#meditation is actually impossible for me i cannot clear my mind

[xysidhequeen]

Been overstimulated for going on 27 hours now. I have slept (badly, refer to: Insomnia) and am still overstimulated. I've had 2.5 panic attacks over this of varying degrees of severity.

I

Just

Want

It

To

STOP

I have tried sleeping (didn't work.) Music (made it worse) watching movies (made it worse. Then it didn't and I was blessedly distracted for a few minutes) coloring apps (I got overwhelmed) I am in a room by myself with blackout curtains, the lights off and a fan for white noise. I've tried alcohol (did nothing) 🍃 (eh.). I drink a ton of water.

Please if anyone has any suggestions that are not meditate or listen to the torture noises of 8D music please please please tell me so I stop wanting to claw my own skin off.

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Osho, I have been your sannyasin for seven years and I am unable to express my gratitude, as it gave my life direction and joy and grace and more. Now, being here for only one week, I realize that I have always had a need for personal guidance from somebody tuning into me and my questions. This strong need was only reinforced during a counseling session today, here. Beloved master, would you please comment?’

The way you are growing in silence, in your meditations, in your grace, and the way the gratitude is coming to you, you don’t need any personal guidance. You need to be more and more open to the impersonal existence. The idea of personal guidance is mind’s old habit to become dependent on someone; and I am struggling hard against your habits. The whole existence is available to guide you—and you are now in a position to be in direct contact with the universe. As your gratitude deepens, as your grace becomes more and more clear, as your silence becomes more and more rooted in you—it is the universe itself which takes you into its own hands. Those hands are invisible, but they are there; you are not orphans in the universe. You are immensely needed and loved, you are just not aware of it.

My own suggestion is to drop the idea of personal guidance, because anybody will try to guide you according to his mind, according to his ideas of how you should be. That’s what all the teachers of the world have been doing: imposing their idea, their image on people who are searching and seeking guidance. It is one of the most dangerous games to play, because in it you are always the loser. If the teacher succeeds in imposing certain directions, certain patterns, disciplines, according to me it is not guidance; it is misguidance. Because nobody knows your unique self—only you can know it. And you have to grow according to your nature, not according to anybody’s guidance.

To me, to be natural, to be spontaneous is enough. All guides have been misguides. And you can see it: the whole universe of humanity is living in tremendous misguidance. Otherwise why should there be so much insanity? Why there should be so much misery, so much agony and spiritual suffering? The reason is that nobody has been allowed to be just himself, his natural being.

Your so-called religions don’t trust nature; they trust in holy scriptures; they trust in dead words spoken thousands of years before by people we do not know. Whether they knew anything, or they were just creating fictions… unless you know, you can never be certain. But they are molding you according to patterns created in the past. This process of molding people into Christians, Hindus, Mohammedans, Buddhists, goes against the very basic human right; it does not allow you to be your natural self. And unless you are yourself, you cannot be happy.

Just think, if there were teachers teaching roses that they have to become lotuses… Fortunately, roses don’t care about teachers and religions and churches. But just think for a moment: if people were there who were telling the roses to be lotuses, the marigolds to be roses, what would be the ultimate outcome of it? Roses would try to become lotuses, which they can never become; it is not their self-nature. They can only be roses, beautiful, immensely graceful, fragrant. But if this idea of being somebody other than what their nature is, is imposed on them, two things will happen: they will never become lotuses, but their whole energy will be wasted in trying to become lotuses. And the second thing is they will not be roses either, because from where will they find the energy to be roses? That whole energy is making an effort for the impossible. Actually the same has happened with humanity. Everybody is giving you an idea; everybody is ready to tell you how you should be.

All ‘shoulds’ and all ‘should nots’ have to be abandoned. You simply have to listen to your own inner voice. And wherever it leads, just go without bothering whether people think it is right or wrong.

If you can become just your own self, if you can blossom into your intrinsic nature, then only you will have blissfulness—a peace which cannot be expressed in words, and a certain poetry to your being; a certain dance to your being, because you will be in tune with existence. To be in tune with yourself is the only way to be in tune with existence.

Nobody needs personal guidance, because all personal guidance is a beautiful name for dependence on somebody and he is going to distort you.

I don’t give you any discipline—I don’t tell you, you should be this or that. I simply say you should become silent, so that you can listen to your still, small voice. That is your real guide; the guide is within you.

I know hundreds of psychoanalysts, psychologists, so-called counselors. They are burdened with all kinds of problems, but they have just learned the technique, either from education or from the libraries. And they go on advising—to advise is so simple. In their own lives they are not what they are advising. If you watch the life, as I have watched very closely the life of people like Sigmund Freud—the topmost counselors in the world: Karl Gustav Jung, Alfred Adler, Assagioli—I have been simply shocked to see that these people have become the guides to millions of people.

I remember one small incident… Wilhelm Reich, as a young psychoanalyst, was deeply interested to meet Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis. He had read in the universities and he was a genius, perhaps of a far greater quality than Sigmund Freud himself. Sigmund Freud was in his old age, just the last years, and this Wilhelm Reich was asking again and again for an appointment. Finally he got the appointment. And the way Sigmund Freud treated him is so inhuman, just because he was a young man, fresh from the university. He had come with some significant questions, and he had created in his own mind a great image of Sigmund Freud, naturally. He asked, ‘I have come from far away to inquire a few things: One, you insist that unless a man is psychoanalyzed, completely psychoanalyzed, he will never be out of confusion and misery. Can you show me a man who has been completely analyzed, so I can just meet him and see what a completely clear man would be like? I have read about it, but I don’t have any personal experience of meeting somebody who is beyond confusion and is pure clarity.’ Sigmund Freud became angry, and he said, ‘What kind of nonsense… psychoanalysis is not a simple thing. It takes decades for anybody to become completely psychoanalyzed.’ Reich was shocked, but he said, ‘You have been working your whole life. Have you psychoanalyzed any person completely, so that I can go and see the person? Because other than that there is no proof that what you are saying has any significance as far as science is concerned.’ And seeing Sigmund Freud getting angry… because Sigmund Freud was not accustomed to such questions, he was surrounded with cronies, yea-sayers. Whatever nonsense he would say, they would say that it was a great truth. Seeing Sigmund Freud getting so angry, Reich said, ‘Drop that subject. I want to know whether you have been psychoanalyzed totally or not.’ And Sigmund Freud had to tell him, ‘Get out! And never again try to come to me; you don’t know how to behave.’ The reality is that all his life Sigmund Freud was being asked by his colleagues again and again, ‘Just as you psychoanalyze us, now we know the technique, why don’t you get psychoanalyzed, by any of us you choose? We would like to have a look into your inner world of dreams, imaginations, desires, to see whether what you claim to be absolute clarity, peace, integrity is there inside you or not?’ He refused continuously; he never allowed himself to be psychoanalyzed, and he is the founder of psychoanalysis. Why was he so afraid to be psychoanalyzed? He knew perfectly well that it is easy to advise others, but it is difficult to transform yourself. He was suffering from ordinary human problems, the same tensions, the same misery, the same repressions, the same inhibitions, the same taboos. And he was afraid to open up his dream world because that would show things which would be a proof that although he was the founder, he himself was not what he was trying for the whole of humanity to be. The same is the situation today. Psychoanalysts themselves once in a while go to another psychoanalyst to be psychoanalyzed, because they have become too burdened with problems. It is such a stupid game.

If Gautam Buddha says anything about meditation it is his own experience, not just a theoretical, intellectual formulation. If he says something about the inner light, he has seen it. If he says it is possible to go beyond mind, he has gone beyond mind, only then he says it. And the people who watched him for forty-two years continuously never found any flaw, never found him at any time angry, at any time miserable, at any time sad. One cannot pretend for forty-two years continuously; one needs holidays! Even to pretend for a few hours to be what you are not is such a tension and such a burden that you are going to drop it and expose yourself at the slightest excuse. This is the difference between the Western psychoanalytic movement and the Eastern movement for meditation.

I have told you a Sufi story… A woman was very much impressed by a Sufi mystic, and she was very worried about her only son. She was living for him; the father was dead. That boy was her life, and she wanted him to become something. The boy was too attached to eating sweets and all kinds of junk. She tried hard; everybody, the teachers, the priests all tried, but the boy was absolutely indifferent to their advice; he continued to eat sweets. He was the only son, so finally the mother would relax and would give him what he wanted; otherwise, he would remain hungry. But he would not eat anything that he did not want to eat; he would eat only things that he wanted to eat. And those were things which were not healthy, which were not nourishing, which could create problems later in his life. The Sufi mystic had come wandering into the village, and the woman thought it was a good chance. That man has such a tremendous and powerful aura around him, perhaps he may be able to change this stupid boy’s mind. She took the boy… she had been taking him to anybody who could help; it had become almost a routine thing. The boy went there very reluctantly, very resistant; it had become almost a question of his own self-respect. When the woman told the Sufi master about the situation, he said, ‘You will have to forgive me. Right now I cannot say a single word to this beautiful boy. I am old, I am seventy years, but it will take at least two weeks for me to be able to say something to him.’ The woman could not believe him. Anybody, any idiot was ready to advise. And a great mystic followed by many, many people, says to the boy, ‘You will have to forgive me; you came and I cannot advise you right now. You will have to give me two weeks at least.’ The boy for the first time dropped his reluctance, his resistance. For the first time he was respected, he was accepted as a dignified human being; he was not condemned out of hand. And the old man was really concerned, he wanted to give him some advice which would be of importance; he needed at least two weeks’ time. The mother was absolutely shocked, could not believe that this great mystic cannot advise a small boy right now on such a trivial matter. But what to do? They had to wait two weeks. After two weeks she came again. This time the boy came very joyously. In fact, he was very eager about how fast the days were moving, and he was counting because he wanted to see the mystic again. ‘He is a totally different man from all other men you have taken me to.’ The woman was surprised because the boy was always resistant, reluctant. He went against his will, was forced to go—and this time he is so eager! He cannot wait for two weeks; those two weeks look like two years. Finally the day came, and in the early morning the boy took a shower, changed his clothes, got ready. The mother said, ‘What is the hurry?’ He said, ‘I want to see the man. He is the only man that I have felt respects others.’

Otherwise, advising others is a kind of humiliation; it is saying: I know and you do not know. I am the guide and you are the guided. I am the teacher and you are the taught. It is enjoying a certain egotism at the cost of humiliating the other person.

They went, and the woman first asked, ‘Before I ask about the boy, I want to know why it took two weeks for you—is it such a great philosophical problem?’ The mystic said, ‘If it were a philosophical problem I would have answered immediately; it is an existential problem. I am seventy years old; he is just seven years old. I have lived ten times more than the boy, still I love to eat sweets. And as long as I myself eat sweets I cannot say anything. These two weeks I tried not to eat sweets, and to see what happens. My advice will depend on my own experience, not just on the common opinion that sweets are bad. They may be bad, but if I cannot drop them at seventy years of age, to expect a small boy to drop them… I cannot advise that.’ The boy was immensely impressed. A man at this age tortured himself for two weeks? And he said to the boy, ‘My son, it is very difficult. I managed to drop sweets, and I have managed now for the rest of my life—but to advise you I feel a little shaky. You are so young. To drop sweets if you love them will be arduous, and to impose this idea on you I will be almost being violent and violating your individual right. So all that I can say is, it is good and it is healthy, but it is very difficult. It is a challenge. You can choose whether you are ready to take the challenge. I have dropped them for the rest of my life; only now have I the authority to say to you that you can also drop. But it is certainly a difficult thing. Are you ready for a challenge, an adventure?’ The boy said, ‘I drop them right now, and for my whole life. If you can drop them, why can’t I drop them? And you are so old; I am so young. You are getting weaker; I am getting stronger. I can take the challenge; you don’t feel worried about it.’ The mother could not believe what is happening: it is a miracle. The boy is persuading the old man, ‘I will be able.’ The old man said, ‘My feeling is, you should also think about it for two weeks, try…’ The boy said, ‘No. I am dropping them right now in your presence, with your blessings.’

The people you go to for personal counseling are in the same boat in which you are; they have the same problems. Here, I have all kinds of psychotherapists, and they are good at their work technically. They know how to help people, but they don’t know how to help themselves. They write their problems to me, and they are the same problems for which they are known to be good counselors, good therapists. To know something technically is one thing, and to know something existentially, experientially, is another thing.

As far as you are concerned, you are already moving on the right path. These are good symptoms that you are feeling a sense of direction, joy, grace, and more; these are indications that you are on the right path—you don’t need any personal counseling. You need to be yourself more and more, more integrated, more natural, more spontaneous. You have found the path, now anybody else can disturb it. It is possible that you may go to a counselor who has not even grown as much as you, but he is very knowledgeable. His expertise is great; he can talk about things and distract you from the path.

A meditator needs no personal guidance. A meditator, on the contrary, needs only one thing: the atmosphere of meditation. He needs other meditators; he needs to be surrounded by other meditators. Because whatever goes on happening within us is not only within us, it affects people who are close by. In this communion people are at different stages of meditation. To meditate with these people, just to sit silently with these people, and you will be pulled more and more towards your own intrinsic potentiality.

I don’t want you to become somebody else, a Gautam Buddha or a Jesus Christ. I want you to become just yourself, anonymous, nobody special, but blissful. And you are already on the right path. You have taken a few steps; now just go on moving, trusting yourself, and on each step your confidence will become deeper.

Never ask for advice, because everybody is so unique and so different that there has never been any person like you before, nor is there going to be another person like you again. So really, no guidelines for you exist. But existence is greatly compassionate. It has given you the whole program of your life in a seed form. If you don’t ask anybody, and just silently listen to your own heart and go on following it, you will reach the space where you can feel at home; where suddenly you realize who you are, where suddenly you feel a synchronicity with the whole existence.

All that is natural, the trees, the clouds, the mountains, the oceans, with all of them you will find a certain harmony. You will not find harmony with machines, big and great computers, factories, automobiles, railway trains. You may not find any harmony… there is no question, because these are heartless, lifeless things. They don’t know how to sing; they don’t know how to dance. Have you seen any computer dancing? Have you heard of any computer falling in love with a woman computer? Only machines will be left out. With all that is natural and all that grows, all that blossoms, all that moves and breathes, all that has a heartbeat, you will find a tremendous harmony. Your heartbeat will be merging and melting into the universal heartbeat—no personal counseling.

I am not a counselor. Never even for a single moment in my life have I thought that somebody should be according to my ideas. I share my ideas, I share my experiences—not so that you should become a certain ideal; I share with you as fellow travelers. It may harmonize with you. You may find that it comes suddenly to your awareness that this is very natural for you; that you were not aware of it, you have become aware. But it is not my idea then. It is your own idea of which you have not been aware. I share my ideas with you, not to make you into certain prototypes, but to give you an insight into your own nature.

I know myself, I know my nature; I know that all my well-wishers, my parents, my teachers, my professors, my friends, have tried their hardest to make me something else. And I am immensely grateful to existence that I never listened to anybody; I simply went on following my own inner voice. Whether it leads me into hell or into heaven I have not cared, because my feeling is that if my nature leads me into hell then perhaps that is the place where I belong. In heaven I will be an outsider, I will feel unfit. Wherever my nature leads is the place that can give me the feeling of joy and the feeling that life has tremendous meaning, that it has great splendor; that it is a miracle just to breathe in and breathe out; that nothing can be more perfect if you reach to the climax of your own nature.

Avoid advisers—because they are so available all around that whether you ask their advice or not they will give it. People love to give advice; it has a certain joy. People would love to create their own carbon copies, and they will feel very happy that they are the original and everybody is just at the most a true copy. You have your own originality. It is better to remember it always. Never go against your inner feelings.

Very few people in the world have come to the flowering, and the reason is that very few people have been rebellious enough against the so-called advisers. Very few people have dared to find their path and have not followed the superhighway where everybody is going. But those are the few people who have helped humanity, its whole evolution, its whole intelligence. Just take away those few people and man will be back to where Darwin thinks he started growing to be a human being. The crowd must have laughed at that time also. When a monkey came down from the trees and stood on the ground on his two feet, the whole crowd of monkeys must have laughed, giggled: ‘Look at that character! Look at that fool who is going against tradition, against our forefathers, against our religion, against our race.’ But they must have condemned that monkey who rebelled against the whole culture of the monkeys, their civilization; they must have said, ‘You have fallen down.’ Naturally, he has fallen down from the trees. And as time passed, he must have become weaker. Monkeys are far stronger than you are; they have to be, they are doing continuous exercise jumping from one tree to another. You have to do something else; you cannot do that kind of jumping now. You are not capable; your body has changed completely. But the first monkey who came down must have been a genius, must have wanted to explore life on his own rather than with the crowd and the mob. Other monkeys are still hanging on the trees—they are traditional people! They believe in their ancestors, they believe in their golden past and they don’t want to change.

To change, one needs courage—and to be alone, and to make your path. And make your path by walking it; don’t look for a ready-made path. It may have served somebody else but it was not made for you.

If one remembers some self-respect and dignity of his own being, then there is no need of anybody to teach you, to help you. You are born as a complete being, with all the potential. You just have to work on your potential and you will find the goal.

Leo Tolstoy is reported to have said—and before I quote him, I have to give you the background…. He had the most miserable life possible. He was born in a super-rich family, a distant cousin to the royalty. He himself was a count; his wife was a countess. Both families were within the ten topmost families of Russia, but he was utterly miserable. He could not manage to live his life with his family, with his wife, and the reason was simply that both were of totally different natures. The wife could not even look at him. To him the way he was behaving was saintly. He used rotten clothes the way beggars do, old secondhand shoes, and lived in a way only a beggar is supposed to live. Naturally, the wife could not tolerate him. She has lived like a queen, and she was one of the richest women in Russia. But Leo Tolstoy was a Gandhian, you will be surprised to know. Although Gandhi came later, in the last days of Leo Tolstoy, Mahatma Gandhi and he had written a few letters to each other. And Mahatma Gandhi declared that he has been under three masters; one is Leo Tolstoy, another is Henry Thoreau, and the third is a Jaina monk, Shrimad Rajchandra. These three people impressed Mahatma Gandhi. Mahatma Gandhi was working in South Africa but he was very much impressed by the lifestyle of Leo Tolstoy. His wife was so angry that they were not even talking to each other. Talking meant always a fight. They had different natures. Tolstoy was trying hard to make his wife live a simple life, the life of poverty because, ‘blessed are the poor.’ He was a fanatical follower of Jesus Christ. Literally, he was living a poor life—and the wife was feeling absolute repugnance. She wanted him to live like a prince, as he really was. They quarreled their whole lives, both trying to make the other be according to his ideas, or her ideas. This is an extreme case, but this is the story of all families: nobody is allowed to be himself—people go on manipulating.

Maneesha is writing a book about her experiences with me. Just the other day I heard that her mother from Melbourne, Australia, has written a very angry letter, ‘First you made me condemned by the Christian society here in Melbourne, and now you are trying to write a book, I hear. That means you would expose it to the whole world, and particularly in Melbourne where I will have to suffer.’ And it is not any exception. Devageet has received a letter from his mother saying, ‘Stop writing the book,’ because he is also writing a book. Now these poor mothers are in great anxiety. What are these people going to write about them?—that must be a deep fear. Secondly, they will expose that Christianity is no longer relevant, that something new, something basically discontinuous with the past is needed. And that’s what sannyas is. So they must be afraid of the crowd, of the church, of the congregation, of the priest; what they will say: ‘Look what your son has done,’ or ‘Look what your daughter has done. You did not bring them up rightly; they have gone astray.’ Everybody is concerned that everybody else should not go astray. And what do they mean by astray? You should not go in a different direction than they are going. And you know their whole life is misery, you know their whole mind is full of anxiety and agony; you have never seen them joyous. You have never felt a deep harmoniousness with your own parents. And they have tried in every way—in your helplessness, because every child is helpless—to force you onto the way that they think is right. But their whole life proves that they are not right. If their life was a life of joy and songs and celebrations, the children would have followed without any punishment, without any harassment, without any torture. And now Maneesha and Devageet are not small children; they have their lives, they have their lifestyle and they want to share it with the whole world. Why should their mothers be so concerned? What is the fear?

Leo Tolstoy says, ‘All happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’ I cannot agree with him; I would rather change the whole statement to the contrary: All unhappy families resemble one another, but each happy family is happy in its own way. And the same is true about individuals: All unhappy individuals resemble each other; only happy individuals have a uniqueness. Happiness, growing towards blissfulness, makes you unique in a world which is full of misery.

Always remember, the whole effort of psychoanalysis and other therapies, and other so-called wise men is nothing but to help you remain normal, to help you remain part of the crowd. The moment you try to become an individual you will be condemned, because five billion people cannot be wrong—although they are suffering in hell. But the number is never decisive about truth. Ralph Waldo Emerson has made a statement: ‘To be great is to be misunderstood.’

I knew one very beautiful man… There were only two men in India who were respected so highly as to be called ‘Mahatma’; Mahatma means the great soul. One was Mahatma Gandhi and another was Mahatma Bhagwandin. I was very much interested in Mahatma Bhagwandin, just as he was very loving towards me. I was a small child when we became friends, because he had stayed with my family. He had come to deliver some lectures in the town, and we used to go for morning walks together. By and by, we forgot completely that he is very ancient, old. We started arguing and discussing. It was just by coincidence that he was on his deathbed in Nagpur and I was coming from Wardha, from a lecture tour. Somebody in the train told me, ‘Mahatma Bhagwandin is very, very sick, and there seems to be no possibility that he will survive more than a week.’ So I stopped at Nagpur and went to see him. He was almost dead; he had become absolutely like a skeleton. He opened his eyes and he took my hand in his hand, and he said, ‘I am worried about you, that you will be misunderstood your whole life. There is still time for you to agree with the masses, whether they are right or wrong.’ And he was saying it out of compassion. He said, ‘Because I have suffered my whole life, and I have been condemned, I don’t want you to be condemned.’ I said, ‘Do you want me to be a hypocrite and respectable? Do you want me to be something other than my nature allows me?’ He said, ‘I knew you would argue, and I know that you are right. It is just a fatherly feeling; I have suffered my whole life because I always was in favor of unpopular movements, unpopular ideologies… and you are far more dangerous, you are against everybody.’ I said, ‘I have to be against everybody. I have to be just myself. And anybody who wants to pull me in some other direction is not my friend.’ I said, ‘I understand your love, but you should also understand my situation. I would rather be condemned by the whole world than go against my nature. Because who cares about the world? They cannot bring me the truth; they cannot bring me the meaning; they cannot bring me the significance. What can they give to me?—respectability, honor? And what am I going to do with respectability and honor? Those are all bogus words used to cheat people. I simply want to be nobody; I am going to stick to myself. And this is my promise to you as you are dying. Remember my words even when you are dead, that I will…’ He said, ‘I knew you wouldn’t listen. And I am happy that you are absolutely determined.’ He had tears of joy in his eyes—not of sadness, joy. He said, ‘If you had agreed with me, I would have felt very sad that the world has lost another individual. But you don’t agree with me, even when you see I am dying. In such a situation anybody will say, just to be polite, ‘Yes, whatever you say I will do.’ Even in such a situation you are not ready to accept. I can die joyfully because I have loved you and I have watched how you are growing—of course with a concern that you will be condemned by religions, by governments, by masses.’

But what about all your psychotherapists, your leaders, your teachers, your universities—what is their function? Their function is to keep you within the fold; to keep you just a sheep amongst the crowd of sheep and never allow you to be yourself. They are all angry with me for telling this to young people who have not yet died—because people mostly die nearabout thirty years of age, that is average. And then they are buried when they are seventy. That is almost forty years that people live a posthumous life; they have died long before. The day you decide that it is better to be a hypocrite and just do whatever everybody else is doing and not be different, you have died—you have committed suicide. My whole teaching is: Don’t commit spiritual suicide.

You don’t need anybody else to guide you, because whoever guides you will guide you wrongly. He cannot know your nature and he cannot look into your future. He has no eyes, and there is no possibility. How can you see in a seed the flowers that will come one day years after? All that can be done is that the seed should be given a right soil—not right advice. Not that you have to be a lotus, or you have to be a rose. Care should be taken that the seed is not destroyed, that when small leaves start growing out of it, they are not destroyed. That’s the function of the master: not to guide you but just to protect you when you need protection, when you are so fragile, so new. Just growing, the new leaves coming out of the earth, entering into an unknown world where strong winds blow, heavy rain falls, there is every possibility that you may be destroyed.

The function of the master is not to lead you. The function of the master is to help you, to protect you, but only to the moment when you can stand on your own. Then slowly, slowly detach himself from you so that you can dance alone in the sky under the stars in your full glory.

Johannes Wolfgang von Goethe has made a beautiful statement: ‘All theory, dear friend is gray. But the golden tree of actual life springs ever green.’ Avoid theories; they are all gray. Let the dead people discuss theories. The living have something more golden, something more alive. They have to love; they have to meditate. They have to become enlightened before death knocks on their doors.

Also remember that life is not the way it is lived in California! California is almost a vast crazy place where people are going from one master to another master, just like any fashion. Just as they change their toothpaste, they change their masters. Just as they change their soaps, they change their teachers, their counselors, their psychoanalysts. Oscar Wilde used to say, ‘Fashion is a form of ugliness, so intolerable that we have to change it every six months.’ There is no need.

Just the other day, I received a letter from a sannyasin saying that he is going to a teacher; has he my blessings? Can he go? People are in a strange situation; they want to ride on many boats. They are creating their life in such a way that it will be a disaster. If you are growing well… and he writes that his meditation is going well, he is starting to see things that have so far been only words. Now at this fragile moment, going to somebody is dangerous. But if I say, ‘Don’t go,’ I interfere. And I would not like to interfere, even if you are going wrong. So I have informed him: ‘I cannot bless because I don’t know to whom you are going, but you are intelligent enough. If you feel that the person is going in some way to nourish your growth, which is going perfectly right even according to you—you are feeling that you are absolutely on the right path, that misery is disappearing, that suffering is disappearing, that you are no more worried; that a kind of playfulness, weightlessness is arising—if you are aware of all this…. Remember, that if anybody can be of nourishment, it is perfectly good to go.’ But in fact, there is no need to go anywhere, you are going so right. Go more deeply into it, rather than going sideways. Go straight like an arrow.

— Osho (The Invitation)

[tommysparker]

Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :) 

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks. 

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.  

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving. 

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that. 

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst. 

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed. 

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it. 

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.” 

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.” 

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.” 

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made. 

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka. 

You left without sparing a glance back. 

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward. 

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.” 

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.” 

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?” 

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.” 

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently. 

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.” 

“Like what?” 

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts. 

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth. 

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is. 

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted. 

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?” 

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.” 

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests. 

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Crystal.” 

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much. 

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily. 

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…” 

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?” 

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest. 

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?” 

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.” 

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves. 

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.” 

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.” 

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?” 

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically. 

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted. 

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.” 

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.” 

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.” 

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.” 

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. 

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt. 

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state. 

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you. 

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.” 

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.” 

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.” 

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.” 

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal. 

Peace. 

Like this moment. 

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. 

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go. 

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long. 

“Hey! We’re here.”  

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reblog and comment what will happen on the mission  👀👀

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[iuilefae]

meditating with ADHD

i think meditation can be super intimidating for those of us with minds that never seem to quiet, but it is possible! if you’re someone who’s interested in meditation, but think it will be impossible with ADHD, here are some tips that have helped me!

pick a time of day that is going to be quiet in your house. i live with my family of 5 and meditating while the whole house is home and awake is super distracting. so i choose to meditate before i go to bed. i go to bed later than everyone else typically, so the whole house is quiet and i can actually focus. if you live next to a highway, or have noisy, night-owl, roommates, you can try headphones with a white-noise sound playing at a low volume to drown out some of those distracting noises.

consistency is key. meditation isn’t about how long you do it, or the quality of the session, it’s about doing it often. if you have a bedtime routine, maybe work it in between brushing your teeth and setting your alarm. if you don’t, put up a whiteboard, chalkboard, or a post it note with a reminder to meditate today. ADHD for me means if i can’t see it, i’m not thinking about it, so putting chores or reminders in a place where i will see them often helps me to remember what i need to do.

despite popular belief, meditation is not about “clearing your mind”. while the goal is for your mind to be calm, your mind is not going to be “clear”. especially with ADHD, you’re going to constantly have thoughts. that’s okay!! focus on your breathing. think about the way the air in your room smells, the way your chest rises and falls as you take deep breaths. focus on how soft your pyjama pants are. shoot, sometimes i even let my mouth make a little whistle noise when i exhale and i think about that! if you find your mind wandering to random topics, just guide it gently back to your breathing.

start small! i started with 5 minute sessions before bed. if that’s too long for you, start smaller! you can increase the time as it gets easier, you find you wish you had more time, or you can continue doing 60 second sessions forever! there isn’t one correct way to meditate, especially for people who are neurodivergent. as long as you’re getting something positive out of the experience, you’re doing it right!

every session is different. every day has different events and emotions and every day my ADHD has the potential to effect me differently. some days i just can’t seem to sit still, and other days it’s all i want to do! the same goes for meditation. remember that some days it will be harder to meditate and some days it will be easier. be understanding with yourself! don’t beat yourself up if you struggle through a session or have to stop halfway through. again, it’s all about consistency. give yourself a pat on the back, have some water, and try again tomorrow!

be patient & kind to yourself!! this is really the most important tip and i cannot stress it enough. remember that because of ADHD, you are going to have trouble focusing and sitting still, but that’s okay! meditation should be something that you enjoy doing, it should make you feel good. don’t stress over not being able to “clear your mind” or “sit perfectly still”. just do what you can! you deserve happiness and peace of mind just as much as everyone else. positive reinforcement and consistency can make meditation an enjoyable and beneficial practice for everyone. even those of us with ADHD!

i’m by no means an expert in ADHD or meditation, these are just some things that have helped me create a steady & healthy meditation routine despite my struggle with ADHD.

i’d like to think that these tips work with other mental disorders, but i cannot speak to anything except my own experience with ADHD and anxiety. if you try out meditation using this list of tips, i’d love to hear about your experience!!

thanks for reading!! happy meditating!! 🌿

[dokoni-mo]

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Epilogue)

(A/N: ***warning very sappy an*** I just want to thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. Before writing this, I was in one of the worst head spaces of my entire life. I was in multiple...  bad, relationships before I came on tumblr, and had literally zero amounts of self-worth and respect in me. I thought I was actually meaningless and worthless, and this fic was one of the only hopes I had left in the world. If I posted this and didn’t have all the love from you guys I get, who knows what would have happened to me. And for that, I thank all of you. You guys literally saved me, and I am so honored to have each and every one of you along for the ride. I am so blessed to have people like yall in my life, and so privileged to have made friends like i have now along the way. I simply cannot thank you enough. I am very sad to see this series end, but happy that it has allowed me to start a new chapter in my life. So please, stick around. I promise I will live every day doing my best for each and every one of you. I love you 💕) 

WARNINGS: some cursing, otherwise none

Key: (F/N) = first name, (L/N) = last name

Word count: ~4500

Chapter One: [x]  || Chapter Two: [x]

Chapter Three: [x] || Chapter Four: [x]

Chapter Five: [x] || Chapter Five ½: [x] 

Chapter Six: [x] || Chapter Seven: [x]

Chapter Eight: [x]

~~~

The thing you hated the most about your new home was the damn birds. 

Deep down you were grateful for them, however, since they acted as your alarm clock. But, you would appreciate it if they could be more gentle about waking you up, rather than just them squawking outside your cottage every time the sun rose. 

However, you could deal with it. It was just one of the very few cons about your new home. 

The cons were far outweighed by the good. 

One of the many good things about your new home was that you got to spend every second of every day with him. 

Your love. 

Squinting open your eyes that morning, the first thing you felt was the absence of a large, heavy figure behind your back as you lay in your plush, warm bed, a wash of sunlight acting as another blanket upon its surface. This didn’t surprise you, however, since it was only on rare occasions that he would wake up before you and lie next to you as you continued to sleep. You loved those days, but often felt bad. 

This was because you weren't able to wake him up with breakfast. 

Today, you guessed, was not one of those days. 

Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you pushed yourself up to sit upon the bed, washing your face with invisible water as you let the sleep fall off of you. Opening your eyes fully, you turned your head to look out the window opposite of your bed. You were greeted with the same view as always: lush, green grass, a clear, blue sky, the morning sun, the trees surrounding your home, and a partial view of your self-grown garden. Smiling to yourself, you admired the familiar view as the remaining bits of sleep fell off of your shoulders, your face illuminated in the morning sunlight. As time passed, you began to dissipate into your thoughts, your hands rubbing your arms as you recalled how lucky you were to be here. 

Your conscious coming back to you, you turned your head to the corner of the room. Sure enough there it was: the giant, black meditation chamber you had to scramble together upon your arrival to this planet. It had undergone many repairs and upgrades throughout the years, it's exterior adorning many patches and stitches. 

You had asked him before if he wanted you to make it look more pretty. 

He said no.

He said he liked how it reflected the time the two of you spent together here. 

Your smile broadening for a second, you figured that he must still be asleep, since the doors to his chamber were closed. Deciding that it was the perfect time to take action, you pushed your sitting frame up to a standing position, stretching your arms as you made your way into the small kitchen that accompanied your home. 

Covering your mouth to hide a yawn, you rubbed your eyes as you bend over one of your cabinets, pulling out a few pans and setting them on the stove as you turned on the fire. Pulling out some ingredients, you decided that eggs and meat with vegetables would be best for him that day. 

That’ll start him off with good vitamins and such, you thought to yourself. 

Watching as your body went into autopilot to start making his breakfast, your eyes glazed over as you slipped into your deepest thoughts. 

Staring down at the food cooking in the pan before you, you were quietly and subtly hit with a truth. A truth you always knew, but never consciously thought about. 

Years ago, you made a promise you never said out loud to your love. 

To find it's source, you had to travel very far back into your memory. 

Many years ago, you and him had professed your love to one another (a small smile painted your lips as you thought of this). Instead of going back to Endor, he kept you as his mechanic, and eventually finished his TIE. After the craft was repaired, you didn’t have much else to do. You spent the days fiddling around with a few things, bored out of your mind when he wasn’t there. When he was there, however, your bond only strengthened and strengthened. The two of you would talk for hours, and you had never felt happier. 

That was jeopardized, however, when he came to you much more somber than normal. 

Noticing his mood, you asked him what was wrong. 

You couldn’t hide your shock when he told you he had a son. 

Should I apply for adoption papers? You had asked him. 

No. He said. It’s… complicated. 

No matter how complicated it was, you told him that you would stick by him no matter what. 

And you did. 

Through thick and thin. 

Even when things seemed the darkest. 

~~~

In every sense of everything ever, Lord Vader was ready to accept his fate and die right then. 

He had done what he thought to be impossible. He had created a bond with his son, and destroyed the man that had imprisoned him for many, many years. 

He was injured beyond repair.

There was no mistaking the wheeze in his respirator as his son had taken off his mask. 

Luke was so beautiful. 

His blonde hair and big, blue eyes reminded the dark lord so much of himself when he was a boy. It surprised him that he still held onto those memories after all these years. 

Lord Vader was very content with his son being the last thing he would ever see. He could feel his life slipping away by the second, but felt no fear. 

He was at peace. He was content. He was… 

No.

He wasn’t ready. 

There was still so much he wanted to do with that girl.

That girl who’s boots were clacking at a feverish pace down the hallway. 

That girl who sounded so scared calling out his name over and over. 

His blue eyes softening, Lord Vader made a decision. 

To fight. 

For her. 

Even still, he could feel consciousness slipping away from him. The lightning had done a number to his life support systems. Yet, Lord Vader still wasn’t afraid to die, for he knew that he wouldn’t. 

You were capable of fixing him.

In one more way than you already have. 

Upon your entrance, Lord Vader watched as his son turned his head to face your small frame, your chest heaving with big breaths and your forehead gleamed with sweat. Your eyes darted to and from Lord Vader and Luke, a look of fear and worry in your beautiful eyes. After a moment of standing in shock, you quickly assumed a kneeling position next to Luke, completely disregarding his existence. 

Lord Vader didn’t blame you in the slightest.

“M-my love! Wh-What in the galaxy-” you began to say, tears forming in your eyes as your face contorted into one of worry. 

He cut you off by taking your hand into his, holding it close to his heart as he gazed upon you. 

“Do not fret, my sweet,” he said to you, rubbing the back of your knuckles with his thumb, “I did what had to be done.” 

It took you a second to process what he was trying to tell you. He could see the gears turn in your head before your eyes widened then quickly softened. Breathing out a smile, you lifted up his hand and placed a gentle kiss upon the leather, reaching out your free hand to cup his cheek. 

His pale, scarred, bare cheek. 

A tear slipped down your face as you spoke, your voice soft. 

“This is…” you began to say, pausing to swallow the lump in your throat, “I-It took you long enough to show me your handsome face, dear…” 

For seemingly the first time in years, the faintest, tiniest smirk of a smile painted his features. 

“I had to make sure you would not run away, darling.” 

You breathed out a quick laugh before responding, leaning forward to press a soft hiss to his forehead then press your own to it's surface. 

“Never. I would never.” 

Lord Vader felt his heart swell as everything turned to black. 

~~~

A pang of fear had run through you as you felt his body go limp, but it quickly subsided as you flicked your eyes down to the buttons on his stomach. 

He was still alive. Relief surged through your veins as you let out a silent sigh.

You almost jumped out of your skin as the blonde-headed guy crouched next to you spoke. You had totally forgotten that he was there.

“I, umm… i-is he…?” he spoke as you shot your gaze to him. 

“No, he’s not. Just unconscious, but fading.” you spoke quickly, “Here, help me get his mask back on. We need to take him to a medical bed now. Help me get him up.” 

Following your order, the blonde picked up the pieces of your love’s mask and secured them back upon his head, his respirator sounding not all thatmuch better. Shifting your weight, the two of you hoisted the dark lord upon one of each of your shoulders, the pair of your grunting from his weight. 

Your muscles were screaming for a break after all the running you had done coupled with the weight-lifting, but you barely felt it. Nothing but pure adrenaline running through your veins, you were focused on only one thing: 

Saving your love’s life. 

Eventually, you and the blonde man were able to shuffle your lover into a small medical wing and place him upon the examination table. Hurriedly, you hot-wired on the medical droid in the room, and told it to assist you with tending to the unconscious sith lord. Obeying your command, the droid immediately got to work alongside you, the blonde simply watching dumbfounded. 

This caused you to purse your lips at him as  you fiddled with the buttons on your lover’s stomach.

“Are you gonna help or just stand there?” you asked him, your voice cross. 

He shot a wide-eyed look at you as a result of  your words, his adams-apple noticeably bobbing before he spoke. 

“What? I- Y-Yes, I’ll help.” 

With that, the blonde joined your flurry of equipment and button-pressing, following all the orders you and the droid barked at him without any complaint. After a long while of you cursing, shouting, almost crying, and the blonde encouraging you that you could do this, the droid beeping, the equipment buzzing, and the beeps of buttons, the sith’s respirator finally returned to it's normal pace and tone. Realizing this, all three of you paused and looked at each other as you listened to make sure your ears were not deceiving you. After a moment, you shot your gaze down to the buttons that adorned your love’s stomach. 

All of his vitals were normal. 

He was okay. 

Relief washing through you, you slumped over the sith’s body as you felt the adrenaline dissipate out of your bloodstream, the blonde backing up to the wall and sliding down it's surface into a seated position. 

The two of you held these positions for a long while as the droid finished cleaning some equipment before shutting down. Hearing the whirr of the droid powering off, the blonde looked up at you, licking his lips before talking. 

“I'm sorry ma’am but… who are you?” 

Your ears perking up at his voice, you picked up your head to look upon the blonde man, your lips slightly parted as your chest heaved for air. Realization setting in, you quickly became aware that you didn’t know who this kid was either. Or why he was with your love, at that. 

Looking at him a moment, you took in all of the man’s features, your eyes darting to scan his face. Oddly, it seemed very… familiar, to you. 

His nose…

His face shape… 

His lips… 

Then, the kicker. 

His eyes. 

You had seen those eyes before.

Those beautiful, sky blue eyes. 

You knew them better than you knew you own face, even if you had only seen them once before only a few minutes prior. 

They were eyes you would never forget. 

Your lips pressing into a small smile, your eyes softened at the young man before you, his eyes glinting slightly in confusion. 

“Well,” you said, “If you are who I think you are… You may have to start calling me mom.” 

~~~

You were rudely interrupted from your thoughts by the smell of vegetables becoming dangerously close to burning. 

Letting out a quiet oh shit, you quickly turned off the fire to the stove, stirring the vegetables so that they wouldn't burn. 

Your lips forming into a soft smile, you realized then why those memories played back for you that morning. 

From that day on, you made a promise to your love, one that you never even had to say to him. 

You vowed that for the rest of your days…

You would take care of him. 

You hoped that it could even begin to show him how much you loved him. 

Finishing up the rest of his meal, you pushed the food onto a plate, making sure that it looked appetizing. Placing a napkin under the plate and grabbing a fork and knife from the drawer, you balanced the plate, silverware, and a drink in your grasp as you walked back over to your shared bedroom. 

A small smile assuming itself upon your lips, you set the breakfast on your nightstand as you walked over to his meditation chamber. 

“Good morning my love,” you said as you knocked upon the metal of the glorified metal pod, pressing a few buttons on your home-made control panel to open it. 

Flicking your gaze up to the inside of the chamber, your lips fell from a smile to a neutral position as your eyes absorbed what you were seeing. 

Empty. 

The chamber was empty. 

There was no beloved sith lord within it. 

Your brow furrowed. You were terribly confused. A sense of worry bubbled deep down inside of you. 

What the hell? You thought to yourself. 

Leaning partially into the chamber, you scanned the inside as if he was somehow hiding from you. Returning to a normal standing position, you realized how dumb that was. He would never do that. But still, you didn’t really feel dumb for it. You were worried for him. 

Glancing over at his breakfast, you headed out of your room. Turning past the doorframe, you shuffled into the small living room of your cottage. 

“Vee?” you called out to the sith lord. Of course, nothing came in response. 

You thought about calling out his nickname again, but you decided against it. The house the two of you shared was small, so if he was there, you knew he would have heard you. 

You had designed the house to accomplish exactly that goal. 

After Luke had helped you save Vader’s life, you went with him to the rest of the rebel fleet. Although a lot of them looked at you with either fear or venom in their eyes, the ones you did talk to were surprisingly friendly. Leia, who you learned later on was Luke’s sister, was kind enough to give you a shuttle to take you off Endor with Vader. Of course, this was not without exception, and a lot of reasoning from Luke. You had to vow that neither you nor him would ever be seen in the public eye again. 

Done and done. You had said, I have a sneaking suspicion that we’re done with politics. 

With that, the two of you were sent off Endor. Finding a deserted planet to settle down wasn’t much of a challenge, since the Empire had left a lot of places in shambles. 

You still remembered the flight down to the planet which you were on now. 

Your home. 

How about that one, dear? You had asked. The map says it's called, erm… Naboo? Weird name. Have you heard of it before?

...Let’s find another location. He had said. 

Ugh, fine… you had said in response. 

Ah, memories. 

Upon landing, you had discovered a nice clearing of space that wasn’t too far from the wreckage of an old Star Destroyer. Being from a village who made their homes out of what was available, you were able to construct a permanent home for the pair of  you in a very short amount of time, even equipped with all the necessary appliances, a garden, and even a meditation chamber for him. It was perfect. And, much more comfortable than sleeping in the shuttle you arrived in. 

What do you think? You had asked him when the house was complete. 

He had took your hand in response, pulling you close in a tight embrace. 

Since you had designed the house, you were beginning to become very worried that you had gained no response from your love as you called his name. You had no idea where he could have gone. 

Your eyes scanning the room for any signs of life, you felt a pang of aha run through you as your eyes pointed out a small detail. 

The doors in your living room that led to the garden were slightly ajar. 

That was certainly the next place to look. 

Picking up your feet, you slowly made your way over to the doors, pushing them open just enough for you to slip your body through. 

Sure enough, there he was. 

The love of your life. 

He stood immediately in front of the fence that lined the garden of your house, his cape fluttering in the breeze of the morning. He had assumed no special stance, but faced outwards towards the horizon of your house’s view, his long cape over his shoulders. Instead of the black it used to be, the long cloth was now a mid-toned blue, the ends of which were decorated in a gold pattern.

You had made the new cape as a celebratory gift for him long ago. Upon seeing Luke’s cybernetic hand, you were inspired. You hadn’t known the technology that went into his hand was available, but cherished that it was. Even though his nerves were severed, Luke was still able to feel touch. 

You wanted the same for Vader. 

The wreckage of the Star Destroyer on this planet gave you the necessary parts to create that kind of prosthetic for Vader. Over the course of many months of trial and error, you were finally able to engineer a hand for Vader that would allow him to feel again. 

That was a very emotional day to say the absolute least. 

A few days later, to celebrate, you made the new, blue cape for him. 

Your old one was really raggedy, you had said, so I made you this one. You can tell me if you don’t like it. I won’t be offended.

My dear, he responded to you, anything you make for me, I will adorn with pride. 

A smile came upon your lips as you flashed that memory in your mind. 

“Vee.” You called out to the sith lord, leaning your body again the doorframe. Hearing your voice, your love turned to face you, his mask pointing down to greet your smiling face. 

“(F/N).” he rumbled out in response, “Good morning, my love.” 

With that, he held out his large hand to you, extending it so that you could put your own in it’s palm. Your smile became slightly bigger as you took note of how he always extended his “feeling” hand to you. Stepping forward, you placed your hand into his, assuming your spot by his side as your fingers intertwined. 

“I was looking for you,” you said as you glanced up at him before gazing out upon the horizon of your new home planet, “I made your breakfast. It’s getting cold, but I can put it away if you’re not hungry.” 

“I apologize for making you worry, my joy,” he said in response, rubbing the back of your knuckles with his thumb as he joined you in looking at the view, “I simply wished to admire the view.”

You quickly shot a smile up at him as you gazed out beyond your garden, your hair blowing in the breeze of the morning as you listened to the sound of the birds and his respirator. 

“It's okay,” you said, “I know you wouldn’t ever run away from me.” 

Vader stole a glance at you as he processed your words. Feeling his gaze on you, you shot a playful smile back up at him. Returning your gaze to the horizon, you leaned your head against his armored shoulder, making him look out to the horizon once more as well. 

A long moment of silence fell over the pair of you as you breathed in time with him, a sense of peace and tranquility washing over you as you felt the muscles on his body flex and relax under his layers of leather. 

Forgetting all about the meal you had prepared for him, you were the one to break the silence.

“Do you… Do you ever miss it, Vee?” 

It took him a moment to respond. 

“Miss what, my dear?” 

Your gaze fell to his fingers intertwined with yours as you spoke. 

“The Empire… and the Super Star Destroyer. Your TIE… do you ever miss it?” 

Another one of his trademark pauses from him. Glancing up at him, you noticed how his mask was pointed out to seemingly nowhere, or perhaps a memory from long ago. 

“Yes.” he responded. 

“Really?” you breathed out, a hint of a chuckle in your tone, “Why?” 

Another pause. You had begun to think he wouldn’t answer before he finally responded. 

“Because… It was there that our love came to be.” he said, “And now we can never return.” 

You breathed out another smile at his answer, nuzzling your head against his shoulder affectionately. 

“Funny… That’s why I miss it too.” 

Squeezing your hand tighter, Vader continued to look out upon the surface of the planet, committing every detail to this memory. 

You again broke the silence that came over the pair of you. 

“I want you to try out a prototype I have of your other hand today,” you said, your voice a bit softer than normal, “It looks promising… but I want to make sure it’s comfortable for you first.” 

“I am sure that it will be excellent,” Vader responded, shifting his gaze to you, “I have full faith in your abilities, mechanic.” 

Stifling out a chuckle, you looked up at your love with a smile, your free hand pressed to your forehead in a joking salute. 

“I appreciate the compliment, my Lord.” 

Gazing at you a moment longer, Lord Vader returned his gaze to the view, you following suit as another pause loomed over you and your love. 

You had not completely forgotten about his breakfast as he broke the silence. 

“(F/N)... how do you think Luke is doing? And… and Leia?” 

You looked up at him briefly in surprise. It wasn’t often he talked about his children, and even less often about his past. You knew it pained him to do so, but always received his softness with open arms. 

You loved him. And every piece of baggage that came with him. 

“I’m sure they’re both fine, dear,” you responded, snuggling yourself closer to him for support, “If they needed us, they would come to us… But still, they’re both very strong. And independent. I’m sure they’re just fine out there.” 

Another pause from him. You could almost hear the gears turn in his armored head. 

“I suppose you are right.” was all he said in response. 

Ordinarily, you wold respond in some sort of quip or joke to something like this. However, you knew better than to play shits-and-giggles in one of these rare times of his softness. You decided to give a kiss to the back of his hand instead, your lips warm and in a soft smile. 

“Come on, how about we go inside?” you offered, suddenly remembering his meal, “I’ll heat up your breakfast again and we can relax together for a little while. How does that sound?” 

Without taking his gaze off the horizon, your love responded to you. 

“Nothing in this galaxy,” he said, “sounds more enjoyable, my darling.” 

Your eyes twinkling in adoration and your lips curving into a brighter smile, you rested your head upon his armored shoulder again, hugging his strong, muscular arm close to you.

In that moment, the two of you were absolutely, totally, positively inseparable. 

“I love you, Vee.” you whispered out, your heart swelling for the sith lord at your side. 

And you were. 

Not one bone in your body, not one atom didn’t love that man. 

It took him a second to say anything in response, but you didn’t mind at all. 

“...Anakin.” 

Looking up at him, you had thought you had misheard him. You recognized what he had said was a name, but you didn’t know of anyone by it. Nor were you aware that he knew anyone by that name. 

You were perplexed. 

“What, love?” you asked, beckoning him to clarify. 

Without a word, Vader took his gaze off of the horizon, settling it on your face instead. Never in his life had he seen someone as breathtakingly gorgeous as you. He relished in the fact that he knew your beauty was, in fact, not skin-deep. 

To him, you were perfect in every way. 

To him, you were his savior. 

To him, you were his treasure. 

And as he took your face into his hands oh so gently, he gazed upon you and held you with every ounce of love he had for you in his body. Watching you as you smiled up at him with that hint of confusion still in your eyes, he knew. 

He would never again feel pain. 

He would never again be scared. 

He would never again be a slave. 

He would never again fight a war. 

He would never again hate. 

He would never again feel anger. 

He, instead, would only spend the rest of his days… 

In pure, absolute love…

With you. 

“That was… That is my real name, darling.” he continued, “Anakin... Skywalker.” 

You could have sworn you felt the ground beneath you fade away as he finished. Your heart swelling inside your chest, all you could do was breathe out smile after smile as you gazed up at him, your hands planted upon the broad expanse of his chest. 

You knew then how in love the two of you were. 

You knew then you and him would never be apart ever again. 

This was no machine standing before you; you knew that for a long time. 

But now solidified it. 

The man you had come to love and cherish with every fiber of your being… 

Was exactly that. 

A man. 

Your voice was barely above a whisper as your reached up to his neck, gently pulling his head down so that you could rest your forehead upon his as you closed your eyes. 

“I love you, Anakin Skywalker.” you breathed. 

“And I love you, (F/N) (L/N). More than you will ever know.” 

~~~

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia , @dartheldur , @finest-trashbag , @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii , @elongatedmusk-rat , @shads121 , @muffinbeliever , @sakuramadae , @padme-parker , @khapikat222 , @the-official-memester , @rens-angel , @obiwankenobiness , @yvette1703 , @missmannequin , @breakfastpizzagalaxy , @clearnostolgia , @scarletsinsandsnowwithetragedies​

[kienava]

~~i stayed up til 4 am and wrote beauyasha and i regret nothing~~

When the Nein return to the tower, Beau finally has a chance to read Yasha's poem.

Awkward conversation ensues in a room full of flowers.

_______

how do i wake my spirit cold? [AO3 link]

It had taken Beau a solid three reads to convince herself that this poem was actually real, not just something that her cold-snapped brain had imagined for a fleeting sense of warmth. She’d gone from staring at the words blankly to reading slowly, scrutinizing the angles of each letter, and on her seventh read she’d discovered that it was impossible to tear her eyes off the piece of parchment in her hands. This was now the eighteenth time in a row she’d scanned over these four lines, though she’d long since memorized their contents. At this point, she was less reading a poem and more gazing at a painting. Its beautiful simplicity hit all at once, like a thin blade between the ribs.

Many months ago, Beau might have guessed that Yasha’s handwriting would resemble her intimidating appearance, or maybe even her fighting style: sharp and strong, rough strokes and firm lines. Now, the slight, slanted script on the page came as no surprise, not when Beau had all but reached out and touched the soft edges hidden under layers of rage and anguish - and shawls. Yasha was big on shawls.

Eventually, Beau knew, she would have to put this piece of paper down and stop reading, but her hands and eyes had yet to consider that idea for themselves.

Her breath stayed steady despite her sparking nerves, years of practice kicking in to steady her. After she folded that piece of parchment up, what could she possibly do? Sleep? Not a gods-damned chance. The tower was safe and still, much unlike the thumping in her chest. As skilled as she’d become at controlling her lungs and diaphragm, the ability to keep her heart calm eluded her.

She knew it was a symptom of something that she’d avoided addressing for as long as possible, a creature that would longer allow itself to be pushed off and locked up. Beau had done her best to drown it alive when she’d learned why Yasha pressed her own heart between the pages of a book to desiccate along with torn petals and broken thorns. Loving dead flowers left little room to tend a new garden.

For all Beau’s attempts to do otherwise, she kept coming back to this, perennially doomed to weather the most apocalyptic storms.

In an effort to inspire some new consideration besides poetry, Beau let the paper flutter onto her desk and took to the fighting post. She’d been curious to see how adaptable the tower’s contents really were, and she’d asked Caleb for a variety of weighted staves to train with in this rendition. She grabbed the heaviest one from its mount on the wall. Maybe if she exhausted herself by whaling on the fighting post, she’d be able to fall asleep sometime in the next several hours.

As soon as she started swinging, it was clear that her plan would be fruitless. Her muscles could go on autopilot and run through routines she knew deep in her bones, and she’d built up too much stamina fighting gnolls and ghosts and undead sea monsters to tire herself to the point of genuine exhaustion.

Despite all of her mediation training, she couldn’t shut her brain off. She’d been in research mode for weeks now, mind racing constantly to piece together theories that somehow sounded less and less wild the more their group trekked on. Even while sparring with this helpless post, she exerted more effort willing herself not to sit back down at her desk and scour between the grains of the paper Yasha had given her for clarity and truth.

She made a last-ditch effort at meditating, sitting in the middle of the room with her legs crossed, counting her inhales and exhales. It was the first technique Dairon had taught her, the simplest form of breathwork. The goal was not to control or influence the breath, but to build awareness of one’s natural pace without judgment. At the time, Beau laughed at the possibility that she could go a second without judging (herself or others). But she'd changed so much since then.

She felt herself smile, recalling a conversation from what felt like ages ago.

Thank you for not judging me, Beau.

Have you seen me? Who am I to fucking judge?

I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you a lot.

Was that it? Was that the moment that the harmless flirting had developed its own sense of gravity? That Beau had suddenly found herself tongue-tied during their most superficial conversations, yet secretly hoping for even the briefest moment alone together?

Without intention, her breath had started to line up with the endearingly crooked meter of the poem repeating infinitely in her mind. She inhaled through one line, then emptied her lungs by the end of the next.

Each time she ran through that short stanza again, more questions frayed out like a string splitting endlessly. None of the answers she sought could be found in the library. She’d only need to go one floor down, not two.

All distractions exhausted, Beau considered knocking on someone else’s door instead of seeking the one stamped with lilacs, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to do so. Veth and Caleb would be together, huddled in front of a cozy fire and having one of those intense conversations meant only for them. Caduceus usually went to sleep early anyway, and he’d eaten a whopping dinner. No way he’d still be up. Fjord had taken up his own meditation practice, and far be it from Beau to interrupt that. Jester - well, that was just a bad idea. If Beau mentioned the poem (and there was very little chance she’d be able to talk about anything else), Jester might just drag her down to Yasha’s room and throw her through right the door.

If Yasha could be brave, so could Beau. In fights, that was the very thing that pushed her to go as hard as she did. She knew that Yasha would be there to pull her out of a giant lobster claw if her risks didn’t pay off. They had each other's backs, always.

Would that still be the case when neither of them held a weapon in their hands?

Only one way to find out.

Beau opened and closed her own door as quietly as possible. Jester had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Beau’s interactions with Yasha, and Beau really didn’t want to explain anything when she wasn’t even entirely sure what was going on herself. She whispered the command word to the lift and sank slowly to the next floor down. She was careful to keep her knock quiet, though it probably wouldn’t wake Caduceus. No promises that Jester wouldn’t somehow hear it, no matter how thick Caleb claimed the walls were.

There was a long beat before Beau heard footsteps. Her stomach flipped - had she woken Yasha up? Normally she relied on some burst of brash confidence to start a conversation, and it had already taken her nearly an hour to build up the courage to step into the hallway and onto the lift. This was too different from the casual check-ins and mid-battle flirting that had happened more often in recent weeks, and Beau forgot every normal greeting she knew when the lilac-emblazoned door swung open.

She only had one thought: “Yasha.”

“Goodnight, Beau,” Yasha said. Quickly, she added, “Not goodnight like ‘goodbye, you should leave.’ Goodnight as in good morning. Like a greeting, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah. Goodnight, I guess,” Beau replied with a little wave. This was going about as badly as possible. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no. I was just - well, I cannot read Zemnian, but those books Caleb gave us have very nice covers.”

“Yeah, they’re cool,” Beau said. She had an opening here. Might as well take it. “Speaking of reading...”

Yasha raised her eyebrows.

Beau tried to swallow the dryness in her mouth. It didn’t work. “I checked out your poem.”

“Oh, you did?” Yasha asked.

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe a little.”

Beau wasn’t sure where to go with that, and all she could come up with was a stilted laugh.

Yasha joined in with her own quiet chuckle. The way she bit her lip, lost in thought, made it clear that she was just as much at a loss for words.

This was a bad idea. Beau hadn’t been thinking straight, obviously, when she’d come down here with a million questions and no plan for how to ask them.

“Okay,” Beau said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I guess I’m gonna--”

“Do you want to come in?”

Beau blinked. “What? I mean, sure. Yeah.”

Yasha stepped back from the door to open it wider, and Beau stepped inside the flower-laden room for the first time since Caleb’s magical mansion tour.

The door settled shut behind them, and they were left standing in the middle of the bright, colorful blossoms.

“So,” Yasha started. She didn’t go on.

“Nice plants,” Beau commented, nearly smacking herself across the face for it.

Fortunately, Yasha smiled at that. “Caleb really thought of everything for this place.”

Beau’s mind flashed to the mirror mounted above her bed, and for the first time in many years she had to remind herself to breathe. She was more than getting ahead of herself.

“Anyway,” Yasha said, drawing out the end of the word a little more than normal, “what brings you down to the fifth floor?”

“Ah, just got lost on my way to the kitchen, thought I’d swing by,” Beau tried.

Every time Yasha let out even a small laugh, Beau counted it as a win.

The most concrete question burning in Beau’s skull was rooted in something ugly and frightened. She asked it anyway. “So did Jester put you up to that?”

“It was her idea, yes,” Yasha admitted.

“Oh,” Beau said, not quite catching her voice from cracking.

“I shouldn’t have said that. She only helped because I asked.”

“So it was your idea?”

“Not quite. I don’t think. Not the poem thing, specifically. I told her I wanted to...do something, for you, and that is what she suggested.”

Beau fought against the urge to convince herself that those words could mean anything other than what she wanted to hear. She’d been jumping through flaming mental hoops for weeks, maybe months, trying to talk herself out of this. And then Yasha had the pleasant audacity to write her a poem.

“No one’s ever done that before. For me,” Beau reiterated. She held her hands up. “Hey, I’m no expert, but I thought it was dope.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yasha dismissed.

“No, I did.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

Yasha busied herself by stroking the petal of a nearby flower with her thumb, a small smile creeping in.

“Why’d you write it?” Beau asked. 

Yasha’s fingers stilled. Her gaze stayed fixed on the flower in her hand, and her slight smile grew.

“Do you have a favorite flower, Beau?”

There was the answer Beau wanted to give, and then there was the truth. In the dense quiet, the latter won out. “Not really. Kinda wish I did. Do you?”

“I think...” Yasha gently plucked the flower from its stem. “I think they are all my favorite.”

“Really?”

Yasha nodded, cradling the flower in her palm.

It was, quite possibly, the happiest Beau had ever seen her. She suddenly wished that she knew the name of this plant, of every plant in the room. If something could bring Yasha such tranquil joy, it was worth knowing. 

“The ones in this room are from all over. I’ve never even heard of some of them,” Yasha said.

“Caleb probably read about a thousand botany books just for this.”

“Probably,” Yasha laughed.

“Come on. You’ve gotta have a favorite,” Beau pushed, in the back of her mind hoping that she could use the information for future reference.

Yasha shook her head. “My book...I was keeping it for Zuala at first, but I think I am also keeping it for myself now. I want to remember the places that I’ve been and the things that happened there. Because those things have brought me here, and I am very happy about that, even if some of what happened was...not so happy. I would not be here, with all of you, without every single one of those flowers.” 

She held her hand out, presenting the plucked flower. Beau stared at the five long, carefree, white petals, tinged with a sunshiny yellow at the tips. Slowly, she reached out and was surprised to find the petals were rich and soft like velvet. She couldn’t recall ever seeing it before - maybe it was from Xhorhas.

“And,” Yasha met Beau’s eyes, “finding new favorite flowers to add to my book does not mean I forget the old ones.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Beau agreed.

“This one reminds me a lot of you, actually,” Yasha said, almost whispering to herself. 

Beau felt her heart skip. She’d never been given a poem before, and she’d certainly been compared to something so delicate and precious. She wracked her brain for something witty to say, but she’d never been very good at that around Yasha. “It does?” she choked out.

“It grows in the desert,” Yasha explained. “It's very stubborn and strong. We called it Sunsbane. Even with very little water, it survives the hottest days. The buds stay closed for many years, but the plant stays strong. The roots grow deeper than you’d ever guess just from looking at it above the surface. It can take a long time, but when the nights get cool enough, the flowers finally bloom.” She paused, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “You probably didn’t come here to hear so much about plants, though.”

Beau could very well have been in the desert herself at the moment - her mouth went dry again, and she felt like it was about a thousand degrees in that room.

Untrusting of her own ability to form words after that, she lifted the flower from Yasha’s hand, then reached up and tucked its short stem back where Yasha had fixed her hair.

“Hey,” Beau managed.

“Mhm?”

“You can tell me about plants anytime, alright?”

“Alright,” Yasha returned. “Okay.”

Beau retreated a step, realizing how close they’d been standing. “White’s kinda more your color, though. Plus, the yellow really...your eyes, it - works. Looks nice. Um, goodnight.”

There was a strange look on Yasha’s face, like she was thinking too hard.

“What?” Beau risked asking.

“Just that...I didn’t answer your question yet. About the poem.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s cool, honestly--”

“Beau.” Yasha said her name so softly that Beau had no choice but to stop protesting.

Yasha took the flower from behind her ear and clutched it to her chest. “You should know that I like this flower very much.”

So much of Beau’s old self - the person who’d just tried to leave again - wanted to bolt for the door, but her new self locked down and stood her ground. Inhale, exhale. “I think it likes you, too,” she said weakly.

Yasha waved her hand, still holding onto the flower. “Jester said some things, and I - well, I don’t know. I didn’t think I should hear them from someone else in case they weren’t true or--”

“They are,” Beau jumped in. “I don’t know what she said, exactly, but I can guess.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like I tried not to for a while. And then that became more impossible than it already was. Just like Sunsbane, I guess. Deep roots, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Yasha said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Not that I - I wasn’t expecting anything. You’ve surprised me in a lot of ways, is all.”

Beau couldn’t handle the guilt on Yasha’s face. It wasn’t her fault, everything that had happened to her, to them. Beau would’ve waited a thousand days in the desert if it meant letting Yasha heal and find herself.

The gap between them had shrunk again, somehow, but it was more unbearable than ever. It felt like every time they got closer by half, always lessening the space but never quite meeting. But Beau was very good at breaking things, and, for once, she could break something for good. Her palm met Yasha’s cheek, fingertips curling around a small braid hanging loosely.

“You said those flowers are pretty damn patient, right?” Beau said.

Yasha nodded almost imperceptibly, like she was afraid Beau’s hand would pull back.

“Then I think you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Still.”

“Well,” with much less confidence than she’d hoped for, Beau asked, “you gonna kiss me or what?”

Yasha’s eyes closed for a moment, her expression neutral save for the slight crease between her brows and the subtle part of her lips. When her eyes opened again, her gaze was angled down slightly, plotting a trajectory that Beau had hardly dared to dream of.

“You’re sure?” Yasha said softly.

Beau’s answer was no more than a breath of a laugh.

Yasha went on. “I just want to make sure that you are sure. I’m very sure, at this point, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be--”

Beau cut her off as gently as possible.

For a moment, Beau’s mind went blissfully blank.

Then it hit her. She was kissing Yasha.

It started soft - not tentative, but quiet.

And then, miracle of miracles, Yasha was kissing her back, and she was much less patient. She was lightning and thunder striking at once, a storm raw and deafening in its power. Beau wondered when her knees would give out under the sheer weight of it - until solid arms circled around her waist and pulled her in.

Desperate to hold onto something, Beau’s fingers wound into Yasha’s hair. Her other hand was trapped just below Yasha’s collarbone, grasping tighter until blunt nails scraped past a cloth edge and found skin.

Maybe Beau did have a favorite flower, after all.

***

[rogue-durin-16]

THE KEEPER (Part I/II)

Summary: When a mysterious person threatens the heir's life, the service of a personal guard is required to keep him safe until the foe is found. Fíli, who doesn't take the matter very seriously, only sees it as an chance to spend more time with certain knight.

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: a little angst, probably some typos

A/N: am I deliberately ignoring the canonical end of The Hobbit? Maybe so. PSA my phone died and i just got a new one; I'm still getting used to typing with it, that's why I haven't updated in more than a week. It's also why you'll probably find typos here, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless <3.

Part II

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I sighed at the music that echoed through the pillared halls of Erebor and managed to sneak into my room. Staying isolated while the whole kingdom was partying made my immature side, the one who would run down to the celebration in the blink of an eye, come to the surface, burying my common sense in its way.

"Must I tie you down to the lamppost?" Luckily, I had the most efficient keeper in the entire Royal Guard to remind me what I could and couldn't do.

"Would it kill you to relax?" I teased, though I had gotten her memo and was already moving away from my door.

"Probably." She replied, sparing me a quick glance with raised eyebrows. "Likely, it would kill you too." I rolled my eyes at her. "That's rather the point."

As a new idea crossed my mind, a smile flashed across my face "I'll risk it." I said, moving to stand in front of her, and held out a hand. "Dance with me?"

"No?" her tone expressed perfectly her incredulity at my words.

"Y/n I'm so bored, please, indulge me." her eyes opened widely, throwing daggers at me as I removed her sword and started to tug her towards me. "No one will attempt to kill me here."

"We don't know that." she retorted, though she didn't stop me from placing one hand on her waist and the other up in the air holding hers.

"Yes we do." I hummed, starting to sway at the rhythm of the music, quieted down due to the distance between us and the great halls. "We're in my chambers."

"will you remind me why aren't you at the party?" she inquired intently.

"Because of Thorin's paranoia?" I feigned innocence as I pretended to doubt the answer.

"Wrong." I pouted and she shook her head. "Someone sent you a death threat." I huffed, pulling away from her to spin her around. "You should take it seriously." I dramatically groaned, pulling her back to me. "Fíli." I couldn't help but grin.

It took me quite a while —almost a year— to convince her to call me by my name and not by my title.

"There is nothing to worry about," I stated, earning a tired sigh from her. We had been having that same back and forth for a week —it had started as soon as she had been assigned that task, in which I might have had a hand. "Because you are here to protect me."

"Something I can't quite do if I'm dancing."

"I said I'll risk it" i repeated with raised eyebrows.

It was then that she finally started to relax in my arms, not before letting out a sigh of defeat accompanied by an eyeroll though. Her beautiful eyes drifted off me to get lost somewhere at my left; took that opportunity to let my poor façade down and stared at her mesmerized as if she was the Arkenstone.

It's not as if I didn't make it quite obvious that I fancied her —actually, that was an understatement— but often my feelings were accompanied by a joking tone to spare my heart from Y/n's genuine reply.

A strong knock made us jump away from each other and rush to get our respective weapons. "Fíli?" My shoulders relaxed when Nori's voice reached us, but just as I stepped to open the door, Y/n tugged my arm to stand behind her. "Calm down, will you?" The dwarf requested, offended at Y/n's hostility whilst letting him pass.

"I tried telling her, but she won't listen." Y/n huffed and I winked at her. "What is it?"

"Thorin wants to move you to another room until this is sorted out." My eyes widened at his words. Now the whole matter was starting to look like a tempest in a teacup. "Dwalin offered to exchange chambers with you."

"You're all exaggerating." Y/n joined Nori in his task of picking up the necessary. "This is ridiculous!" Both of them were now running around the room, completely ignoring me. "I can defend myself!" Y/n, now at the doorframe, motioned me to follow her out of the room. "I refuse to leave my room just because a coward sent—"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Force wasn't necessary." I grumbled, throwing myself over my back to the king sized bed. It wasn't as comfortable as mine.

"In fact," she gave me an intent look, taking off her light armor and mesh, and throwing them over a stone bench. "it was."

I propped myself up with my forearms, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I stared at Y/n. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to sleep?" She replied, leaving her sword as close to her as possible, in case she had to reach for it.

"In that chair?"

"Yes?" Now she was the one who frowned confused. "Where else?" With eyebrows raised, I motioned at the large, empty space on the bed. "No?"

"There's enough room left for you and your sword." She snorted as if I was joking —which I partially was but not entirely. "We're both grownups are we not?" Her eyes pierced through me giving me that look. "It wouldn't be the first time that we sleep together anyway."

"We are not to repeat that." She stated.

"Y/n? Y/n." I kicked her leg through my blanket and hers, making her gasp and consecutively turn to meet me with an annoyed gaze. "Don't give me that look."

"You just kicked me." She hissed in the same quiet tone I was speaking.

"Because you're shivering."

She completely spun around so now we were face to face. "That's not a valid reason to kick me."

"I was trying to get your attention." Before she could complain again, I rushed the words out of my mouth. "Sleep with me." She slightly scooted away, surely taken aback by my suggestion. "I'm freezing too." I added, which wasn't a lie, just an exaggeration.

Before I knew it, we were laying together with both blankets over us, our legs interlaced, and our faces way too close.

"this is the most uncomfortable position we could have chosen, is it not?" I laughed, refusing to let my cheeks redden.

She laughed too, in the same way I had. "Any suggestions?"

"maybe..." I started guiding her, searching for another posture. "Maybe... Like this? or-"

I was cut off by her quiet laughter, now genuine and contagious, as she had ended up with her torso over mine. "I don't think this is better." She caged me so she could prop herself and move; and she propped herself, but didn't move.

The muffled chuckles had died the moment our gazes met. Both of us parted our lips in an attempt to say something, but none spoke.

With our eyes locked, my hands carefully traveled up her thighs whilst one of hers hesitantly caressed my cheek.

As if we had silently agreed on it, we both leaned into each other and let our lips share a ghostlike kiss that left me yearning for more. It was the reason why I unconsciously lifted myself, trying to capture Y/n's lips when she pulled away.

I snapped out of it when my forehead met hers and her hands rested on my chest. It was the strangest sensation; seeing the regret in her orbs at the same time as I felt her body refraining itself from returning to me.

"... would it be so bad?"

Y/n opened her mouth like a fish out of water. "It would be worse. I thought I made clear that this" she finally spoke, motioning between me and her "cannot happen."

"Well, this time we're not sleeping in the woods." I reasoned, deliberately ignoring the pang in my chest. "So there is no reason for it to happen again. Now" I patted the matress. "Sleep with me."

After a moment of meditation, she gave in and lay down, throwing the soft furs over her.

Silence.

"This is uncomfortable." She spoke, both of our bodies stiff and our eyes on the ceiling.

"It is."

Silence.

"Okay, take the bed." I finally said, attempting to get off it and move to the chair, just to be tugged back by her hands.

"Don't you dare." Before I could argue, she scooted closer and I had to force myself to relax when she laid her head on my chest because I could make it even more uncomfortable if I didn't do so. "No kissing this time." She teased.

"Yes ma'am." I replied with a chuckle, wrapping my arms around her.

It didn't take long for either of us to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

I woke up to Fíli and Kíli's hushed voices, and I instantly jolted up, entering a kind of alert mode that only the two brothers were able to get me into.

"What are you doing?" Kíli's eyes went from his brother to me, and back to his brother. "What is it?" Instead of giving me a reply, the younger prince nodded at the blond one and exited the room. "What on Durin's beard was that?" I inquired, suspicious.

"I was telling him where I was going." Replied, sheathing his blade.

"You are not going anywhere."

"I am going out."

"No you're not." I commanded, already dreading it would be in vain.

"To Dale." He was speaking so casually, as if he wasn't about to disobey direct orders from our king and to get me in trouble in the process.

"Fíli."

"I need fresh air!" His voice became slightly louder in desperation.

"Go to the damn balcony!" I replied, mirroring his tone as I threw the furs off me.

"I'm going out."

"Well, I'm staying here." I firmly stated, not willing to give in just yet.

"Then I'm going out alone." And with that, he left. "Until this afternoon!"

"What even-" after going through a moment of shock, I got up and put on my boots, only being able to grab my sword and belt before rushing out of the room.

"Oh so you are coming?" He teased, literally strutting along the hallway, not bothering on slowing down the pace for me to be able to buckle my belt and sword around my waist without struggling.

"You're impossible." I yanked his arm to stop his walking.

With my attention on the belt I didn't notice how close he had gotten, so when his hands appeared in front of my eyes, pulling away mine, I had to stop myself from gasping. "You have always loved challenges." He pointed out, taking care of securing the belt around me.

"Not when I have to keep the challenge safe." He pulled at the leather clothing to make sure it was okay, and then held my hand to prompt me to resume the walk. "I don't even have my armor on."

"You won't need it." He assured me, not allowing me to go back before sneaking us out of the mountain.

This would surely end terribly.

[raja-myna]

yesterday is long since lost

FINALLY got this thing done!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070434

Anakin – and he is Anakin, even if that name feels a little bit like putting on a shirt he had thought he had outgrown – knows that he’s messing up. When he first realized what had happened, that he really had come back, he had been grateful that his body had collapsed under the weight of his future memories, leaving his subconscious mind to slowly make the connections and let him wake up again. He had thought he was prepared for it, when he shook off the last of the sleepy haze. The phrase ‘rude awakening’ turned out to fit almost too well.

The two weeks that it had taken for his body and mind to acclimatize to each other proves itself to be so far from enough. He’s jittery, uncomfortable in his own body (and it’s his body again, more flesh than metal, inescapable marks of betrayal (but whose was it really? Not Obi-Wan’s, he knows now, and that thought cuts impossibly deeper than ever) erased) with its lack of aches and pains, and reflexes that no longer match flesh limbs.

Rex knows something is up, but military discipline keeps him from asking, at least for now. Ahsoka knows something’s up, but she’s still too relieved that he’s okay (and hah, if only she knew) to push.

He thanks the Force that Obi-Wan isn’t here, because even though they’d made some sort of peace at Anakin’s funeral pyre and after that, he doesn’t know how he would react to seeing his former Master with them both alive again. Obi-Wan also likely wouldn’t hesitate to call him out on his poodoo. Oh, he’d be diplomatic, and he likely wouldn’t push if Anakin reacted badly, but Anakin still isn’t sure he could take that.

When they had been dead there hadn’t been much to do but make peace. Now, alive and with the Clone Wars barely halfway through, Anakin is realizing that a lot of their peace had come from the fact that nothing they could have done would have affected anything in the end. That calm understanding that had come with being one with the Force is gone as well, and Anakin’s love for and rage at his old Master are dueling for prominence. His guilt wants to land on the side of his love, but his anger has always run hot. He fears seeing Obi-Wan, for he truly cannot tell whether he’ll be angry, snappish and rude, or if he’ll want to fall to his knees and cry.

There’s enough of Anakin wanting to cry as it is.

It had been hard, seeing Ahsoka, seeing Rex when he first woke up and truly getting hit with how he had failed them. But they had been the lucky ones, in that awful future. They had gotten away.

Seeing Coric in the medbay, seeing Kix… that had been worse. Kix had been gone before Anakin Fell and Order 66 was executed, they hadn’t even found a body. Coric had died two years later, two years of living not unlike a battle droid covered in flesh, with only the barest glimpses of the man he really was underneath the weight of orders and grief he wasn’t allowed to understand.

Grief that none of the clones were allowed to understand.

(Vader had seen Bly. He had seen Shocker. He had seen Cody.)

(He had seen all those who had eaten their blasters as the chips died, never actually intended to survive past usage – just like the clones themselves.)

Vader hadn’t cared, or at least tried to tell himself that he didn’t. Anakin does care. And Force, but it hurts.

The first day Anakin just avoids everyone, using Kix’s orders of rest as an excuse. Facing everyone is… something no amount of preparation could help him with, a punch to the gut and a knock to the head that leaves him reeling. The effort it takes to not simply flee for his quarters actually leaves him winded when he finally reaches the corridor, enters the room, closes the door behind himself and locks himself in.

There’s something wrong with him. Anakin is not reacting the way he should – the way he ought to, having seen so many ghosts in so short a time. His mind is a mess.

Meditation does not come easy.

He forces himself into it, in an attempt to reconcile the different parts of himself. He is Anakin, jedi general, student, teacher, husband, lover, twenty years old and so arrogant. He is Vader, sith apprentice, failure, world-weary, beaten down, a monster shackled to a madman… a father, in the end.

He is Ani, slave boy, who cares so much and loves so deeply but doesn’t know how to handle it, never learned how to grow it, only hoard.

(If you love something, let it go.)

(He let Luke go, in the end. Let his son choose his own path and…)

I am a jedi, like my father before me.

Sleep doesn’t come at all.

Vader has spent literal decades hating his past, weak self, disgusted with the man who couldn’t even save the single most important person left in his life, who had lost everyone else along the line. Past-(present-?)Anakin is horrified by what he became, by what his future self allowed himself to be twisted into. Ani doesn’t understand, doesn’t want to understand how it could have even happened.

It’s a good thing self-hatred is nothing new to him, he thinks, because that is the common point that finally allows him to reconcile the different facets of himself.

That’s kind of sad.

It’s also awfully appropriate, in a twisted sense.

 The second day he tries to play at normalcy and heads to the bridge. Ahsoka tracks him down when he’s alone during a quiet moment and hugs him until he stops trying to make her let go. Her relief broadcasts in the Force and their bond alike. Anakin… lets himself hold her, and heal, just a bit. Then Kix finds them and sends him back to bed. It’s enough to make Ahsoka laugh and think everything’s back to normal. Anakin lets her believe it.

He heads back to his bunk, and since Kix is a suspicious one, wise to the ways of his jedi, Anakin has company the entire way.

“Forty-eight hours of rest,” says Kix dryly, “and a visit to medical. Neither of these has been completed, and you’re still obviously tired. Get some more sleep, sir, or I can’t clear you.”

“How about just the visit to medical?” Anakin tries to bargain.

“Sir, I know disasters tend to strike like clockwork around here, but please. Nothing will happen if you just get some more rest.”

And despite Kix all but punching fate in the face and yelling ‘come get me’, nothing does happen. Anakin meditates some more and actually manages to grab a nap as well.

When he wakes up it’s shipboard afternoon. He heads down to the hangar, and instead of attempting to work on the Twilight like he planned to, he finds himself drawn into a discussion with three of the troopers (Lyn died on Umbara, Bell was lost on Mandalore, while Flipper had marched on the temple and not died until after more than five years of atrocities in the name of the Empire).

He failed them. The thought hovers in his mind even as he gets more involved in the debate. He failed them like he failed all his men, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan. Like he failed his mother. Like he failed Padmé. Like he almost failed Luke, like he did fail him several times.

The storm of emotions is like a vibroblade to the gut and Anakin claws desperately at it, keeping it from showing either on his face or in the Force. He almost pulls away again, until Bell’s words cut through him like shards of glass.

“-but not this time!”

Bell punctuates his words by punching the air. They’re talking about marksmanship contests now, but Anakin cannot fully restrain how deeply it hits him. His expression must twitch, because Bell turns to him, eyes wide with feigned upset.

“You think I can’t, General?”

Flipper nudges him. “The General simply knows better than to put his credits up on the word of such an… unreliable source.” The grin is contagious, and Anakin finds himself smiling as well, grounding himself in their gentle teasing and free-flowing affection.

His failures feel further away and, desperate to keep that feeling, he does what he always did best – jump without looking. “Well, maybe I can help make it less unreliable.”

“Sir?”

Anakin’s mouth really ran away with him this time, but something tells him that this is good. A comfortable warmth that sits in his gut, the Force whispering in his ear, Bell’s disbelieving – but growing – excitement. “You’re off duty. I have some spare time. There are several training halls available.”

Not this time. He failed them all then, but not this time.

It is with a strange sort of budding contentment that he puts Bell and several other clones through their paces in a training hall. He’s doing something, changing something, and it’s such a tiny difference but it’s a difference. Anakin can’t do a lot from here, not yet, but this – being with the men, helping them – is something he can do.

For the first time since he woke up, Anakin feels like he’s doing something right.

Nearly an hour after they began, Anakin catches sight of Rex by the door. The expression on his face is one part amusement, one part ‘I know what you’re doing’ and about five parts exasperation. It’s familiar despite the years, comforting, and Anakin laughs before he can even register the urge to.

The next moment he freezes because – how long has it been? He catches himself almost immediately and excuses himself from the practice session. They can continue without him anyway.

By the door, Rex’s amusement sharpens into instant hyper-awareness. Anakin starts running through the excuses he’d hoped wouldn’t be necessary.

Rex’s care for his jedi is something Anakin has been in turns awed, perplexed and humbled by. Now, his worry is just as humbling, but it is also troublesome. In the end, Anakin finds himself released to medbay only because Rex too is still shaky after his coma. None of them are fully back to normal, so Anakin’s issues are easier to hide.

They won’t always be, but Anakin will get better at hiding, too.

He runs into Ahsoka again in the hallway and she immediately attaches herself to his side. The last time he had seen her in that other time flashes in his mind – tall, strong, grieving – and he rests his hand on her montrals, his tiny, beloved padawan who the galaxy has barely even started to break yet.

She’s here.

She is here and he hasn’t lost her, not to his own madness nor her iron-clad conviction that he’s gone forever.

The poisonous thinking that came with the Dark Side is still haunting him, and for a moment he wants to drag her even closer, make sure she could never leave – and then the thought leaves him sick, his hand drops down to squeeze her shoulder and then he lets go.

She follows him to the medbay, where Kix clears Anakin. The clone is clearly reluctant, going by the grumbling, but Anakin is free to return to duty. As such, he is free to check out exactly when it is he has returned to.

The answer… staggers him. It’s the early days of the war, that much had already been obvious in the many presences that had been long gone, but… so many of the bad things haven’t happened yet, so many things he can change, disasters he can undo, lives he can save –

Sidious.

And even though he knows he can’t just rush in, the scene plays out in Anakin’s mind. Since he’d learned about Luke, Vader had ever entertained the thought of killing his Master. And even before that, before Padmé and Obi-Wan and Mustafar, Sidious’ survival had never counted in Anakin’s plans. More than once he had tortured himself with what-ifs… and now he has the chance to make them come true.

Still, striding up to the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic and attempting to cut him down, for all that it would be satisfying, would more likely end with Anakin fleeing from the Coruscant Security Forces with his task still not accomplished more than anything else.

It’s nothing but wishful thinking and Anakin waves it away.

A quick talk with Yularen confirms that they’re heading back to Coruscant. They’re still six days out, at current velocity, something Yularen relays with an apologetic look, since Anakin tends to be eager to get planetside. In this case though, it means there’s only six days to prepare for seeing the temple again, seeing Padmé, seeing – Force, seeing the younglings.

“Master?”

Ahsoka’s voice pulls him out of those dark musings.

“Yeah, Snips?” The nickname rolls off his tongue with reflexive ease, and it is not until it already lingers in the air that he realizes how much it grounds him.

“Is everything all right?”

He could lie. She would see through it, and either let it be or keep digging until she thought she had found out every little detail.

“No.” Ahsoka stops dead and he turns to look back at her, her big eyes even wider than usual at his uncharacteristic honesty concerning his own state. “But it’s getting better.” How can it not?

“…If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The ringing silence that follows is belied by Ahsoka’s slow reach for him through their bond, and Anakin’s hesitant reach back, to meet her halfway. Ahsoka smiles at the contact and runs ahead. They’ve ended up by the mess hall and, though it’s still relatively early, there’s more than enough people moving around, grabbing an early meal.

“Glad to see you’re doing well, General!”

Anakin looks up to see Echo. The young ARC trooper has raised a hand to wave a greeting, precariously balancing his rations tray with only one hand. Smile tugging at his lips, Anakin raises his own hand in response. Another fate he would hopefully be able to change. Echo didn’t deserve what had happened to him.

Realization comes a second too late.

Echo slides down on the bench by Anakin and Ahsoka, and Fives sneaks up only half a step behind him. Ahsoka immediately vaults over the table and seats herself opposite Echo.

“Going to join us, General?” asks Fives. Anakin almost chokes. For an instant, Fives has all Anakin’s attention, but just as quick, Anakin turns away.

“Sorry.” he says choppily. “Sorry, I- I have something- I need to- I’m sorry. Later?”

He whirls around and practically flees the hall.

Fives. Oh, Force, Fives.

Anakin hears a hesitant “Is… something wrong?” from Echo, but escapes before he can hear Ahsoka’s response. Yes, something’s wrong. Something he’d managed to avoid thinking of entirely, but that he now can’t escape.

You died for the knowledge that might have saved everything and I didn’t believe you.

Fives had been – is – one of his men and that alone would be enough guilt to drown in but… that isn’t all.

Anakin firmly blocks the thoughts from his mind, refusing to wander down that old path of what-if. He had entertained enough of them, after Fives’… death. Even more after Echo had been found. So much more, in stolen moments with Padmé and occasionally Sabé or Rabé as well, staying up late nights with more alcohol than was probably advisable.

Force.

Three hallways down, Anakin finally stops, leans against the wall, and covers his face with his hands. He slowly sinks down, ending up sitting and pulling his knees close so he can hide in them instead of in his palms.

Smooth, Anakin. The internal reprimand takes on Obi-Wan’s voice, which is almost a step too far. Anakin’s eyes sting.

Eventually Anakin manages to gather himself enough that he can paste the mask back on. He can’t quite push the thoughts back into the box where he hadn’t even known that he’d stored them, however, and from that point on he can’t decide whether to run from Fives out of shame or never let him out of sight again. Over the coming days the result of the impulses leaves Anakin looking like a shy adolescent from a holo-drama, constantly keeping track of Fives, but ducking around corners, hiding behind bulkheads, and on one occasion, making a Force-assisted leap up a staircase (accidentally sparking a game of tag with Ahsoka, but he managed to make it look deliberate, so he counts it as a win) to avoid the clone.

Whatever explanation Ahsoka had given the two ARC troopers must have been unsatisfying however, because suddenly it seems like Fives is everywhere. Anakin tries to distract himself, mingling with the troops, burying himself in the Twilight, catching upon the present, but whenever he senses Fives just a little too close, he’s running again.

Anakin fears he will keep running for a long time.

[overwatch-does-stuff]

Overwatch: Of Mind and Body, Of Body and Mind

Summary: When everything is chaotic, it doesn't help when your primary caretakers and two closest friends believe that the other can't help you. But Bastion needs them both, now more than ever. ---

   "Greetings, Bastion, friend. Come in."    Zenyatta's abode (it wasn't a room, Bastion decided, it was more than that,) was alight with a soft golden glow that spread from the center of the room, where the monk sat, his legs crossed, with his hands on his knees. Normally, dim lighting would only make Bastion more nervous, but as they stepped into the room they only felt peace.    It was very nice, a contrast from earlier today, where they had froze up while tending to their garden.    "You may sit or stand as you please, friend." Zenyatta did not move, but his words rolled through Bastion's audials like. . . water flowing over rocks in a stream.    Bastion considered both options. Standing was neutral, but rising above Zenyatta like so felt disrespectful. But, sitting down, in the only way that Bastion could, would cause a rather loud crash that would end the sense of peace that permeated the room. And what if the sudden movement caused their own protocols to awaken again? With that thought came the phantom rush of the notifications again. Bastion tensed, bringing up their weak, self-coded mental walls against the impending round of compulsions.    Something took Bastion's hand and brought it up from their side. Delicate metal fingers trailed across the palm, before embracing it. Bastion refocused their optic onto the real world to see Zenyatta standing. He held their hand in both of his. Bastion looked down at the sight before looking back to Zenyatta's face.    "I sense great trouble within you," the monk said softly. "Would you like to share it with me? Perhaps I can help to ease your worries today."    Bastion tried to vocalize, but found the subroutine missing and didn't dare look further to find it. They looked away.    "If you don't feel like speaking it is alright. You can join me in my meditation." Zenyatta's grip loosened on their hand. "Let us sit down."    Zenyatta gave a small downward pull on their hand as he lowered himself to the floor without a sound. Bastion took a pause, steeling themselves for the noise and the falling that came with the act of sitting down. They urged their movement servos the relax. They felt their center of gravity begin to shift, backwards, drawn in that direction by the weight of their sentry gun barrel. Just as their body approached tipping point, however, stability warnings flooded through Bastion's systems, causing them to lurch back upright with a loud creak.    The noise seemed to reverberate throughout the room. Bastion froze. Zenyatta was standing again in moments. He reached forwards, and put his hand on Bastion's chest.    Zenyatta said, "it is alright, friend. All is well. I now understand what is troubling you. It is your past that worries you."    No, it wasn't. The problem wasn't with the images of the battlefield or the Crisis, not anymore. Those nightmares had faded after Bastion had left the forests of Eichenwalde. The past was behind, rather, it was the now! It was the warnings going off and off and off all the time even though Bastion knew there was no danger! Even when everything was absolute bliss, their stupid processor would just. . . would just. . .    Bastion turned away from Zenyatta and walked out the door. They were sure the monk tried to say something in protest, but they didn't listen to what it was.    The walk to Torbjorn's workshop was nearly across the Watchpoint. Bastion passed many faces (some fleeting in memory, some a bit more familiar,) but not one of the faces looked at them for more than a brief second. They all quietly slid out of Bastion's path without a word, clearing the path to the objective.    The workshop door was closed, but it peeled like flower petals when Bastion tore through. When the sound of tearing metal ceased, Torbjorn came out from behind a table, shaking. He was holding a wrench but as he laid eyes on Bastion he dropped it. He dived behind the table again.    Bastion came over to a workbench that looked relatively empty and sat down. They began running diagnostics. That was the first step of a checkup, right?    "What. . . the hell?" Torbjorn said with fear in his voice. Fear was normal for humans upon sight of an E54 unit. Fear was expected.    Bastion paid no mind, continuing the diagnostics check. No bugs, no glitched.    "What is this all about? What are you doing here? Why, why did you destroy my door?!"    Thanks to an analysis of their subroutines, Bastion finally found the one that to activate their vocalizer again. Their rusty omnicode sputtered out all over the room. "Fix-me."    "What is wrong with you?!" Torbjorn grit his teeth together.    "Fix-me." Bastion coded the message requesting repairs again.    It took Torbjorn a moment to figure out what they were saying. "Well no shit, you need fixing, by the looks of it. Whatever's gotten into you to destroy my workshop is surely something. What's gotten into you?"    "Fix."    "I hear you! What do your diagnostics say, you useless lump of steel?!"    After a moment of pause, Bastion pointed to their head.    "That's very specific. Any particular programs? Is it related to a mode?"    Bastion again waved their hand at their head.    "The whole thing?" Torbjorn asked incredulously.    Bastion nodded.    "Okay, so it sounds like your diagnostic systems themselves are faulty, then, because despite your distinct lack of logic processing sometimes, you haven't crashed your entire system. If that were true, you'd be offline."    Offline. Would it be like a recharge period, only with no sudden jolts of old memories? No, no, it was best not to dwell on such thoughts.    "You aren't offline. So, therefore, I actually have to find the problem. Now, you haven't been able to let me look at your processor before, remember?"    Bastion remembered. They had tried to ease their self-protection subroutines enough to have Torbjorn take a single diagnostic panel off their head, but in an instant. . . Bastion came out of their memory banks and looked to find the spots on the wall where bullet holes had been crudely patched. They had almost hurt Torbjorn that day.    And looking back at the door they had just burst through, it was clear that they still had every ability to do so again.    All of the purpose drained from Bastion's body and they collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. How ironic. The crash again caused Torbjorn to dive for cover, but he inched back over as Bastion stayed still. They avoided his fearful gaze.    "What is wrong with you?" Torbjorn asked again, much softer this time.    Bastion made a slow, grand, sweeping gesture over the entirety of their body.    "Everything? That's impossible. You are fully functioning." Torbjorn mused, not in his usual scolding tone.    Bastion whirred wordlessly, almost unsure of why they were making any noise at all.    "I don't understand."    Bastion looked past him.    "Tell me more. What's wrong? What do your diagnostics say?" Torbjorn began to pace. "What can I do? What can I change-?"    At the word change, Bastion let out a trill, acknowledging chirp.    Torbjorn paused and gave Bastion an incredulous look. "You mean, you have a problem with your design?"    He uttered the word like it was offensive to him. Bastion hesitated to nod.    "Wha- but, I designed you!" He practically spat. "You're my state-of-the-art design! My perfect design! The best damn machine I ever built! You were so successful that you all nearly wiped out the entire human race! And you're telling me that you have a problem with your design?!"    Bastion was frozen. Successful. Wiping out. Humans. Their original purpose. It was no secret to them, but hearing Torbjorn of all people openly exclaim it was jarring. Every other human they had met had tried to cushion the topic, to lampshade out the guns attached to Bastion's form, to ignore any and all signs of that previous purpose that so often bubbled up, but here, now. . .    Torbjorn was breathing heavily from the outburst. The look on his face was unreadable. He looked Bastion over up and down, over and over again.    "I," he started, before looking away. "I can't change that design of yours. That's what makes it so perfect, don't you know?"    The self-preservation protocols. The bullet holes in the workshop wall. Of course Bastion knew.    "I can't tell you that I can try, either. I don't like false hope, and I'm not one to give it." He continued.    "But that does not mean we should give up the hope we have."    The other voice caused Torbjorn to flinch. He looked past Bastion, and his face immediately grew irritated. Bastion swiveled his head around to see Zenyatta standing in the broken door.    "You. What do you want?" Torbjorn asked gruffly.    "I want to help Bastion. Is this what you wish as well?" Zenyatta replied, staying by the door.    Torbjorn paused. "Yes."    "Then we share a similar goal, then."    For once, Torbjorn was completely speechless in front of the monk. Normally, Bastion remembered, the man had some sort of cruel retort on the back of his tongue, but now there was only a silence full of thought.    He eventually spoke. "Alright, tell me what's wrong with Bastion here, then."    "I believe Bastion is suffering from a conflict between their will and what they were programmed for."    Torbjorn was again speechless. Bastion could see his lips outline his usual words. You don't have will. I didn't create you with will.    Zenyatta waited until he was done. "I agree with you on one thing. Programming cannot be changed. It is integral to our being."    Torbjorn's face went completely blank with disbelief.    "However, I believe that the power of will can be bolstered to overcome maladaptive programming." The monk continued.    The engineer's usual expression when dealing with Zenyatta returned. He laughed bitterly. "Is that so?"    "Bastion, do you not agree?"    Zenyatta still stood in the remains of the broken door, holding out his hand towards Bastion. Torbjorn, on the other side of them, crossed his arms and blew air at his beard in a huff. A subtle, golden light seemed to be radiating from the monk. Around the engineer was the modest, familiar gray color of the workshop floor. Bastion swiveled their head between the two.    They then looked down at the ground. They wanted to get up, but just as sitting down was difficult, so was standing up. They let out a deep whirr, before bracing themselves for the awkward jump.    Both Zenyatta and Torbjorn came beside them instantly, realizing their intention. Without even the hesitation of realizing the other was helping, the two grabbed Bastion's arms and slowly pulled them up off the floor.    "There you go, up and at 'em-"    "It is okay to ask for help, Bastion-"    The two paused, then looked at each other.    "Thank-you." Bastion coded.    "You're welcome, you lump-"    "You are most welcome, friend-"    Again, the two spoke simultaneously, and upon that recognition they both went quiet again.    "Can you understand Omnicode, Torbjorn?" Zenyatta spoke first. It was the first time Bastion had ever heard him sound doubtful.    "Yes! Of course I can. I helped program the language, after all." Torbjorn replied.    "Fascinating. I was not aware."    "Hmph. In case you didn't notice, I also designed the both of you." Torbjorn rolled his eyes.    Zenyatta took a step closer to Bastion. "I am aware of that. However, you seem to not understand it when your designs develop beyond what you created them for."    Bastion internally cringed at the loaded words. They could see the next biting remark form on Torbjorn's lips.    "Ha! You think I don't know about these 'developments', too?! You think I don't notice when my killing machines decide to start watering flowers?!" Torbjorn violently gestured to Bastion. "You think that I'm not trying to figure out what's changed and how to replicate it?!"    "I am not saying that. I am saying that you seem to prefer not to treat Bastion as a complex being. You know what I say is true." Zenyatta's tone grew icy.    "Yeah, and you like to flit around, telling people about your 'souls' without any goddamn evidence, while I am trying to help Bastion actually change its systems!" Torbjorn took a step towards Bastion as well.    "Yet you neglect the part of them that is perhaps the most susceptible to change."    "At least I'm doing something! All you do is just sit around and talk, like that's going to help the next time Bastion gets startled and has an episode!"    Bastion looked between the two. They tried to wave their hand in a calming motion, but by this point the two of them were facing each other head-on, completely oblivious to Bastion's motions.    "My work helps reduce the amount of episodes Bastion has." Zenyatta said.    "Yeah, but it doesn't stop them, now does it? There's only one way to do that, and only I can do it!" Torbjorn pointed to himself.    "You discount my valuable work with Bastion."    "And you discount MINE!"    It was a spontaneous decision, but one Bastion had complete control over, when they configured into Configuration: Sentry. The sound of Bastion's mechanical transformation startled both the engineer and the monk, though Zenyatta's flinch was less pronounced. Bastion aimed their barrel down the middle of them.    "H-hey Bastion." Torbjorn gave a weak smile. "It's okay. Right? Everything's fine."    "Everything is alright, friend. Torbjorn and I were simply discussing. There is no danger here." Zenyatta added, considerably less shaky.    Bastion moved their barrel back and forth between the two of them. Both appeared to be frozen in time, it seemed like. Torbjorn's breaths were shallow, and Zenyatta's usual rhythm was stilled.    "You-help-me." Bastion coded, first looking at Zenyatta. They then turned to Torbjorn and repeated. "You-help-me."    Torbjorn looked away. His voice was soft. "I'm trying to help you. I mean it."    "Torbjorn, that wasn't a question." Zenyatta corrected. "I believe that was a statement."    Bastion wiggled their barrel up and down, a nod.    "So. . . you're not taking his side?" Torbjorn eyed the monk.    Bastion paused, trying to think of the right coding configuration to express their meaning. "You-both-help-me."    "Bastion, do not feel pressured by him to take his side." Zenyatta also tilted his head slightly to the engineer.    "You-BOTH-help-me." Bastion coded with more emphasis, swinging between the both of them again.    The two looked at each other another time.    "Okay, Bastion. You've made your point." Torbjorn uncrossed his arm, and reached out, crushing Bastion's barrel. "You want to come back to Configuration: Recon now?"    When he withdrew his hand, Bastion did just that. The transformation was smooth and quick, not filled with the usual stiffness of ageing parts nor the usual feelings of dread and exhaustion. Bastion looked to the both of them and let out an indeterminate, happy chirp.    Zenyatta came alongside them. "I am glad that you've reached out and found who helps you along your journey. I support you, no matter if you choose to see me, Torbjorn, or us both."    "I suppose I'm also glad that someone else is trying to help fix you, too." Torbjorn looked at the ground and shrugged.    Bastion hummed happily. They turned to leave, but stopped when they saw the remains of the door. They rotated back around.    "I-help-you?" They coded, gesturing to Torbjorn.    "With the door you broke?" Torbjorn nodded knowingly.    Bastion let out an apologetic whistle.    "Yeah, you'd better apologize, you lump of lugnuts. I swear I had finally fixed that thing last week." Torbjorn said. Bastion could detect an air of teasing.    It looked as if it took Zenyatta a moment to understand the engineer's intent. "Ah, I see. I shall leave you two to your work, then. I have another talk session with Orisa not too long from now."    Bastion nodded. "Say-hello-for-me."    "I will. Goodbye, Bastion." He hesitated. "And goodbye, Torbjorn."    Torbjorn did not respond. Bastion waved as Zenyatta left the room.    "Well! Now that he's gone, let's get to work, shall we?" Torbjorn walked over to his toolbench.    Bastion followed. The bright lights of the workshop illuminated everything, making all things clear. The sound of Torbjorn's metal tools was not chaotic but regular. Normally, the sound of metal on metal would make Bastion nervous, but as they helped with the repairs they only felt peace.    It was very nice.

[poorreputation]

Undertaker: The Last Ride

When I say I've been waiting years for this, I'm serious. Ever since Undertaker's loss at Wrestlemania 30, and shortly after that the news he would be on the Stone Cold Podcast, I've been eagerly anticipating seeing Mark Calaway speak as himself. Many fans have been hesitant to watch Calaway out of character, worried it would ruin the mystique of the Undertaker, but I've felt for years that the work put into these characters behind the scenes is just as fascinating as the fiction.

I watched episode one soon after it aired, and want to do a rewatch/reaction post before episode two drops tonight. Join me, if you wish.

If you've not seen the episode, a little content warning: there is blood, gore in a surgical setting (very, very graphic, but only there for a couple seconds at a time), needles, and implied injuries, including details of Mark's concussion at WM30.

CHAPTER 1: THE GREATEST FEAR

The series, all five episodes, takes place between 2017 and 2020. Chapter 1 covers Wrestlemania 33, and his match with Roman Reigns, which was intended to be his last.

This is the first time Mark Calaway's really opened up about his work, and himself in general. There's other instances of him being interviewed, even mixing fact and kayfabe, but never on a platform like this, certainly not with WWE.

Mark: You know they call me Santa Clause, now, right? Because I only come out once a year.

Jimmy Hart, being the sweetest: That's all you need to. You look great.

These backstage segments of Calaway with his coworkers are honestly some of the best parts of the episode. A transcript can only do so much justice.

Roman Reigns, upcoming opponent of the Undertaker, signs in at the lobby desk right next to Mark, being a smartass. Screw your camera guy, indeed.

Mark meditates on the struggles of working only once a year, and throughout the episode, chronicles the moments and injuries that make an already challenging schedule nearly impossible. Chasing the dragon that is the perfect match has lead him to a stalemate with himself and his character: if the Undertaker can go out in a match fitting of him at Wrestlemania, Mark Calaway will be happy.

Gah, baby 'Taker at his Survivor Series debut always gets me. No one could've called the run that boy was about to go on. I see other people call this portion of the episode the mythologizing of the character, building him up to be this big deal, and it's so funny to me because I wouldn't be watching if I didn't already think that of him. Like, y'all are just preaching to the choir, at this point. That, and so much that's been said here has been consistent with what Mark's peers have told about him in the past, it just feels like catching people up rather than building an image from scratch.

Say what you will about Vince McMahon (and there's a lot to be said), but there's something special about his comments on Mark Calaway. You rarely get to hear the guy talk candidly as it is, so when he does, you know it's important.

Calaway describing the weight, the prestige of Wrestlemania... and then the sneer he makes after that statement. I ain't a journalist, so I'll freely speculate: 'Mania's for the best of the best, and he just doesn't see himself as deserving to be there, not right now, at least.

Other wrestlers, from Orton to Edge to Batista, talk about what an honor, and mark of trust, it is to work with Undertaker, period. To work with him at Wrestlemania? You've arrived. The implication of what this would, or should, have meant for Roman is clear. It's a wonder if this image that his coworkers built up of him affected Mark's own expectations of himself. I mean, it's more or less spelled out in the episode, and it is the pro wrestling way to go out on your back, losing to someone who can use the rub, but, just throwing it out there, 'Taker had more pressure on him than most. That legacy, 'Mania, and the worry of managing to physically move during a match? It's overwhelming.

For those confused about why working once or twice a year would be so much more difficult than working hundreds of shows in that same time span, Steve Austin sums it up best: the road keeps you calloused and bruised. Ring rust from inactivity, due to being away or rehabbing an injury, gets you both mentally and physically. Knowing Mark's doing this process every year in his 50′s is insane.

During this, Steve plainly states that to go through that, and the many surgeries as Michelle McCool, Mark's wife, mentioned, it makes him a tough son of a bitch. It's an interesting note, considering we start this episode with Mark referring to that toughness as a thing of the past. His perception of himself, and what his peers see, is another fascinating aspect of the documentary.

Calaway talks about how nerve-racking the final workout before 'Mania is. The worry you'll hurt something while trying to train. Later, when other wrestlers talk about how calm, cool and collected 'Taker always seems... it's like they've built him up to be superhuman; Invulnerable to the same things and fears that plague all athletes. They talk about the physical decline, of course, that’s inevitable. But the mental side of things is where the biggest differences are.

Hoo boy, WrestleMania 30, the cause of my first major bout with depression. After that match between Undertaker and Brock Lesnar, not only was I crying and distressed, but there was then the news of Mark Calaway's hospitalization that was the numbing cherry on top. I remember registering how much more important the man's health was, but it was like I couldn't get any more upset. 

After that, I'd read up on so many rumors, that the only new bit of information here in the documentary is about when Mark's being rushed to the ER; how Vince infamously left the arena before 'Mania was over just to make sure Mark was okay, and, in new info, Brock was in the car with him. I cannot stress enough how humanizing that is to hear, especially considering how closely guarded Brock is about his persona, and how the man and the character are often so blended together. Time heals all wounds, but I really appreciated hearing that.

So, the injury for the uninformed: during the match with Brock, 'Taker got concussed. No one knows when it happened, much less Mark, who can't remember anything from after 3:30 PM that afternoon. To say I, and many others, were convinced this was it, he'd retire, would be an understatement. Many people felt he should retire, I did too, at one point. But, I could also tell Calaway wouldn't want to leave on such a note, because frankly, the match sucked. That's what happens when one person gets knocked the fuck out, and the other guy's gotta improvise. The fact 'Taker's going on muscle memory while he's out is nothing short of a miracle.

With WM30 in the books, 'Taker was at a low point, his confidence shot and a lot riding on his match with Bray Wyatt at WrestleMania 31 (or Play Button, if you prefer). Bray himself recalling how nervous he was, but how chill Undertaker appeared, in comparison.

Triple H's pep talk with 'Taker backstage is another gem, and I just love their friendship. I love the raw vulnerability this series is providing, both when it comes to 'Taker, and everyone else around him. I hope it's a constant through the rest of the docuseries.

WM31 was an ego boost, and leads into the superior Brock-Undertaker program in 2015. It's not highlighted as much, but it's fire, and I think allowed Calaway to redeem himself a bit, in his eyes. Not too much, since he didn't retire, but it made fans really start to come back 'round.

Now, I liked WM32 because I got to see it in person, and it was the first time I'd ever seen Undertaker live, so I'm a biased bitch. Anyone signing up to work Hell in a Cell is a ballsy move, and considering how old both 'Taker and Shane McMahon were going into that is no small feat. I liked it, it was a spectacle, and I was sports entertained. There is the implication, between showing clips of WM32 and 'Taker's appearance at the 2017 Royal Rumble, that Calaway wasn't satisfied with how the former turned out. It becomes fully fleshed out he's talking about entering the RR, and feeling intense regret, but that he was also disappointed with the former. Again, if he were happy with it, he'd have retired, but that's again the difference between what the fans see and what the wrestler sees. I, and I imagine roughly 100,000 others, had the time of our lives; Mark Calaway was, and still is, chasing perfection.

With RR 2017, Mark freely admits that he had no business being there. It sounds truly like his thought process in the moment, and not just the regret of how WM33 went down, and that the build for that match began when he and Roman went toe-to-toe at the Rumble.

Back to WM33 weekend. 'Taker's finished up the final workout, and is talking about his place on the upcoming card:

Mark: Regardless of my injuries, regardless of my age, regardless of everything that has happened, if I'm on the card, there's some young guy that's making a lot of the shows through the year, you know, that may not be on that card. So, it's my duty to make sure that it's worth putting me on the card. No one would probably say it to my face if I stunk it up, (but) I would know, and that's one of my biggest fears, and um, is becoming a parody of myself.

This is someone who's also been reading the rumor mill, the comments, general fan reaction. It's neat he's so receptive to fan interaction, and makes me wonder if he's actually been doing this for years, but it's also sad to watch him only see the negative sides. The Undertaker, as a character, wouldn't have worked for so long without innovation, so being open-minded is important. And, I'm all for Mark Calaway doing what he wants with his life, but, for him, will anything, any match, ever be good enough?

It's the night of the Hall of Fame 2017 and we see Mark and Michelle backstage greeting people. We get a shot of Mark saying hi to the likes of the late Bruno Sammartino, inductees Sean Waltman and Kurt Angle, and I just love how dolled up Michelle looks, whereas Mark's just in jeans, a dress shirt and a cap. I love their dynamic, so so much. Also, Mark and Kurt's friendship, that's adorable. One of the good things to happen when I found out about kayfabe was thinking how these characters who normally hate each other on screen, were really besties backstage. It's a thought that still tickles me to this day, and watching that in the episode on several occasions is a joy to behold.

Kurt's talking about 'Taker's role as locker room leader, and Mark mentions how it wasn't ever something he actively pursued, it just happened. Being locker room leader just seems to be yet another thing added to the legend of the Undertaker. Makes a bit more sense why Mark's peers put him on a pedestal.

Wrestlers are talking about how, very early on, Undertaker set the benchmark, the gold standard, of work every night. John Bradshaw Layfield goes on to say, "(Mark) was the yardstick. And if you did well, then pretty much you were in, if not, then you were out, because you knew if you didn't do well, it wasn't the Undertaker's fault." That explains why it hurts so much for 'Taker to not be at his best. I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out, but it's fascinating to see all of these elements come together. It's also interesting to hear JBL build up 'Taker as the greatest of all time, and then plainly say he's never seen Mark in worse shape than he was heading into WM33.

On a lighter note, it's real funny to hear Mark and Roman talk about the latter's new twins (from 2017) considering he's got another set of twins on the way, now. Just in general, Roman going on about how much he loves talking to Mark about work, but mostly family and to hear the stories Mark's got to tell, you can see how much this match means to him. The prestige of working with 'Taker at any point, let alone 'Mania, he knows this is the highlight of his career. I can't help but respect Roman for that, and couldn't help but feel that way going into WM33. It's a stark difference from how I felt about Brock post-WM30, and I honestly thought I was prepared to watch Undertaker take his rumored loss at this show.

It's the night before 'Mania, and they're doing entrance rehearsals. The stage setup for this show was so cool, guys, it took inspiration from the theme parks that are littered throughout Orlando, and was a beauty to see live, especially when it got dark. And 'Taker's entrance, even in practice, is a spectacle.

Cuts to the day of WrestleMania 33. General nerves are felt, and the start of a very long day begins.

Mark: People say, "All you gotta do is go out there and chokeslam somebody, make your entrance, and everybody's gonna be happy." No. I'm not gonna be happy. Like when I say, and this isn't stupid man pride, or cliche stuff. I'm either gonna go out in a match that's befitting the Undertaker at WrestleMania, or I'm going out on my shield, one way or another.

And there we have it, the subject of this docuseries.

Roman talking about the weight of potentially being the last person to work with the Undertaker, it just makes you feel bad for him things didn't work out quite the way they planned. But, it's as JBL summed up before, no matter the outcome or if it's really 'Taker's last match, this is the biggest night of Roman Reigns' career. I know episode 2 will focus on the aftermath of WM33, and Mark's reaction, and what gets him to come back to wrestling, but I hope they get Roman's take as well. Is he as disappointed as 'Taker? Does he blame himself? Or, did he actually like what they did, flaws and all?

Content warning: they show the botched top rope dive from WM25, the one where 'Taker goes head-first into the mat. It's during the segment where Mark explains how he comes from the era of 'if you can move, you can make it to the ring'. He's okay, and we know he's okay, but it doesn't make it hurt any less to watch. They also mention the time he was severely sick and still worked a match with Big Show, and how he caught on fire in 2010 on the way to the Elimination Chamber match. Like, they actually show him engulfed in flames, then narrate how he went on to work the match. I love you, Undertaker, but JFC.

And now we're at the medical portion of the episode. Warning for needles.

Actual showtime for the match, and even now, 'Taker's entrance gives me chills. That feeling of happiness is indescribable, and is that precious something that never fails to make me smile.

So, everything else in the match is framed as great, brutal, well-done, and then that damn botched tombstone reversal comes up, and it's honestly the hardest thing to watch in the entire episode. I swear, it's the only bad thing in my eyes, and seems to be enough to make 'Taker dissatisfied. Again, I'm biased, with others saying his whole mood was off during the match, and that affected the overall performance, so what do I know? But, I will say this, ending 'Mania on such a grim note will always be a strange choice to me. I get it, if not the main event, where else would you put the Undertaker’s retirement match? Still, it completely changed my perception of the whole night, from riding high to finding myself depressed, once again. And maybe that’s exactly what all those wrestlers, namely Vince McMahon, were talking about. Instead of this being Shawn Michaels going out on a high note, it’s far more dour.

Mark: We'll see what tomorrow brings. 

And with that look, and the fact he's had a match as recently as March/April of this year, he won't be gone for long.

Preview for the next episode contains intense surgical imagery. Just a heads up.

Post-episode thoughts:

I learned very little new information, but that's not the the hook of this series for me. Undertaker's the first character I ever truly loved, long before the likes of Supernatural came into my life. An interesting dynamic is potentially seeing both the Undertaker retire, and Supernatural come to a close, in the same year. I don't find myself mourning either, because I've already been through that. Now, I just want to indulge in behind-the-scenes tales, and watch two of the most influential stories in my life come to a close.

I greatly look forward to Chapter 2 of The Last Ride, and the rest of the episodes to come.

[sweetsweetnathan]

Silence (Robyn x Yugiri)

[Robyn struggles with the loss of his magic. Yugiri loses her patience with him. About 2000 words.]

(First Chapter)

(Second Chapter)

-

On the bottom bunk of a bunk bed in the middle of the broiling summer night Robyn lied awake, restless and uncomfortable. Since the beginning of his training Robyn had been moved into the warehouse-turned-operational-headquarters. He lived in the tight, economical confines of a barracks with 22 other agents, including Yugiri, all of them Doman save for Robyn. It had been years, but Robyn was still familiar with these conditions as they mirrored his living situation when he served as a private in the Maelstrom. The promise of private accommodations was one of the biggest factors in Robyn's drive to become an officer, and being able to choose where he lived spurred him into becoming an agent. Miraculously it was not the sharp decrease in quality-of-life that kept Robyn up at night. He understood Yugiri's logic: If Imperial spies were watching the headquarters from afar it would be difficult for them to determine who was the commanding officer of the affair. No one saluted Yugiri, nor did Yugiri dress or position herself apart from her subordinates in any way. In fact, Robyn was more at risk than she was, being the only non-Au Ra of the operation. "The Empire has to wonder," Robyn thought once, "'Why do they have a white-haired human among them? What are they going to use him for? And why is he so bad at ninjutsu?'" But it wasn't even the threat of assassination Robyn feared. It was silence. - Morning came and it didn't take long for Yugiri to notice that Robyn absent from the company's daily group breakfast. "Where is that impossible man?" She thought. His acupuncture sessions were his first assignment every morning, and while he always made it to them on time Yugiri had begun to eagerly anticipate the day he was late. Rarely did he take the operation seriously. "In fact," Yugiri thought, "rarely does he take anything seriously," before deciding to mockingly add, "except for himself." Yes, Robyn was quick to remind everyone what a tremendous sacrifice he was making by temporarily giving up his magic. "Eorzea is losing a great talent," Robyn had said almost every day for the first two weeks. "You all should be thankful." The past week however, he had been suspiciously, mercifully quiet. It would have worried Yugiri if it didn't relieve her so much. The 24-person operation ate all their meals together, and for those first two weeks Robyn was quick to argue with anyone about any facet of Doman culture. "If your religion teaches non-attachment to the physical world, why are you currently eating?" "If your warriors are the greatest in history, why did you lose against the Empire?" Petulant, churlish questions that would just as often demonstrate him to be an ignorant fool as an insufferable genius. Yugiri didn't imagine that both temperaments could exist in the same person. She was not one to chase the rabbits of academia and philosophy; they were too elusive and lived too far down paths she had no interest in walking. This made Robyn's behavior absolutely baffling: Questioning Doman swordsmanship got him into sparring bouts he couldn't possibly win. Questioning Doman philosophy resulted in nothing but Robyn being corrected for his misunderstanding of the fundamental concepts. Yet always Robyn would find more challenges and questions to levy on his comrades. "Why?" for weeks Yugiri wondered. That is, until she received word of his progress in learning Doman custom. It was part of his training to be able to act out Doman bows, gestures, and ceremonies as if he had been living in the country his whole life. And somehow, according to him, Robyn had grown to understand these things through the spirited conversations he had spurred on over meals. Yugiri involuntarily regarded this as clever, though naturally she kept the compliment to herself. She refused to believe Robyn's "method" to be anything more than serendipitous blundering. Breakfast passed. Minutes after the facility's morning assignments began Yugiri received a communique by linkpearl: "Robyn hasn't shown up yet. It's his last session. Any idea where he is?" - The Agelyss river cut a deep creek into the land, resulting in tall rocks along the flanks of the whole riverbed that stood more than six feet above the water's sparkling surface. This made it uncommon to find a place where the ground and the river met evenly, and even if one did find such a spot it was likely contested by a jungle predator. For the last week Robyn had come out to one such spot, making a point to use only ninjutsu to clear away the wildlife. It was his own personal method of training. But while improving his ninjutsu would be a worthwhile endeavor by itself Robyn was there for another reason entirely: The sound of the river. He feared that if he went a day without hearing it that he might lose his mind. Yugiri stood next to Robyn. She didn't walk up to him or appear in a puff of smoke. She was simply suddenly there. Robyn gave a jump, then looked up and mumbled, "You're good at that." "I better be," she said, "any particular reason you're out here?" Robyn expected outrage and ridicule, but Yugiri cut to the chase. Robyn spoke slowly, saying, "Today is my last day. I figured they could wait another moment." "Well they can't. Get up and let's go." Yugiri said coldly. Robyn responded with a sigh. "Just... Slow down, okay? I get it. It's my job. It's a matter of life and death for your nation. I know these things. But listen." Robyn ceased speaking. Yugiri was waiting for him to finish his thought. "Listen for what?" She demanded. "Listen to the river," Robyn said. "It sounds like magic." Yugiri rolled her eyes. She moved to stand between Robyn and the river. "No. No more philosophy. No more questions. No more meditating. You have wasted enough of my time and energy with such things. I don't know what sort of Eorzean issue you're having, but you cannot give up now after my people spent three weeks training you." Robyn, his shoulders low and sullen, his face almost expressionless, stood up obligingly. Were he in a more lively state he would have called Yugiri out for shifting her tone from “accepting of differences” to “some problems are Eorzean problems”, a contradiction Yugiri was more than aware of but let slip in a moment of frustration. To Yugiri's surprise she did not read defiance in his posture as she did almost every other day. Robyn looked weak as he stood before her; despite his training he appeared far less the man he was when they first met. Instinctively Yugiri knew that there was something amiss with the man, but getting it out of him would mean compromising the authority of her orders. "I can do that another time," she thought, "right now keeping the operation on-schedule is the most important thing." Yugiri turned to leave, expecting Robyn to follow. Two steps later Robyn stopped and said, "Yugiri. Let's fight one more time." Yugiri did not respond, choosing instead to keep walking on in expectation that he follow. At the same time though, part of her felt something click into place; there was an agreeable certainty to his offer that appealed to her. If Yugiri were asked to verbalize this feeling she couldn't explain why she felt it, but she did know what it meant: She wanted to fight Robyn. When Yugiri and Robyn fought the first time she noticed something about the way he casted magic from his hand: It was when she was behind him preparing to strike and he shot a wide, wild blast of heat that propelled them away from each other that she noticed him slam his foot into the ground a moment before his magic ignited. It was to brace himself against the backwards shock of his blast, like a pugilist bracing to receive a punch to the stomach during training. In the moment it happened Yugiri felt herself memorize that sound. And now she heard that sound erupt from behind her once more as Robyn stomped into the dirt to brace himself for a discharge of magic. With a leap and a turn Yugiri put space between her and Robyn and faced him, drawing her daggers by reflex. She landed anticipating a blast of flame to be surging towards her that she would have to dodge for her life... But there was nothing. Robyn stood ten steps away from her, a weak smile on his face and an arm outstretched with a finger out and pointing at her. At the very tip of Robyn's finger there was a small flame, no bigger than that created by a stove. Yugiri's eyes searched for deception. Robyn lowered his hand and tilted his head back to look up at the sky; Yugiri's search found only sorrow. "That's all I can make now," Robyn said, "no more than a candle. But it's worse than that. I didn't realize it, but I actually use tiny amounts of aether to move my jaw when I talk. I use aether to lift my fork when I eat. I use it when I read, I use it when I think... But now it's gone. My magic is gone." Robyn's voice was choked. Yugiri sheathed her daggers. It didn't feel right to force him back to the headquarters at that moment. Robyn went on, "Only now do I realize how I must sound sometimes. Without my magic I can't think straight long enough to make a plan, or come up with fancy ways of saying things, or even ask interesting questions. These are the silliest things a person can do, but they were the things I did. If I could ask a question that a person never even considered, that proved I wasn't just a figment of their imagination. It proved I was real, and that I couldn't be ignored. My thoughts and words and questions probably sounded like madness to someone who couldn't feel my magic... Which of course was everyone except for me. But now it's not even me. My mind has gone quiet."

A breeze drifted by as Yugiri tried to think of how to respond. She was ready to sacrifice herself, Robyn, and everyone else under her command if she thought her mission would free the Doman people from Imperial rule. But there were still some lines she wouldn’t cross. It was a small line, likely the first to give in case of emergency, but letting (rather than forcing) Robyn come to terms with what he had to do to get the job done was one of those lines. In Yugiri’s opinion one is not a very good leader if they have to force their subordinates to follow their will.

Finally Yugiri decided what to say back to him. Not an apology, or some condescending consolation, but a challenge: “Aether? Magic? Is that really all you are?” Robyn’s attention escaped the confines of his mind and returned to the world around him. Yugiri said, “Come see me if you want to give up and run back to the Maelstrom. I’ll give you your magic back and send you on your way. I doubt you could even touch me with your ninjutsu anyways.”

Robyn’s eyes focused and unfocused. He stood looking like the wind could push him over at any moment. But he wasn’t falling. He was Self-reflecting on how Yugiri was successfully goading him. With one hand and the minimal amount of effort Robyn drew from his belt a shuriken. Then he turned his eyes to Yugiri and gave answer to her challenge.

-

Robyn returned to the headquarters with half of his body limp from Yugiri’s pressure-point attacks, half his weight carried on her shoulder as she aided him by dragging him along. For once in his life he said nothing. But he was thinking, slow as he did, about what had happened, and was yet to happen still. The operation itself would start soon, and with it would come an opportunity to find himself... Or find himself lacking.

[acreativeintrovert-blog]

So today's talk was on who we allow to mold our thinking. God, or this world under the rule of Satan? At Romans 12:2, we are counseled: “Stop being molded by this system of things, but be transformed by making your mind over, so that you may prove to yourselves the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” Those inspired words show that whatever molded our thinking before we learned about God, it is possible to bring our thoughts into closer harmony with God’s. Does it really matter who molds our thinking? Why is it beneficial that we allow God to mold our thinking? Why do some people refuse to allow God to mold their thinking? And how can we protect ourselves from developing the thinking of this world?

•

Consider the situation between Jesus and Peter. Jesus, the one they expected to restore Israel’s kingdom, said that he would soon suffer and die. It was the apostle Peter who spoke up. “Be kind to yourself, Lord,” he said. “You will not have this happen to you at all.” Jesus countered: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me, because you think, not God’s thoughts, but those of men.”—Matt. 16:21-23; Acts 1:6. Jesus made a distinction between thoughts that originate with God and thoughts that originate with this world under Satan’s control. (1 John 5:19) Peter echoed the self-sparing attitude of the world. But Jesus knew that his Father’s thinking was different. He knew that God wanted him to brace himself for the suffering and death that awaited him. Jesus' instant reply was a clear rejection of that worldly thinking, in favor of the thinking of his father. It's not always easy to align our thinking or viewpoint to God's. Actually, doing so requires a deliberate effort. On the other hand, it's all too easy to absorb the world’s thinking. That is because the spirit of the world is all around us. (Eph. 2:2) and because it often appeals to self-interest, the world’s way of thinking can be enticing.

•

Why might some actually resist allowing someone to mold their thinking? It's a growing trend lately, this whole "do what you want", "don't let anyone tell you what to do", “I think for myself,” movement. They want to make their own decisions and that is proper to do so. They do not wish to be controlled, nor do they want to surrender their individuality. But really, even the most independent of thinkers cannot avoid being influenced. Whether contemplating something so profound as the origin of life or simply deciding what to wear, people are to some degree affected by others. We can, however, choose whom we will allow to influence us. We're not giving up our individuality by molding our view point and thinking to that of God's. Much the opposite. 2 Corinthians 3:17 brings out that where the spirit of God is, there is freedom. God allowed us the freedom to develop unique personalities, and interestes. But there are some restrictions. When it comes to issues of right and wrong, God wants us to be guided by his thinking as revealed in his Word. Is this overly restrictive, or is it beneficial?

•

Considering something everyone of us is familiar with. That of parents and children. Parents set rules, rules to protect and guide their children. They try to instill values in them to be honest, considerate, and kind people. They're not being restrictive, no, they're trying to raise their children to be capable adults. If the children choose to live within the values that they learned from their parents, they will be more likely to make decisions that they will not later regret. As a result, they will be free from many self-induced troubles and anxieties. God is that parent. He is our Father. Like a good parent, God wants his children to have the most fulfilling life possible. He therefore provides basic principles for moral conduct and for behavior toward others. In such matters he invites us to cultivate his very way of thinking and to share his values. It helps us make choices that lead to happiness while still allowing us to blossom as individuals. In the long run, it is beneficial for us.

•

While the world as tried to offer advice on moral conduct, family relationships, job satisfaction, and other aspects of life. Much of it is out of harmony with godsG thinking. For example, self-promotion is often encouraged. So is tolerance of sexual immorality. Separation and divorce for frivolous reasons are sometimes advised as a means of achieving greater happiness. Not even the growing advancing technology, or higher education (nothing can be as high as learning about God though. Isa. 55:9) but none of it has been able to solve the major problems that stand in the way of happiness, such as war, racism, and crime. Moses, for example, was educated “in all the wisdom of the Egyptians,” he looked to God for “a heart of wisdom.” (Acts 7:22; Ps. 90:12) He also petitioned God: “Make me know your ways.” (Ex. 33:13) The apostle Paul was an intelligent and learned man, yet, when it came to matters of principle, he rejected worldly wisdom. Instead, he based his reasoning on the Scriptures.

•

So how can we avoid having how thoughts molded to the world? For one, we must stop taking into our minds ideas or viewpoints that are in opposition to God’s. And we need to start taking in God's thoughts, his words through the Bible. We need to dwell and meditate on how He views things. We cant serve two masters. But it's impossible to avoid contact with the world entirely, after all kids need to go to school, and we need to go to work. Some exposure to its ideas is inescapable. However, where contact with ungodly views is unavoidable, we certainly need not entertain them or accept them. Like Jesus, we should be quick to reject thoughts that serve Satan’s purpose.

•

But we can protect ourselves from unnecessary exposure. One way, is that we should exercise caution when choosing our close friends. The Bible warns that if we keep close company with people who do not worship God, their thinking will rub off on us. Take King Solomon for example. God gave him wisdom. But King Solomon was influenced by his foreign wives and was lead astray from God to worship false ones. Another thing is by being selective when choosing entertainment. By rejecting entertainment that promotes the theory of evolution, violence, or immorality, we avoid poisoning our thinking with ideas that are against the knowledge of God. We need to be very careful. Satan likes to make things appear harmless, sudtle. For example, a news report might be angled in such a way so as to favor certain political opinions. Some movies and books promote the “me first” and “family first” philosophies, making them seem reasonable, appealing, even right. Even some children’s stories, though otherwise unobjectionable, may subtly lay the groundwork for accepting immoral behavior. One of the lady's in my congregation, who has a 5 year old, mentioned that Clifford, you know, the big red dog, well in one of the books recently has mentioned Cliffords dad having a boyfriend. Even directed to little kids now, they're trying to make it all acceptable. The feminist movement, one I'll admit I got caught up in, while the idea is great- considering God had intended women to be respected and treated equal- has a few snares. One is the topic of abortion. They cover it with the saying "Her body, her choice" But that's that same selfish reasoning that Peter had showed.

•

Remember, there are basically two sources of information—God and the world under Satan’s control. By which source are we being molded? The answer is, the source from which we obtain information. If we take in the world’s ideas, these will mold our thinking, inclining us toward fleshly points of view and behavior. That is why it is vital that we guard what we allow our minds to dwell on.

[ohleander]

3.3.22

I've had a wild string of pretty good days and today my head really is so full of so many thoughts. I think I've handled most everything pretty well today though. As always, I feel like I could have done so many things better but man, my capacity is becoming clearer and clearer to me as time goes on. I think my energy as a 20-somthing wasn't necessarily limitless, but rather I pushed myself past my limit way too often.. I'm sure I just actually existed past my limit for years.. no wonder I've been so tired these past few years.

In my mind, my current house is my "vacation house".. I've been able to see life as a vacation ever since I arrived here. The privacy, the forest, the untouched land. Its al felt so clear. Now that things are changing and the neighborhood is on its way in, things do feel different. It almost feels like the last few days of vacation before you reluctantly have to get back to the real world. Only All of my signs in life seem to point to life staying a vacation. Perhaps its all about perspective. My horoscope continuously tells me that all my hard fought blessings are coming. I will wait patiently.. and hopefully with a clear head. My head feels awfully full today still. Racing thoughts of uncertainty.. hopefulness, all my dreams, all my ambitions.

I really do believe I should be a life coach. I teeter between letting things unfold as they are and taking action, forcing things into motion.. forcing things almost never feels right. Things always unfold for me how they're supposed to. Often when I force issues, they don't turn out quite right. Its almost like a skipped record.

I am learning to be more blunt about my feelings and what I want. I believe that one day I'll be able to accurately speak my mind.

Too many things on my mind, I cant even string them together like I want. My brain keeps skipping to the next thing and the next. I literally have so many dreams and desires, it feels impossible and it squeezes in my heart a lot but I still am determined to dream the dreams. I have a feeling things are going to get quite emotional for me in the future but I also have a strong belief that I will be lovingly supported and surprised, even. I feel like I'm anxiously awaiting my next phase, and its a feeling I cant shake no matter how hard I try to not analyze and no matter how hard I try to chill.

A lot of the time my brain isn't acting the way I want it to.. or rather, my mind isn't in the state I want it to be in. Sadhguru said that in a talk once, that this is the cause of anxiety. I need to learn to just balance the masculine and the feminine. I need to balance both sides of my mind. I really do need to learn to meditate and practice yoga but I also want to start way simply. I believe I can incorporate the simplest form of both in my daily life. I really want to just exist in a meditative state. I want to flow on my path like the stream or the lava that I am. I can see myself as a lavaflow. I'm the wet flowing fire of lava, being the water/fire cusp that I am. Its neat that my moon sign, my emotions are in Capricorn.. the earth sign gives some grounding to my lavaflow.

I feel I teeter between extremes a lot. On the weekends, my brain is full but my ambition is empty.. during the week, I am ambitious (and my brain really is too full) but my mind is seriously empty with just going through the motions. My own ambitions frighten me. I fear that I cannot keep up with myself, that my flow is too hot and fast for me. I'll get soft and crack and flow again. All the grounding and all the earth energy in the world cant cool my flow.

As much as I'd rather not admit it, one of my very biggest aspirations is finding a partner in life. And I am persnickety. I am waiting for the very right person. That perfect compliment. I fear my standards are so high but I also feel like I'd rather die than settle for anything I dont wholeheartedly want. It would feel unfair.. I dont want to lead someone on.. pretend I'm giving them my all when I know some pieces dont fit. Saying this feels like my relationship with work. It feels like a breakup is on the horizon..

I still wonder if I'm a good initiator.. I feel as if I am not. I usually dont initiate unless spoken to first.. I'd like to change that but I'm not sure I'm mentally ready to handle that. I know I still have people pleasing tendencies. I watch myself go along with others, knowing full well I'm going along with things that dont jive with me. I people please too fast. I'd love to go slower.

I really do want to manifest my absolute dream life. I always read about other people getting everything they want.. why not me?? Convincing myself that I deserve it is the hard part. I can say that I do but do I really believe it?

I want to believe in love with my whole body.

LM

[thefeedpost]

17 Tiny But Important Truths To Remember When You Think Life Sucks

Twenty20 / @Lesia.Valentain

Let’s be real guys, life’s a bitch sometimes. Am I right? As human beings, we experience ups and downs throughout our entire existence on this floating sphere through space. And sometimes when we’re really down in the dumps, it’s hard for us to remember the happy times because we naturally become laser-focused on the negatives.

Well, I am here to remind all of you that you don’t have to live that way. The following list was compiled from various pieces of advice I’ve received along my journey, most of which was when I was pretty down myself. Whether your struggles are current or ongoing, major or minor, I hope these little reminders will help you overcome this dark period you’re experiencing now.

1. Failing now does not make you a failure forever

Each individual will overcome several trials and tribulations throughout this lifetime, and sometimes we’re going to fail. But that does not mean that the things you try in the future will yield the same result. Finding the courage to try again shows that life will not be able to take you down easily. It will also instill a confidence in you that you may have lacked in the past, one that empowers you to take on other life challenges down the road.

2. You are not alone in your struggle

With over seven billion people on the planet, it is difficult to imagine that whatever you’re currently dealing with is your cross to bear alone. While you may never meet someone who is struggling the same way you are in the same time frame, you can take comfort in knowing others have experienced similar troubles. They may not all approach these obstacles in the same way you do, but it’s definitely comforting to know you don’t have to face this alone. You can take solace in knowing that there is hope, that it is possible to work this out….or at least move past whatever block currently exists in your path.

3. Even the small steps are significant 

It may feel like you have to solve every piece of your problem at once, but I have good news for you, my friend. Even taking the smallest steps in the right direction is helpful. Whether that’s specific to your struggle or not is your decision, but either way, things never seem as daunting in the light. Spending time with someone who brings you joy or even indulging in a new hobby could be a small step that leads you to find greater happiness.

4. You have people who love and support you

Ah, friends, family, loved ones in general. They’re your fellow human beings you can count on to have your back in times of struggle. Whether that’s a shoulder to cry on or a body to bury, rest easy knowing that you are not alone in your fight and these people will be there to love you through it no matter what.

5. It is okay to reach out for help

Now, because you know for a fact that you are not alone in these trying times, there is absolutely nothing wrong with making the effort to reach out to those people. It is so common to feel like a burden or a PITA (pain in the ass) by dumping your drama on your loved ones, but I assure you, you are neither of those things. There is a subsection in the contract that is your friendship with each of these individuals that ensures you they will be there should you need it. It’s quite literally part of the job description. So, stop holding back worries that you’ll be a bother to them. I can promise you that if they know you well, they can already tell something’s up anyway and will want to do whatever they can to get you back to where you need to be.

6. Some of the most successful people have been where you are

Everyone knows the success stories of those like Steve Jobs, Michael Jordan, and Oprah. But it was not something that happened overnight. Each of them experienced rough patches on their path before finding their individual successes. So it comes as no surprise that one of the points in this article would be that you too can be successful. Whether that be in your career, in love, or your life in general, each of their success stories is proof that you too can escape your current reality and work to make a better one for yourself.

7. The suck is temporary (Mostly)

Nothing lasts forever, right? At least that’s what we’ve always been told. And while it usually carries a negative connotation, in this case, it can really be a good thing. For the most part, whatever you’re currently going through will not last forever either. You will find moments of happiness and there will be times when it feels like things are on the rise. Hold on to those feelings and use them as motivation to get you out of your funk.

8. Get that shit out

Cry. Scream. Throw things. (Just not at other people, please…) Whatever it is you need to do, get that anger and sadness out of your heart. It will feel impossible to achieve true happiness if you are constantly bogged down by negativity. So go out in the field and smash that printer “Office Space” style, you’ll thank yourself for it.

9. Don’t dwell on it

As important as it is to work all that shit out of your system, it is JUST as important to recognize when you’ve exceeded your threshold of stress, emotions, whatever. A person can only take so much. Only so much can be said or done about a subject before it is time to accept that you’ve made all the effort you can and to move on with your life. Do not continue wasting energy on something that has already proved to suck the life right out of you.

10. Appreciate every good thing that happens

One good thing about being sad is that anytime something good happens, it can feel like a small victory. This can be anything from getting complimented by a stranger to having a mental breakthrough, or maybe even a creative one. Happiness comes in all forms, and even the tiniest glimpse of hope can put you in a better frame of mind. Accepting the good things that happen to you will also have a positive effect on your self esteem, giving you more confidence for the future.

11. You live and you learn.

A man named Malcolm Gladwell once said, “A lot of what is most beautiful about the world arises from struggle.” You will never experience something tough that does not teach you something. About other people, about yourself, etc. The lessons here are the most important, they are what we take with us once the tough part has ended. It’s the advice we go on to give others who struggle with the same things. Each and every point in this article is a different lesson I have learned throughout my life.

12. Times of struggle often teach us who we really are

You will never know yourself better than when it’s you against the world. Now I know that I said earlier that you would always have love and support from those closest to you, and that’s true. However, at the end of the day, no one in this life makes decisions for you but you. Regardless of advice given or feelings had by others, you will have to look deep inside yourself and find the determination to continue rising up. And in doing that, we all learn SO MUCH about ourselves. The process of our problem solving, our emotions, our ability to deal with change..People always say we should be our own best friends. I believe that, and I believe that in times of struggle you have the potential to build a bond with your soul that truly becomes unbreakable.

13. You have a unique purpose here

Every single one of us is put on this planet at this moment for some undiscovered reason. Some may never truly figure out their soul’s purpose, but we all know how to recognize someone who has. It’s easy to forget just how important you are, and how impactful your existence is to not only those around you but to this world. Maybe you’ll be the one to discover the cure for cancer, or maybe you’re going to create beautiful masterpieces that go down in history, bringing humanity to tears. Maybe you’re simply here because someone else needs you to be. Just like our quest to understand our own purpose, we rarely grasp the perspective understand just how much our presence matters to others. You matter, and you truly never know where the future could lead.

14. Exercise is good!! Or just any physical activity really…

Being sedentary does you very little good, my friend. Too often we find ourselves hidden away from the world in times of turmoil. It’s much easier to sit around watching Netflix, eating cold mac and cheese until you explode when considering the idea of actually going out and doing something when you’re depressed. Physical activity can be anything from simply taking a walk outside to yoga to taking a full-on kickboxing class. We release endorphins into our systems when we exercise, and their job is to help amp up the happiness level inside our brains. Aside from that, being active opens up more chances to meet new people, and to work through the shit hanging around inside our heads in a constructive way.

15. At the end of the day, there’s always meditation (Pro Advice via TinyBuddha’s Benson Wong)

THIS! Guys, I cannot tell you how many times I have been given this same advice. It took me literal years to yield it, and when I finally did I was shocked. I have never felt more at ease in my life! Clearing your mind to a calm state while sitting comfortably deep in thought is so cleansing for the mind and for the soul. It can give you clarity, but can also just keep you calm. There are zero negative effects from doing meditation. And you can do it whenever you’d like! As soon as you get a rhythm for it down, you could plop down in just about any space and get your brain thinking in the right direction.

16. Ultimately, you and only you are in control of your life

Sometimes unfortunate circumstances bring us down, but only you say how long you’ll stay down for. Happiness is a state of mind, my dears, and we all have to make our own efforts to bring us back to it. No matter how many times someone tells you that you have to get up, you have to get back out there, until you make the conscious effort to, it won’t happen. When you think about it that way though, it should bring you comfort. If you and only you decide how drastically something affects you, then you and only you can decide how to react. And learning how you react to things can open up so much space for you in regards to how you deal when the negativity train pulls into the station.

17. What have you got to lose?

That’s the real question, isn’t it? We have the opportunity every single day to decide that we want to get out of this funk, that this darkness we’ve lived in for so long just isn’t worth putting up with anymore. It can be very scary standing up to your demons, big or small. But I can tell you this from personal experience, nothing is scarier than staying there. Being stagnant in your unhappiness, hoping for either the end or a miracle to bring you out. It is times like those that we have to look ourselves in the mirror and decide what it is we’re willing to do to ultimately escape our own mental prison. Think about it: What do you really have to lose? If you want to find happiness again, take action to seek it. Happiness will find you.

While each of these points focused on different sections of your life, I meant what I said before about you retaining control of what kind of mind frame you choose to maintain. If you know in your heart that you want to be happy, then you fight and fight and fight until you feel it. Not just for a minute or so; give yourself more than that. Fight until happiness overwhelms you with its warmth and comfort, making you wonder why you waited so long to take that first step. No one will be able to deter you from your path once you’ve found it, not even you. And once you have it in your sights, I promise you all the struggle and darkness will be worth it.

As the wise Nas once said, “Once you make it to your point of making it, you’ll appreciate the struggle.”

Read more: thoughtcatalog.com

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[jayantharde]

10-TRAITS OF SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE

Successful people have a few common characteristics that make them great. Not every successful person can be a master of all these but awareness of them can help in increasing these qualities in ourselves.

Following are the 10 common traits exhibited by successful people that I have observed across various fields including sports, business, and arts.

1. Self-Discipline

I put this at the top of the list simply because without self-discipline nothing is possible. Self-discipline is a quality that can be developed by having a clear idea on what we want and then ensuring the desire to succeed is greater than the consequences of not doing it. If we want to exercise 5 times a week then we can imagine the enormous benefits of exercise and visualize that while trying to keep the end goal in mind. If we want to achieve all the things we want then self-discipline is the best place to start and we have 100% control on this. It is resolving to do what we have set out to accomplish in both our personal and official lives. Napoleon Hill said “Self-discipline is the Master Key to Riches.” Nido Qubein said “The price of discipline is always less than the pain of regret.”

2. Belief

Roger Federer won his eighth Wimbledon. It is amazing considering the fact that most critics had written him off. You know what he said after his victory. He said “I kept believing and dreaming.” The key is to believe in yourself when no one else does. If you listen to your critics you can’t achieve what you want. Be relentless in the pursuit of your goals and never listen to your critics. “Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.”

3. Resilience

Angela Lee Duckworth of the University of Pennsylvania says that grit is the single quality that guarantees success, based on her ground breaking studies. As Napoleon Hill famously observed “Every adversity carries with it the seed of an equivalent benefit.” For example a sickness might seem horrible but maybe that time away may have helped you redefine what is important and given the time needed to make a change. There are going to be setbacks like we may not get the promotion we wanted but having patience and perseverance never goes out of fashion. Talent will not take the place of persistence and resilience. Steve Jobs is a great example of this. He was fired from the company he started but in his wilderness he started another company NeXT and bought Pixar. Then he patiently waited for his second coming to Apple and as they say the rest is history. You can be down but never out. As the Japanese proverb says “Fall down seven times, Get up eight times.”

4. Passion and Practice

Passion is the fuel behind the success engine. We can look no further than Roger Federer or Tiger Woods to understand the value of passion. To sight one example at the top of his career Tiger Woods who had already reached the apex of sporting achievement actually changed his style of swing because he wanted to get the extra edge. This was after winning the Masters tournament by a record 12 strokes in 1997. He said “You can have a wonderful week…even when your swing isn’t sound. But can you still contend in tournaments with that swing when your timing isn’t good? Will it hold up over a long period of time? The answer to these questions, with the swing I had, was no. And I wanted to change that.” Passion can ignite reservoirs of resilience that may lay latent. Tiger Woods didn’t play golf for the money though that helped, he played it for the love. Passion can happen when we do something we love but as a beginning we should start loving what we do and giving our very best every single day. Research has confirmed that all prodigies including Mozart, Woods, Bill Gates, The Beatles had practiced for 10,000 hours before they were crowned for their achievement. Mozart didn’t produce his first master piece till he was 21 by which time he had put in more than 10,000 hours of effort. My simple formula is Passion+Deliberate Practice+Time+Consistency= Success.

As documented in the wonderful book Mastery by Robert Greene Bill Bradley became great in basketball because of his absolute passion to practice more than anyone else. In other words he moved towards resistance. Bill Bradley used to practice three and a half hours after school and on Sundays, eight hours every Saturday, and three hours a day during the summer. He kept practicing well beyond any feeling of boredom or pain. “The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat.” Richard Marcinko

5. Curiosity

One of the best kept secrets of the highly successful people is the ability to keep learning something new every day in their field or related fields. The hallmark of learning is curiosity. Peter Drucker the father of modern management is an excellent example of someone who kept learning till the end of his life. He was always learning something new. When we learn something every day it keeps our mind sharp and it also gives a sense of accomplishment as we are using our time wisely. There is no end to this journey of continuous learning.

One great example of creativity and curiosity is Jony Ive of Apple. I recently read about how he masterminded Apple’s new headquarters. Norman Foster, whose architecture firm was hired by Apple to build the headquarters at a reported cost of $5 billion, calls him “a poet.” Here is what he said about Jony Ive in this WSJ piece WSJ article on Jony Ive. He said ‘‘Jony works tirelessly at the detail, evolving, improving, refining. For me, that makes him a poet.’’

Peter Drucker said “The only thing that will not be obsolete is learning new skills.” “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” Mahatma Gandhi

6. Risk Taking

All successful people have taken calculated risks to reach where they are. Risks need not be things like bungee jumping or sky diving; in fact it need not even be physical in nature. It goes with your intuition. It may require taking up an assignment which everyone has refused. This then helps you stand apart and has potential to propel your career. There is no guarantee in life so before taking a risk analyze the risk and see if you are already prepared for it to fail, then it is worth taking that risk. While taking risks it is important to remember that we don’t put our families into distress. “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” ― T.S. Eliot.

7. Prioritization

Everyone has a list of tasks to be completed. Sometimes we don’t have enough time to get through everything. The way to overcome that is the key to success. We need to prioritize the relevant from the irrelevant. From a list of items pick the item which has the biggest impact from your stakeholder, business sponsor and your immediate boss. Work on the worst first and get it out of the way. Handle the big rocks first and the pebbles can be taken care later. Make peace with the fact that there will be always things left undone and it is also imperative to learn to say no to time wasters and activities which are not aligned with your goals. We should also learn to say no when needed so that we are not over committed and this gives better control over our time. One example is Jack Welch who decided that GE will only participate in businesses where they can be Number one or Number two in that market. This vision led to closure of many other business units and worked big time for GE. “One of the very worst uses of time is to do something very well that need not be done at all.”

8. Communication

Most of our waking time is spent communicating both written and verbal. We need to be clear on what to communicate and we should learn what the best mode of communication is. One of the ways to improve communication is to become a better listener and understand the other person’s point of view. As Stephen Covey said “Seek first to understand then be understood.” Keep reading, writing continuously to improve communication skills. Ronald Reagan was known as the great communicator. Irrespective of which side of the political isle you sit we have to admire his simple communication strategy. His answer to everything was simple “smaller government.” Clarity is the key to communicating effectively. “The most important thing in communication is hearing what isn’t said.” Peter Drucker

9. Personal Care

I have noticed that a lot of successful people take care of themselves better. They ensure that there is proper rest and balance in life. If you want to achieve all you want out of your life you need to ensure that you are at your best most of the time. Energy is required to go forward towards your closely cherished dreams. Exercise, yoga, meditation are all helpful in the enhancement of health. One often neglected part of health is adequate sleep. I don’t think lack of sleep is something to wear a badge and brag about. In fact you can be at your best only with 7-8 hours of sleep. Taking some time off from work actually improves your creativity and research has proven that people get their most innovative ideas not at work but during a vacation or when they are in a relaxed state of mind. “Rest and self-care are so important. When you take time to replenish your spirit, it allows you to serve others from the overflow. You cannot serve from an empty vessel.” Eleanor Brownn

Positive Mental Attitude.

It is impossible to imagine a really well rounded successful person who is negative and complaining all the time. All successful people generally have a positive attitude. They don’t complain when things don’t go their way as they know that in the long run most of the things take care of themselves. We should look at the sunny side of life. Being grateful for what we have while striving for more is actually a great way to stay positive. When you are positive about the day you just get on with the accomplishment of your tasks with even more vigor.

Finally a positive mental attitude eventually helps performance at work and home. Nothing is more important than your inner peace and overall happiness. “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; the optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.” Sir Winston Churchill

10. Self Esteem

Self-esteem is the cornerstone of a healthy personality. It is important to be comfortable in your own skin. Self-esteem is defined as your reputation with yourself. You are unique and have talents that can help you succeed. The key to self-esteem is to write down the qualities you admire in yourself. Maybe you have passion or discipline, in which case acknowledging your positive traits enhances your self-esteem. When setbacks occur while you may feel bad it doesn’t reduce your self-esteem. Write down all your successes till now and keep track of your accomplishments. This surely enhances self-esteem. The true hindrance to high self-esteem is comparing ourselves with others. There are not two persons who are alike. So no matter how much we try we cannot be like anyone else. So be totally comfortable with yourself and who you are. When you have high self-esteem you generally feel more positive about life and do better at work. “Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.” Norman Vincent Peale

There you have it the 10 traits of highly successful people. An awareness of them increases our chances of success as well. Thanks for reading this post.

To know more about 10-TRAITS OF SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE, kindly contact Jayant Harde on 9373284136 or +91 7122282029. You can also visit our website: www.jayantharde.com

Source: https://hardejayant.blogspot.com/2020/12/10-traits-of-successful-people.html