after Lukas was born. Christina didn’t think they could ever be a couple because all of their experience together was when one or both of them was in bad shape because of their other relationships. They were always closest when their lives were the most tumultuous and generally unhappy. “And now you understand how I feel with you,” he added, more sincerely. “I feel good about myself, and happy with myself, with you. I always have, more or less.”

“I think it’s more for you now though. Ever since we stopped lying.”

“That could be.”

“Okay I feel too grown up and in touch with my feelings now. Give me something stupid and immature to talk about.”

“Can I tickle you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can I go get the camera and take pictures of you?”

“Can I do goofy poses?”

“Yes.”

“K. I need another kiss first though.”