#the experience and the years and the wisdom to teach me everything i want to know. i need to know.

[bas-rouge]

How do I tell a breeder I have to push back my "ready to bring a puppy home" time by a few years because I came to terms with the fact that my mentor, whose mentorship I value so so so so deeply, is in a different breed that I feel better suits my present situation but I still want a puppy from this breeder just... later?

[charmedreincarnation]

I shifted and manifested with your Morphics challenge !!!!!

I am sharing this on an alternate account because I don’t feel comfortable posting on my main account. I want to continue using my main account so, I hope that’s okay.

I’ve been in the LOA community for a while and have consumed every piece of information. You know how it is.. I had a Reddit and TikTok shifting account and was literally helping people shift with my advice. But aside from maybe slightly hearing or seeing my DR, I had never succeeded, and even that was years ago.

I’ve gotten lazier yet more somehow ambitious since 2020 when I first started this journey, which is insane because you know how when you first find out about shifting, you have a lot of symptoms and almost do it, but then months and years pass, and you’re more desperate yet doing the same useless things. It was like that. I was enlightened; I could spew every method to you backwards, studied many years from teachers like Neville Goddard, Joseph Murphy, Florence Scovel Shinn, Wayne Dyer, Earl Nightingale, Louise Hay, Esther Hicks (Abraham-Hicks), Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Wallace D. Wattles, Rhonda Byrne—okay, everyone and their teachers. I also spent so much money on paid subliminals, meditations, teacher personal subscriptions, witch spells, lucid dreaming supplements, etc., but there are some things money can’t buy, so really, don’t waste your money lol.

I’m not here to be wise and do nothing with that wisdom, so I realized maybe instead of trying to do everything so mighty and intricate and be pretentious in my intelligence, let me try something so simple I would be shocked if it worked. Then I came across a post that was like, "Everyone is going to shift in September," and I almost cried because I have been trying for almost 5 years. I’ve given everything, and I was starting to think LOA is a cult because, let’s be real, it checks off all the things of a cult:

1. Charismatic Leaders: Many LOA teachings are popularized by charismatic figures who attract devoted followings, similar to leaders in cults.

2. Promised Benefits: LOA often promises significant personal benefits, like wealth and happiness, which can be enticing and lead to strong adherence.

3. Community and Belonging: Followers of LOA often form tight-knit communities, sharing experiences and supporting each other, which can resemble the communal aspect of cults.

4. Us vs. Them Mentality: Some LOA teachings might create a divide between "believers" and "non-believers," fostering an exclusive mindset.

5. Simplistic Solutions: The idea that simply thinking positively can solve complex life issues might be seen as an oversimplification, similar to some cult ideologies.

It’s almost religious, but most people are religious, and you know what? Without faith in something, people might have probably just (TW) killed themselves. Everyone has some kind of cult behavior—religious, politics, loyalty to family who don’t love or respect them. At this point, if it was a cult, I guess I was okay with that. Hopefully, the belief would at least give some sort of false comfort. Because having awareness and enlightenment and still suffering is even worse. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Then I came across your challenge, and tbh I had tried every subliminal, meditation, binaural beat, etc., so at first, I thought, how will this be any different? But then I saw the LOA Bella success story, and I just felt this was my calling because I had never related to a success story so much. I wanted to cry because it felt like a sign.

This isn’t a very exciting or good story, but all I did was:

Morning
https://youtu.be/gOpZAPo8VvU?si=FA2oxWQkR6l2KU_M

During the day (together)
https://youtu.be/67T-wX2iqfM?si=-f-TvsYyQ_D-od1L
https://youtu.be/xwaSBZFucGg?si=8-XLLROuoIypBSu0

Overnight
https://youtu.be/uBHMmHbQwa0?si=h01rp0Ngdl7Xhv9C

Basically I had a lucid dream and woke up in my waiting room because I had used lucid dreams to get into the void state, but they were also fake voids, and it was annoying to think, "Wow, I’m going to wake up with my dream life," and then fail. So I was taking no chances. I had a dream I was at work, and this lazy girl was being lazy as usual but an actual nuisance. We were outside, and I was like, "Wait, I don’t work outside," and then I got too excited, so I started jumping around and did a backflip because I heard that helps stabilize the dream. Then I commanded my annoying coworker to take me to a portal, and she did. I envisioned my waiting room and set the intention that when I close my eyes and enter the portal, I would wake up in my WR. I walked through, and then I fell. I was scared to open my eyes, so I affirmed just in case as I fell, and I heard the beach waves, and I knew it was there.

I only did this for manifesting purposes because then I intended to shift back to the same reality but where I had my dream life and master shifting abilities and void ability.

Honestly, I was so depressed at that point I didn’t particularly have any dreams or aspirations, so I didn’t know what would make me happy, as sad as it sounds. But I just slid into my WR bed and set the intention because I knew anything is possible in my WR and fell asleep. When I woke up, I woke up in a brand new house with a brand new family in a beautiful room.

Now, like I said, I didn’t have any intentions, so for the last few days, I’ve been having so many surprises and things happening that I now realize, of course, I would want this. I am just very happy, and I can’t believe it was so easy after almost 4 years.

I don’t have any stupid enlightenment advice that I would have thought I would have when I finally succeeded. As stupid and cult-like as it sounds, don’t give up—something will click.

That's amazing! I'm so happy for you and your success :)) and I am even more happy that you’ve found happiness when you don’t even know what you wantedand that it worked out.

I had a very similar experience and what I took from this is to be open to experimenting with different methods because what might not work today could be the key tomorrow and it can seem random.

I wish you the best with your dream life and I hope you continue to find happiness in different ways

[elysiansparadise]

Hi again! Can you tell me what does Jupiter in 9th house mean besides being drawn to religion and philosophy? Already thank you for the answer!

Hello love. Sure, I can tell you about this placement.

Jupiter in the 9th house

This astrological position shows a native with a fascinating mind, not only because of the high intelligence they have, but also because of the inquisitive attitude that the wearer has. They tend to be curious people, quick to learn and with immense enthusiasm for new and complex ideas. They are attracted by the strange, the new, what is not as simple as it seems. They are fascinated with intellectual challenges, with what keeps their mind in constant learning. They feel driven by that desire for personal growth, to know themselves and create a path in which to become the person they aspire to be. They question everything around them from a very young age. Many of them, although they appreciate points of view different from their own, will always seek to find what resonates most with them, they seek to define the truth on their own. It is worth mentioning that these natives, from a very early age, have that sense of justice deeply embedded in them, not hesitating to speak their minds when something is not correct under their moral compass. Likewise, they will never try to control other people, allowing them to express themselves and be authentic.

They tend to be people with a lot of knowledge in different areas and can stand out a lot for their intelligence and skills in a specific area. It predicts great success for them in their college student years, whether due to the experiences they will live, socially or academically. Academically they may not have significant problems, and, if Jupiter is well aspected, they may be easily liked and appreciated by teachers. These natives will be good at research, teaching, psychology or in general any activity that puts their mind into action. Many of these natives have a passion and talent for writing, and may be presented with the possibility of publishing or presenting their work to others. It is very likely that these natives have the ability to learn languages, as well as a taste for cultures other than their own. There are great possibilities of traveling abroad, attracting friends, mentors or influential people in your lives who come from other countries. They will not like simplistic or very mundane concepts, as they will prefer to choose to delve into the depths of something, and this not only applies to their interests, but also to themselves and other people. Something that is said a lot about this placement is that long trips are not only exclusive to the physical, but also to the spiritual and personal.

With Jupiter in this house it is common for people to choose to study things related to the humanities, social sciences, law or topics related to the law. Many of them have the philosophy of either doing things well or not doing them at all, and that is something they apply in different areas of their life. Despite how open-minded they can be, they are very blunt and clear people when it comes to their beliefs. They have very well defined what they want and do not want in their lives and what they are not willing to experience again. They may have a strong inclination towards spirituality and the search for universal truth. People can explore different religions, spiritual practices or even philosophical currents. Being in one of its domicile houses, Jupiter can shine easily, bringing luck, opportunities and a lot of wisdom to the life of the native. Ideas are very likely to come spontaneously to your minds, especially when you least look for them. They can easily be inspired by things that others don't see appeal or greatness in. They know how to appreciate the little things in life.

[gattnk]

Arkan and Temptel embody everything a guardian should be.

Here they are, everyone's favorite teachers! Hands down the most iconic and beloved adults in both the comic and series, and with good reason: this pair is perfectly balanced in terms of design and personality, so I had to do them justice with my redesigns. I'm super proud of how they came out :D

My first step was comparing the comic designs to their show counterparts. The biggest difference for Arkan was his age: he was visibly older in the series, and I'd argue this decision was made so his character design would reflect his wisdom and authority better, and I'd focus on reflecting this notion. Meanwhile, Temptel saw little to no change, and I couldn't agree more with this decision made by the show staff: don't fix what ain't broke!

Teaching is all about theory and practice: knowing the rules and testing them out. I wanted Arkan to embody theory, and in turn Temptel would represent practice; it aligns with the role of angels and devils perfectly (who in turn represent "thinking slow" VS "thinking fast", respectively). As such, I decided Arkan would look more austere and grounded compared to Temptel's impeccably chaotic fashion.

Arkan's new outfit is based on pilot uniforms to evoke authority and discipline. The trench coat, foulard ascot and Oxford dress shoes override the military coding and turn it into classy and elegant. The reading glasses convey he's prepared to observe and learn. I wanted to convey experience, wisdom and authority without incurring on the old mentor trope. In character design, there's many ways of relying the same message!

"Spooky chic" came back with a vengeance! I love me some "spooky chic", which is definitely a staple of devil fashion at this point. I synthetized the shapes and details as much as I could for the sake of serialization: if this character had to be drawn over and over again in a comic or cartoon, a simpler but iconic design would make a big difference on the long run. I know I'd be grateful ;P

Arkan's color palette is a more desaturated version of Raf's, sans the red. I added warm brown tones and a bright orange (same color as Temptel's eyes!) to contrast all the blueish grey. I chose to make his cardigan a very muted color so it would complement the lighter tones much better.

Temptel's colors are a mix of her two palettes: her skin, hair and physical features take after the comic, while her wings, horns and dress are more purple like in the show. Her silver jewelry is a callback to Sulfus as well. Lastly, Temptel's makeup is the same blue as Arkan's eyes, but with the saturation value cranked up to the max.

Random tidbits that went into the design process: despite being younger than his show version, I wanted to keep Arkan's hair color light to complement Temptel's more saturated and darker colors. While I don't think he counts as an accurate representation of real albinism/achromia, I definitely coded him that way. As for Temptel, I thought sneaking in a little treat for her was appropriate, since she's the type of teacher who mixes work with fun: it's also a nod to her sweet tooth in the comics.

I believe this will be my last redesign duo this year since I want to focus on commissions and the holidays, but I'll definitely continue working on the rest of the Golden School staff. Wish me luck and let's see what the future brings :D

I'll Fly With You (rewrite fic) Art masterpost

[mirabai0821]

Confession? Go see a priest.

Pairings: Tav x Halsin x Astarion Rating: Gen Summary: One does not fault a rose for needing both earth and sun. Or Tav passess out after confessing her love to both elves.

“Well, that was dramatic.” Astarion tried to sound light but all the biting sarcasm he meant to deploy had been hollowed out of his words. She scraped all the artifice from him, leaving him without the shield of his dry humor. Now whatever was said had to sink into him, finally forcing him to deal with whatever emotions got stuck.

“Now Astarion,” strangely, though, the levity Astarion could not find had made its way to Halsin. Once again Tav had humbled him. Three hundred and fifty years of wisdom and experience but this fragile, short-lived little thing managed to teach him something wholly new. He felt so absurd it turned a corner into amusing. The smile Astarion could not muster would not leave Halsin’s face. “Surely you, of all people would think declarations of love should be dramatic?” 

“Fair point, I do love the theatricality of it all, right down to the timely faint.”

As Tav, slept, the elves sat in silence.

“Well?” Halsin asked.

“Well what?”

Halsin glared. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you meant to ask, ‘Is there a way?’”

Halsin kept glaring. 

“Well, do you think there is? Why am I the one forced to come up with an answer? This better not be your way of designating me 'the one with all the answers' in this little triad of ours.”

Halsin chuffed, amused. "A simple 'yes' would've done."

"Oh darling, you're gonna learn quickly I am nothing simple."

"All the better then. I like a challenge."

Astarion waved an accusatory finger in Halsin's face.

“Don’t you get any ideas, you oaf. I can barely sort out my feelings for this one,” he thrust that finger back at Tav. “Much less my feelings for you.”

Halsin's added his eyebrows to his hairline. “And are there feelings?”

“Of course there are.” He began to list them off his fingers like a mother’s shopping list. “Jealousy, envy, spite, a not inconsiderable amount of lust, more jealousy and…”

Halsin winced, dreading the rest. 

“Appreciation. Friendship. Maybe even affection if you squint.”

Halsin blushed. “Astarion.”

“No, I mean it. You were there for her when I couldn’t be." The dry humor bled away again, honesty taking up its place. "I’m not…strong. Not like you or the others. I wanted her to protect me, but when she needed protection it was you that stepped in. I'll never forget that.”

“You are stronger than you look, little star. But should ever that strength fail you, look to me.”

It was Astarion’s turn to blush. “You’re not gonna confess now too are you? I can only handle one confessional per day. You’ll have to wait, or see a priest.”

“Like you, I’ll only confess to lust and affection…for now at least.” Halsin hummed thoughtfully, fixing a serious stare on the paler elf. “She loves you, Astarion. That alone would have been enough for me but it’s more than that. I don't care for you for love of her. I care for you for well... you.”

“You are confessing!” Astarion feigned a scandalized gasp.

“Maybe I am,” he relented. “But I think not yet. My heart hopes though, that we can figure that out together.”

At long last, after this whole whirlwind of a day, a grin as wide and deep as the Chionthar broke across the vampire’s face. It stretched so far it hurt. But it was the good pain though, the kind that’s good for the body. “Oh, how blessed am I to receive two lovers in a day where most only get one,” he preened, his words wholly and earnestly absent of even a hint of sarcasm. He meant what he said to Tav that day. She made him want everything. And now that included the elf on the other side of her. Starved for love, desperate for it, and now, in the span of minutes he had a surfeit of it. But with him, and his thirst, he could drink it all. And with them, he knew he'd never be thirsty again.

[sucksinlosers]

My Beauty and the Beast wires got crossed with my BG3 wires because I saw that one show where Josh Groban was the prince and thought 'oh that looks ever so vaguely like a wizard I like if I squint at him' (just stick with me for a second)

What if the prince's fatal flaw is not vanity, but ceaseless ambition. The ambition to know everything at the cost of even himself. Is approached by a poor old lady who offers him an apprenticeship but she doesn't impress him; her magic is basic, he's seen it all before, he already mastered all of this ages ago.

Syke! The poor old lady is Mystra! She curses him with something as sure to destroy him as his ceaseless ambition if left unchecked: a ball of volatile magic buried deep in his chest where his heart should have been, clawing and tearing at his insides as sure as any beast. It will eat him from the inside if he does not learn how to humble himself, share his knowledge instead of hoarding it like a dragon hoards gold (or something, I don't want to make Mystra the good guy here, but this is the best I have for now. Bear with me).

The prince searches endlessly for a way to quell the volatile magic inside him, but his knowledge does not offer him a solution. He locks himself away in his tower for years and slowly begins resigning himself to his fate. His loyal tressym still ventures out into the world on occasion, searching for a way to slow the decay of her friend's body.

Until one day, a curious sorcerer visits the tower. They've heard tales of the Prince of Waterdeep and the knowledge and magical power he is said to possess and wants to become his apprentice. The villages warn them that the Prince hasn't been seen in forever, and even if he had, he had never taken on an apprentice before, too ambitious and arrogant to share his wisdom and knowledge with anyone else.

But the sorcerer is nothing if not stubborn.

The prince hates them, at first. How dare they do magic so swiftly and easily, how dare they just innately know how to do any of this?! Don't they know that true magical mastery needs to be cultivated over years and years of study, of gathering knowledge, honing your skills?

But the sorcerer shows them that, uhm, no? There's a wildness and majesty in magic that you can't learn from study. Maybe you should try it sometimes. Get your nose out of a book and live a little.

They come together through finding balance because while the sorcerer is happy, their magic is also wild and dangerous. The prince teaches them, at first reluctantly, then out of necessity (the sorcerer nearly blows them up, or agitates the orb, or something), and later happily. Sharing knowledge is fun, actually, and the prince learns there are things he... can't really learn. Things he needs to feel and experience, instead.

Dramatic misunderstanding happens; the prince sends the sorcerer away, knowing that his time is at an end and the orb will soon consume him, but the sorcerer comes back and offers to share the burden, to split the orb between the two of them, or finds some unconventional means of quelling it.

And then they live happily ever after yaaaay

[tsukimefuku]

Some advice about choosing a career (from a burnoutee in her 30's)

I kinda talked about this already on my X/Twitter, but I figured I'd bring these thoughts here too.

If you don't know me or this is the first time you're seeing my content, hi! I'm Fuku, and I'm a criminal defense attorney irl.

Earlier this week, I suffered a pretty heavy loss at my job. Without going into any details, something bad happened to one of my clients when this person should've been taken care of by the institution they were being kept in and I wondered (like I always do when these types of things happen) if it was my fault.

You know, law school and med school are still seen as very safe bets to have a financially stable future. I cannot talk about med, but I can, from experience, talk about law -- I got to the 10-year mark now in 2024 working in law, ranging from internships, to public service related to law, to being a lawyer.

Law still is, to a great extent, a very safe degree to get -- you do have a ton of options from it. You can become a lawyer, in some places you can become a govt employee, or even teach if that's your thing (it is mine, and I already began my transition into a college teaching profession).

Now, I wanna address this... The most important thing you've gotta ask yourself if you want to be someone that is responsible for other people's wellbeing (such as a doctor is responsible for someone else's health, or a criminal defense lawyer is responsible for someone else's freedom) is this:

Are you prepared for the heavy mental load of having this degree of responsibility?

There is an extent to which everyone can make mistakes in their jobs. However, in my profession, a mistake can mean someone will be imprisoned for years, and we all know how awful life behind bars is. If the person comes out, they'll be forever marked as an ex-con, their life will NEVER be the same. From one mistake -- failing to observe a deadline, for example.

I'm not the one to suffer the dire consequences of my mistakes in my job, because my job is about other people's freedom. If I lose a deadline, it's not me who's gonna be behind bars for the foreseeable future -- they are.

That level of responsibility over other people's wellbeing constantly drives me to exhaustion, because I double, triple check everything I do to avoid having someone else losing their freedom because I did a poor job and failed them. It has taken a heavy toll on my mental health and a lot of therapy to not blame myself for things that weren't my fault. They were systemic issues within the criminal justice system itself.

Loving your job is important, it is. But loving your job isn't enough, especially when it drains the life out of you and has you panicking 24/7. I am transitioning careers because I can't stand being that heavily responsible for other people anymore. I wake up terrified and go to sleep just the same. Sometimes I dream of just being responsible for pushing meaningless data into spreadsheets and have the worst that can come from it be a roasting session. That's it.

So my nugget of wisdom for those who are still choosing a college/career path is: if you want a job that involves other people's wellbeing, take some time to consider how that will affect you, and how well do you think you'll be able to handle the losses that will inevitably happen in the future.

[navire190413]

haha i got drunk and wrote like 2,000 words about my experience with learning japanese. read it sober and just sat in front of my computer like 😐

you know when old people talk a lot and sometimes its hard to tell if they’re trying to pass on wisdom or are just kind of full of themselves and want to talk about themselves? what i wrote was definitely the latter. i’m just an おじいさん who wants to drink and smoke and talk about myself and my hard work lol

one of my favorite 居酒屋 to visit on my way home from work is closing for good this weekend. its open 24/7 so it was always great for stopping by after drinking at the bar until morning. their squid and shrimp 串カツ are soooo good. i’m actually here now typing this on my phone. this izakaya is in a basement so i don’t have signal. i just end up scrolling through my photos or blogging in my notes while sitting here alone for an hour until my favorite bar opens at 7.

the last time i came here a server ive become acquainted with hit on me, and i didn’t pick up on it at all, so my reaction was kind of dull. i only realized he was hitting on me when he turned around and all the other servers were laughing at him bc they were all eavesdropping. he probably mentioned he was gonna do it beforehand haha. i’m so sorry. i would be totally down to grab drinks if i realized sooner 😂

he always makes me turn around and show him my backpiece when im wearing tanktops and croptops. and hes always basically yelling カッコいい！！its cute how not normal tattoos are here. i would never get these reactions in america but sometimes it can be annoying. yes yes i have a lot of tattoos. yes. expensive. yes painful. and then they find out about my scarification, which honestly most people in the states have also never seen, so then its a weird balance of explaining my love for body modification and not self mutilation.

money has gotten TIGHT lately. im literally courting my ex and bringing him to izakayas and nice restaurants every week and im going broke from it so i gotta stop hahaha. we did have a really good time last night, though. and hes always really grateful and respectful when im paying. he also initiated a lot of kisses and kept kissing my cheeks last night which was weird and not like him at all. im not gonna think about it anymore tho.

i am super excited about where we’re going on saturday. its an 青森県 restaurant and i guess they get fish delivered daily from there, so i hope its super fresh and tasty 😤. i unfortunately booked too late and couldnt get a private room, but i think sitting at the counter will be nice since we’re doing the all-you-can-drink course and itll be faster to get our drinks if we’re not in a secluded room.

my go-to drink for the past 2 years living here has always been highballs, but lately theyre way too strong for me. ive become obsessed with lemon sours, but because its not whiskey in them like highballs i become drunk super super fast. good for cost performance purposes but dangerous since im used to my highball drinking pace. i usually dont black out if i only drink for 2-3 hours on a work night but the other day i drank my usual amount, just this time they were lemon sours and not highballs. i was on the verge of blacking out returning home at only 9pm on a monday 😂

i can’t stop thinking about the guy who asked me to be his girlfriend two weeks ago. he’s american and he’s nice enough, but he’s been living in japan for over a year and cant even say すみません to get a server’s attention. he also doesnt eat meat, so i cant introduce him to yakiniku and yakitori which are my go-to. everytime we hungout i had to translate everything and guide him around tokyo. i brought him to an izakaya for his first time and had to teach him the words for squid and octopus. which he promptly forgot 2 minutes later. its literally taco and ika!!! we got lost in a department store one time and i had to ask for directions while he just stood there. it always felt like i was with a child who knew nothing when we were together. as friends, im more than happy to introduce tokyo and translate. but as someone who was obviously trying to be appealing to me, it was honestly a massive ick. i have no preference when it comes to what ethnicity or cultural background someone is, but i cant date someone who knows less about japan than me. it was a good realization actually! i always say i dont have a type, but i think im slowly starting to realize my type. he doesnt have friends so he would always say “lets go out and explore tokyo together!”dude i have been experiencing tokyo for 2 years. i have my favourite spots and my favourite neighborhoods and i know how to find good restaurants and i regularly go out and just do shit by myself because i can navigate it by myself. he also was expecting me to teach him japanese which was just soooo….

when you get to a level where you’ve lived somewhere long enough and can speak the language a lot of people expect you to be a free tour guide. when it comes to strictly friends with no expectation of me, im more than happy to plan a day of sightseeing and introductions but sometimes when i make friends with foreigners it feels like that’s all they want out of me. i mean it goes both ways. a lot of japanese men just view me as a fetish object. omg a white girl who i can actually speak to!!! maybe she can teach me english!!! ive never fucked a 6 foot tall white girl with tattoos!!!

for my established friends, i happily translate stuff for them and give them english lessons but man it feels like theres a lot of expectations of me meeting people here. from foreigners and native japanese people.

i have a lot of foreign friends who have lived here longer than me and dont speak a lick of japanese and dont have any plans on learning. i dont really feel one way or the other about it. theyve been here long enough and know they can get around and have fun without knowing the language. i cant imagine how tough that is sometimes so more power to them. but its always the people complaining they want to learn and want to understand and communicate but still for some reason just dont sit down and study or make an effort to make japanese friends so they can atleast pick up conversational japanese that i dont understand. why are you not studying???? sure its hard but just do it??? you dont even have to use textbooks. apps kind of suck once you get past the basics but its at least something you can do while riding the train and then atleast i wouldnt have to order for you at the bar after youve been living here for several months!!!

im a princess and a brat and am obsessive so studying is super easy for me. i studying during my lunch breaks and anytime im riding the train. i understand thats not the case for everyone, so i try to take the time to teach my friends who want to learn japanese important phrases for day to day life. maybe textbooks and studying isnt their thing, which is fine. okay i’ll teach you as we go. but even then they dont retain anything 😂 dont complain to me about not being able to speak japanese if you’re not going to put in a little bit of effort to atleast order a beer by yourself!!!! and if youre over thinking the difference between ください and お願いします before you can even say [名前]と申します, youre thinking too much!!!!! japanese is hard. theres a lot of info. if you start getting into super specific japanese before you can do self introductions, its gonna be a long long road. so im super happy i learned japanese in america where i went textbook step by step instead of being surrounded by confusing japanese all day long. when i try to teach my friends japanese they always somehow ask me about n2 grammar. and its just like. stop. ignore that. that does NOT have anything to do with you at this time. i was N2 before N3 grammar even made sense to me (i did get full points on n3 test despite none of it making sense to me though 😂) because i finally had context for it and could make the connections. without those building blocks and going step by step id be lost. and thats why you should study the language before coming to a foreign country.

god im judgmental.

[noandpickles]

I wanna talk about a specific form of gaslighting I experienced as a teen that I haven't seen discussed elsewhere. Fair warning, this is going to require a discussion of some Mormon doctrine, and details of my own deconversion. But first, I know there's a lot of discourse about misuse of psychiatric terms, especially gaslighting, so let's start with a definition.

Gaslighting doesn't have a clinical definition, but I think this definition from Medical News Today sums it up pretty well:

"Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse in which a person or group causes someone to question their own sanity, memories, or perception of reality."

Now for the Mormon doctrine, specifically a piece of scripture called Moroni's Challenge or Moroni's Promise. Moroni's Challenge is in the Book of Mormon, near the end, and is heavily emphasized in Mormon teachings as one of the key takeaways of the book. The relevant passage (Moroni, Chapter 10, Verse 4) reads:

"And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost."

This is the final hard sell of every Mormon missionary, every faith-affirming address in a church meeting, every script they teach for converting your friends and neighbors. If you read the book and ask god if it's true, and you really really mean it, you'll get the answer.

Moroni 10:4 is often compared to James 1:5-6, which, according to the church's foundational myth, is the scripture that led Joseph Smith to say the prayer that led to the founding of the church:

"If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed."

I can't overemphasize how significant these two passages are to Mormons. When I was a member (and for a few years after) I could quote both of these from memory. This is the instruction manual Mormons are given for saving souls, including their own.

And with the scene set, on to the story.

When I was a teen, I decided it was time for me to take Moroni's Challenge and find my own unwavering conviction that the church was true. Mormons call this "gaining a testimony," and it's something every Mormon is meant to do. I had already read the Book of Mormon, the Bible, and the other Mormon holy books a couple times, so I started by simply praying. And nothing happened.

Not to be deterred, I set about doing all the various things Mormons are taught to do when they need spiritual guidance and the reception's a bit fuzzy. I started reading the Book of Mormon more often, fasting for a day at a time, trying to cut out "satanic" influences in my life, etc. In case a lack of faith was the problem, I started reading articles by Mormon leaders about how to strengthen my faith, and following their advice.

Aaaand nothing happened.

It's not like the bar was high here. Mormons describe these spiritual confirmations as any one of a range of vague feelings. But no matter how much I wanted that confirmation, I didn't feel anything that I could convince myself was a sign.

This went on for a period of a few months. I don't need to go into much more detail about that process here, except to say that it was an increasingly desperate, frightening, and depressing experience, and I didn't allow myself to consider the possibility that there might not be an answer coming until I was sure I'd done everything I was meant to and received no response. In other words, by the time I stopped believing, I was as certain as I could possibly be.

Eventually, I started trying to talk to people in my life about what I had experienced, and the conclusion I had reached. I'm from a heavily Mormon area. Nearly everyone I'd ever met was Mormon, and everyone I spoke to about my faith in those days certainly was. From family to friends to, on one occasion, Mormon apostle Jeffrey Holland. These conversations took place over a long period, beginning when I was still hoping to get my confirmation somehow but was beginning to despair, and continuing until well after I had stopped believing. In each conversation, my question was basically the same: "I've read the scriptures, fasted, and prayed with faith for confirmation, and I've received no answer. What do you think that means?" And in each conversation, the immediate response was the same: "That didn't happen. Either you weren't faithful enough, or you got your answer and ignored it."

It's not hard to understand why every Mormon I spoke to reacted in the same way. They were just taking the easy out that was built into Moroni's Challenge. "If ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ." Those qualities are impossible to measure or prove. I couldn't demonstrate what my intentions were to anyone else, no matter how sure I was myself. So upon hearing my story, the people I spoke to could conclude one of three things: that the religion their entire life was built around was false, that I was lying, or that I had misremembered or misunderstood some part of my own internal experience.

The first option was obviously not on the table, and people don't like to accuse people they know and like of lying, so every one of them took the third option. These were not generally people with a history of manipulation or abuse. As far as I can remember, my mother had never gaslit or abused me before I lost my faith. And yet, because of this one piece of Mormon doctrine, otherwise caring people just trying to do the right thing ended up gaslighting a scared teenager who was reaching out to them for help. They weren't bad people, and they weren't behaving irrationally. Their decision-making skills were working fine, but they were operating on faulty information, and so they inflicted lasting psychological damage on someone they cared about.

To this day, when I second guess myself about the other shit I went through, telling myself "maybe it wasn't that bad, you're exaggerating, you're misremembering," I hear it in my mother's voice. I doubt my own memories frequently, especially memories of my own thoughts and feelings. Like nearly all the ex-Mormons I've known, I've gone through periods of intense interest in Mormon history and counter-apologetics. Because I'm still never quite sure if I can trust my own memory, but maybe I can back up my experiences with other sources that help confirm my conclusions.

This isn't something I've seen discussed in detail, although I've seen lots of ex-Mormons with similar deconversion stories say that their friends and family just dismissed what they'd experienced. I think our discussions of what we've gone through as ex-Mormons would be helped by understanding this as a form of gaslighting. It's not intentional or malicious, but the effects are the same.

[mooncaps]

"God doesn't make mistakes." I hear this said by gender purists all the time, as if it somehow settles the argument.

I'm back and forth on whether I believe in any kind of God myself, but for the sake of discussion, I'll accept the premise that God exists.

And if He does exist, then this is the same God who creates bodies that are born without the ability to walk. And when parents have a child like that, they don't say: "God doesn't make mistakes. Get up and walk, you little brat." They accept that their child needs different things than typical children need to get by in this life. They help their child. Sometimes they surgically intervene with the body that God created in order to give that child a more fulfilling life. And what they usually say is: "Everything happens for a reason."

And maybe they're just rationalizing a world with unexplained difficulties to themselves, but they try to find meaning in the struggle and compassion for the less fortunate. They fold it into their beliefs as God putting a spirit into a less capable body because He wanted that spirit to learn something of value that it wouldn't have been able to learn living any other life and because He wanted to teach the other people in that person's life some valuable lessons too.

I had several teeth pulled last year and had my appendix out a few months ago. Did God intend for me to die of an infection, an abscess tooth, or appendicitis? Or did God send my spirit to Earth at a time when human knowledge, and the mercy of Medicaid, had advanced far enough that it would be possible to catch those things and take action before they became deadly, so I could live on to do more with my life? Is it possible that He wanted me to learn from those experiences so I could go on to write this post, and hopefully many more long-winded ponderings about social issues?

People alter what God creates all the time. Failing organs are removed. Organ transplants occur. Conjoined twins are separated. Cleft palates are repaired. Deviated septums are corrected. Do we think of those things as human arrogance trying to correct what God created, or do we think that God in His wisdom put resources on this planet that would make it possible for humans to be able to help each other in those ways because He wanted to teach them something? It would seem to me that He gave us the resources to harm each other or to help each other, and the free will to choose which.

Are you seeing yet how this relates to the gender purists I mentioned at the top of this post?

When people seem to take the stance of "God doesn't make mistakes, so obviously He wouldn't put a male spirit in a female body" I instead think of it from the angle of "if God doesn't make mistakes, then WHY would He put a male spirit in a female body? Or the inverse? Or create spirits that defy binary gender categorization? Or create bodies that are intersex?"

Interestingly, when a person is born intersex, the gender purists are often eager to surgically intervene with what God created, before that person can even express an opinion on the matter, but when a trans person expresses a wish for agency to alter their own body, the gender purists say "God doesn't make mistakes." It's almost like they're more interested in rigidly enforcing their own concepts of a gender binary than in actually trying to understand and respect why God does what He does.

Maybe God created masculine spirits in feminine bodies, spirits that defy binary categorization, intersex bodies, and other such people because He wanted to teach those spirits something about that unique type of life that they couldn't learn any other way. Maybe He wanted those spirits to understand the value of discovering gender, defining it, navigating the socio-cultural significance of it, learning the flexibility of the human body, and being entrusted with responsibility as the steward of their own self.

I think trans people are beautiful, magical, and brave, so I like the idea of a God who is well pleased with His transgender children learning to love themselves. Maybe He wanted them to learn that kind of love. And maybe He wanted the other people in a trans or intersex person's life to learn to be more compassionate and accepting of differences. Maybe He made human bodies malleable and put resources on this planet that would make it possible to give new instructions to the human body on a cellular level because He wanted humans to be able to help each other in that way. Maybe everything happens for a reason.

I'm only theorizing, of course. I don't presume to know the will of God. I'm suspicious of anyone who claims they do know His will. I just try to look around at the world, listen to what people are saying about their lived experiences, and ponder the possibilities.

And again, this is accepting the premise that God even exists, because if this life is all there is then really none of this matters and there's no point at all in getting bent out of shape about what other people choose to do with their bodies. Assuming He does exist though, is it so impossible to imagine that gender flexibility could be part of His plan?

[thoughtfulfoxllama]

A member of our Stake Council was doing Stake Announcements today, and he gave a quote from Pres Snow

“God has fulfilled His promises to us, and our prospects are grand and glorious. Yes, in the next life we will have our wives, and our sons and daughters. If we do not get them all at once, we will have them some time, for every knee shall bow and every tongue shallo confess that Jesus is the Christ. You that are mourning about your children straying away will have your sons and your daughters. If you succeed in passing through these trials and afflictions and recieve a resurrection, you will, by the power of the Priesthood, work and labor, as the Son of God has, until you get all your sons and daughters in the path of exaltation and glory…. Therefore, mourn not because all your sons and daughters do not follow in the path that you have marked out to them, or give heed to your counsels. Inasmuch as we succeed in securing eternal glory, and stand as saviors, and as kings and priests to our God, we will save our posterity.” Lorenzo Snow – The Teachings of Lorenzo Snow, p 195

I love this quote for a huge number of reasons. I love it because in just a few words, it tells you everything about the hereafter we need to know:

Nature of Relationships- Relationships are of endless importance. So much that we will have our loved ones with us. Elder Holland said what without Pat, heaven wouldn't be heaven (and approaching my 1 Year Anniversary, I can testify that, despite occasional disagreements and annoyances, even paradise would be a Lone & Dreary place without my wife)

Nature of God- God is not cruel, but loving. He wants all his children to be happy, and will give us chances to keep improving until we are where we want to be, with the people we want to be with

Nature of Exaltation- Spirit Adoption made more sense to me than Viviparous Birth. But regardless, part of the Station of Godhood is parenthood. I believe that President Snow is speaking not only of our Mortal Children, but our Spirit Children. We will know the Joy of seeing our children improve, of reaching your station. I believe firmly that the role of a parent is to make sure your children surpass you. While we cannot surpass God in power & authority, as we become more like him, we can eventually match him in creativity, in love, in joy, and in wisdom

Nature of Agency- The Plan of Salvation was about Agency. Lucifer sought to destroy our Agency so that "not one would be lost." How does this match with what Pres Snow said? It is not an issue of ends, but means. Mankind, I believe, will gravitate towards the Celestial Kingdom, as we are the Children of God (and God is Love). However, Mortality is an inherently Traumatic Experience, where we are blinded to our true nature. God's Plan was to let us become who we are on our terms (because he knew we would all eventually be okay), Lucifer's was to force the process (which would, ironically, not make us Celestial at all)

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat: Chapter Two

FANDOM: EXTRACTION

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

WARNINGS: angst. Big time angst.

SUMMARY:  Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began.  In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be.  And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.  

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/125445052

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @karimac @kmc1989 @thebewingedjewelcat @ninjasawakenedmystar @residentdormouse @asirensrage @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @themaradwrites @occommunity @timbradfordsboot

My tag list is OPEN. Please let me know if you'd like to be added :)

******

Chapter Text

“Nik found us a little place,” Esme announces, as she tends to his beard; using a pocket comb to make her way through the wiry hair. “In Austria. Just on the outskirts of Gmunden. It looks really pretty; it’s right on the edge of a lake and it’s surrounded by trees and you can look out at the mountains.”

Reaching for a pair of cuticle scissors that rest on his chest, she chews on her bottom lip as she focuses on snipping the wiry hair. The gray is more noticeable now that his beard is longer and thicker, and she momentarily pauses her work and carefully studies his face and hair; enjoying how the strands of silver sparkle in the sunlight that streams into the room. They’re a sign of wisdom and experience; testaments to life often lived on the edge that take up residence at his temples, the nape of his neck, and throughout the wild top tresses.

“You know…” She uses the comb to sweep his bangs off his forehead and away from his eyes. “…I’m really digging this older guy vibe you’ve got going on. It’s kinda sexy; all the gray hair you’ve sprouted over the past five months. Once you hit fifty? You are going to be one hell of a hot silver fox. I’m going to have to beat the women off with a stick. And probably a few men.”

Returning to the task at hand, she carefully trims the hair above his top lip; mindful of the combination of breathing and feeding tubes that have been keeping him alive and nourished. When it became apparent that she was going to continue to ‘stand off’ against them, the doctors had -albeit reluctantly- switched their course of care; ordering the nurses to teach Esme the basics in case they’re ever short-staffed and other patients need to be of higher priority. She knows their excuses are bullshit; that they’re simply tired of her constant presence and her refusal to spare them the work of looking after someone they’ve already written off as a loss. And she’s also aware that they’re just biding their time until legal paperwork is drawn up and processed; licking their lips in anticipation of when they can serve her with a court order to have him removed from the machines.

Yet their pressure -both passive and actively aggressive- doesn’t sway her. Despite being both physically and mentally exhausted, she is staying the course; digging her heels in even deeper and willingly and readily accepting any ‘task’ they want to assign her.

“I am NOT very good at this,” Esme laments, as she returns to trimming his beard. “I am definitely not cut out to be a hair stylist, that’s for sure. You know what we’re going to do as soon as you’re out of here? Get you to a good barber. Because you’re starting to look homeless and unloved and I don’t need some bleeding heart picking you up off the street like you’re a stray.”

She hums as she works; upbeat show tunes and Beatles medleys that help keep her spirits up. They’ve been waning lately; the darkness she’d successfully fought off for so long now a near-constant presence. In two weeks it will be six months since he was declared ‘clinically dead’ and placed on the respirator. Half a year since she’d last seen him open his eyes and heard his voice; vividly able to recall those last few minutes that they’d spent together in Dhaka. Tucked away in that litter-strewn alley as dawn broke around them, unabashedly crying when he broke the news that he was going to send her off with Saju and Ovi. There was a better chance she’d make it there -and successfully get across the bridge- if they split up; he’d act as a decoy by creating chaos within the heart of town and drawing the enormous police and military presence away from the checkpoints. He’d admitted he wouldn’t be able to focus if she was with him; afraid he’d become so obsessed with her safety and well-being that he’d make simple, stupid mistakes. And in turn, cause BOTH of their demises.

On her part, there’d been anger. Confusion. Heartache. She’d initially lashed out at him and accused him of lying to her over the course of the last five days; none of the softer and adoring words had been true, and neither had been the hopes for a future or their plans to travel together. And when she’d seen the hurt that darkened his eyes and furrowed his brow and tensed his shoulders, she had changed her tactic; begging and pleading with him to change his mind. She’d be able to handle herself. Promising that she’d stick tight to him and wouldn’t be a burden or a distraction; he’d be able to focus on the job at hand. After all, he was the first person that had ever made her feel safe and secure. Protected. And it absolutely terrified her to have that suddenly snatched away.

It had felt like hours had passed since their initial goodbye; still feeling the callouses on his skin as he gently cradled her cheek in his palm, her lips still tingling from that long, shockingly tender kiss. And those words…spoken just before they parted…still echoing in her ears.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

It was the second time he’d said it. In less than thirty-six hours. Just that very morning he’d unexpectedly dropped it upon; a genuinely tender and hopeful moment as they parted ways at the extraction point. The drive there had been spent in silence; Tyler making the quick and effortless transition from the soft-spoken and attentive man she’d been intimate and shared secrets with to ruthless and calculated mercenary.

Yet it hadn’t frightened her. His mere presence and his smell and the glances and reassuring smiles he’d cast in her direction made sure of that. He may have become ‘all business’, but the other Tyler was just lingering just at the surface; the one that had shared his deepest and darkest confessions with her and who’d cried when talking about his son and his fight with cancer and the horrible decision he’d made prior to his death. And who’d shown every end of the sexual spectrum during their times behind closed doors; rough and aggressive and domineering one moment, slow and tender and worshipping the next.

She had never met anyone like him. In more ways than one.

And it was right before she began her trek through the forest and towards the river when it became abundantly clear that every kiss they’d shared, every secret spilled, every tear they’d shed, had all been real. He had meant the words he’d said; the excitement he’d shown at the idea of travelling together and of even seeing her birthplace and meeting her family. And the optimism he’d shown when talking about the possibility of a future…a REAL future…together.

Although a simple moment, it had seemed so deeply personal and intimate; the way he’d pulled that bulletproof vest over her head and made sure it was tightly and securely fastened. Already so protective; forgetting about her own background in the military and her years spent on the job in his quest and desire to keep her safe and sound. No one had ever made her feel that way before; nurturing and adoring and caring instead of being indifferent or malicious in both their words and their actions.

While Mark and all his cruel words and taunts, beatings and sexual assaults had stripped her of every ounce of trust in men, it had taken Tyler less than a week to restore not only her faith in others, but the most primal of needs and urges. Sex had never been a priority; it’s hard to find yourself THAT attracted to someone when you’d spent years having the most basic and most vile and degrading acts forced upon you. But with Tyler, it had been near instantaneous. An attraction that she’d felt the moment of their introduction in the outback; when one of those enormous, calloused and scarred hands had practically swallowed one of her own. The stories alone should have left her intimidated; the scores of incredibly dangerous missions he’d been involved in and the trails of blood and rotting corpses he left behind.

It was his eyes. Brilliant yet soulful blue; a humanity and a tenderness that he kept buried just under the surface. He wasn’t as broken or as soulless as he perceived himself to be; not truly the empty shell that he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t turned to stone despite the hardships of the life he’d been living; instead his grief, guilt, and heartache so enormous and overwhelming that they left him numb and jaded to anything beyond his four walls. His addictions were proof that he was still very much alive; a troubled, lonely, touch-starved man that sought out unhealthy ways to ease both his physical and mental suffering.

She’d been privy to those sides he’d long buried. In the same way she had so blindly and wholly trusted him, he had done the same with her. Speaking openly and honestly about his son and the cancer that had not only robbed him of his life, but his father’s comforting and loving presence in those final moments. He spoke about his alcoholism and his addiction to pain meds; how he’d tried to stop on many occasions but found the suffering just too difficult to bear. And he confessed to the death wish he’d been carrying around since he’d abandoned his child; not really wanting a sniper’s bullet to cut him down in the middle of the job, but wholeheartedly believing he deserved it.

While he’d wanted to change and continued to desperately cling to any semblance of life, he didn’t quite know how to tackle his demons or fix the issues that surrounded him. He’d never been taught healthy coping mechanisms; not allowed to mourn the loss of his mother or to even show some glimmer of emotion during her funeral or those long days and nights of grieving that followed. It was a sign of weakness, after all. A real man didn’t react from the heart, let alone speak from it. And his father would simply not allow a ‘fragile and pathetic’ man to live under his roof.

And then one day, after years of beatings and cruelty, that abused and tormented child transformed into a deeply troubled man. Saddled with decades of trauma and toxic masculinity that his father had so viciously beat into him.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

He’d spoken those words after making sure every piece of velcro on her vest was attached ‘just right’, then grabbed hold of the shoulder straps and pulled her into a kiss. It had been long and languid and heartbreakingly tender; nowhere near as intense and hungry and desperate as those they’d shared over the course of five days, but incredible in its own right. A kiss that held so much promise and a tinge of worry. A potent mixture of hope, optimism, and fear. The best-case scenario would be that the job went according to plan; he’d successfully rescue Ovi and return to the extraction point in less than two hours’ time. Unscathed. After that they’d be free; they’d get to safety, collect their money, and make good on all the plans they’d made. The worst-case scenario was the mission being an epic failure. And their parting words -ones made with the best intentions- would turn out to be a permanent goodbye.

********

It feels like a lifetime ago. Mahajan’s double-crossing, the brutal and untimely deaths of their team members, Saju’s relentless hunt in a desperate bid to save his own family. So many things had gone wrong in such a short period of time; a struggle to survive in litter-strewn alleys and sewers filled with feces, garbage, and rats. They hadn’t had a chance to relax; unable to catch their breath before the next disaster came charging full speed ahead. And it was out of desperation that Tyler had played the one card he still had up his sleeve; someone he’d known for years and had always been able to trust. After all, he’d saved the man’s life on more than one occasion. If that wasn’t deserving of even the tiniest bit of help, what was?

Neither could have known - as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and naked limbs in the bed of Gaspar’s guest room, that the worst was yet to come. Holding onto a semblance of hope that they’d walked through the fires of hell and somehow lived to tell about it. Believing they’d simply lie low for a couple of days and then be on their way; wait for the pandemonium to settle and then move about somewhat freely and easily.

Only friends are sometimes your worst enemies. Gaspar’s allegiance with Asif and his subsequent betrayal had led to disaster; an attempt to kill Tyler in order to get his hands on her and Ovi and the ten million dollar ‘prize’ that he’d be rewarded with. And in the end, it had been the fifteen-year-old that had pulled the trigger; saving all of their lives yet setting the stage for what would be the most difficult hour of their entire lives.

Crossing the bridge.

It’s still so vivid. The wails of the injured and the dying. The smell of fire, gunpowder and spilt gasoline. The pollution wafting off the filthy water. The blistering sun and the suffocating humidity. The taste of her own sweat as it dripped from her nose and gathered along her top lip. And the blood. So much blood. Covering her hands and staining her clothes. The scent of copper as it hung heavily in the air. And the fear and panic in Tyler’s eyes as he straddled the threshold between life and death. His body impossibly heavy as it lay across her lap; his battered and bloodied hands desperately clutching the front of her shirt as he gasped for breath.

She briefly closes her eyes; pushing back the flood of tears and the painful, traumatic memories. Still unable to think about those moments before help had finally arrived; how minutes had seemed hours as she sat -a filthy, sobbing, terrified mess- with her fingers shoved in the bullet wound in order to staunch his heavy bleeding. Wondering if perhaps her efforts would be all for nothing; Asif’s remaining men making their way to the bridge and discovering them there. Alive Tyler would immediately be killed; they would have made sure she watched as they put a bullet -or several- into his already beaten and broken body. Her fate would have been so much worse; likely kept captive -for days, weeks, even MONTHS- and abused in every possible way. All she would have been able to do was suffer through it; unable to fight back against the strength and the power -and the amount- of her attackers. She’d never been a praying person; she didn’t necessarily believe or not believe when it came to a higher power. But during moments of solitude, she would have begged and pleaded to anyone…anything…to permanently end her torment.

Gathering her composure, she shoves all thoughts of Dhaka aside and returns to the task at hand; slowly and carefully trimming his beard, mindful of the hairs that crowd close to the ventilation and feeding tubes. She misses his face; the one that wasn’t taken over by life-saving measures. It’s been so long since she’s seen it; whether it be that slow, boyish smile or that sly, almost mischievous smirk or the intensity that narrows his eyes and furrows his brow. And his eyes; a brilliant, captivating blue that can quickly transform to dark and stormy. She’d been privy to so many things during those five days in Dhaka; body language and facial expressions and sides to him that he’d never allowed anyone else to see.

And she’s not ready to give any one of them up.

“So about this place. In Austria…” She moves to the bedside table and opens the top drawer; placing the comb and scissors inside and then picking up a pair of nail clippers. “…I think it’s perfect for us. It’s in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by trees and mountains and it’s right on the water. It’s got two bedrooms and one and a half baths and the cutest open-concept living room and kitchen combo. It’s not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it IS comfortable. Quaint. And I don’t think we need much more than that, do you?”

Picking up his right hand, she patiently and gently tends to his nails. “I mean, I know it’s going to be pretty damn cold in the winter. And there’s going to be a lot of snow. But I’m used to it. I grew up in Colorado, remember? I know it’ll be a hard adjustment for an Aussie; you’re used to sun and sand and surf. But I think you’ll do alright. Actually, I KNOW you’ll do alright.”

When the conversation runs dry, she once more returns to humming as she works; finishing the rest of his nails before applying a hospital-provided moisturizer to both hands. Concentrating on the callouses on his palms and the one on the tip of his trigger finger; working the coconut-scened lotion into rough, thickened skin.

“I bet you haven’t been pampered like this in a long time,” she says, as she firmly massages his wrists, fingers, and thumbs. Diligently working at loosening the ligaments and tendons that have tightened over the course of the last six months. “If EVER. And I don’t mean to make it sound like I hate doing this, but buddy, you owe me one hell of a back rub when we finally get the hell out of here.”

It helps. Talking about the ‘when’ instead of the ‘if’. It’s the one thing that has kept her grounded and sane for half of a year; the plans they’d made and her determination to see them through. As long as she holds onto that little bit of hope, she hasn’t lost complete control of the situation; managing to keep death lingering at a comfortable distance while she navigates the grey and the gloom between here and there. If she allows herself to use the word ‘maybe’, she’s written him off; handed him the same death sentence that all the doctors and even Nik and Yaz have burdened him with. She refuses to give up; taking every flinch and flicker of his eyelids and twitch of his fingers or toes as a sign that he’s still fighting.

And nowhere close to surrendering.

She takes care of his hair next; spritzing it down with mandarin-scented detangler before making her way through with both brush and comb. Slipping a hand between him and the bed and gently lifting his head from the pillow; apologizing profusely when she feels as if she’s yanked a little too hard at the knots. And as exhausted as she is, she finds herself somewhat enjoying the tasks that she’s been given; a natural-born caretaker who’d been neglected and touch starved most of her life and in turn, wanted to make sure no one else experienced the same things. A mother hen so to speak; badly longing to protect and nurture another human being but never getting the opportunity to do so.

Until now.

“Pretty shitty circumstances though,” she says aloud, and drops the hair care tools into the top drawer of the nightstand. “I think I’d take the worst possible case of man flu over this any day of the week.”

Guilt immediately sets in. Worried that IF he truly can hear her and understand what’s being said, he’ll assume she feels he’s a burden. That the blame lies solely upon him in terms of her emotional and physical exhaustion and that she’s simply stuck by his side out of a feeling of misplaced servitude. He had saved her life in Dhaka, after all. Surely that must make her feel as if she owes him. That waiting on him hand and foot and perhaps even feeding him and cleaning his ass for the rest of his life is merely payback.

“I don’t really mean that you know.” She’s quick to apologize; using her hip to close the drawer on the nightstand and then leaning against the railing of the bed. And she chews nervously on her bottom lip as two fingertips swipe his bangs off his forehead and away from his eyes. “Not in the way it probably sounded. I don’t mind doing all this stuff. I WANT to do it. And I know you’d probably do the same for me. I just meant that it’s shitty circumstances that got us here. I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else.”

Removing a tube of chapstick from the pocket of her hoodie, she snaps off the cap and leans over the bed railing. “You’re totally drying out here,” she laments, mindful of the breathing and feeding tube as she glides the bubblegum-flavoured concoction over his top lip, followed by the bottom. “I’m sorry it’s not the strawberry one you got used to in Dhaka. Remember how you always used to mention it? Every time you kissed me? About liking the taste of it? I ran out. And this cherry one was the closest thing I could find to it in the pharmacy here. There…” She uses a fingertip to clear excess from his lips. “…totally kissable now. Not that I wouldn’t kiss you before, but…” Pressing a kiss to each corner of his mouth. “…it makes it a little better.”

Pocketing the balm, she reaches for the lever on the bedrail and sets it into the down position. Gently straightening and smoothing out his blankets, she fluffs both the pillow behind his head and the one that supports his back before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“Tyler…” She takes one of his hands in both her own. “…we need to have a little chat. I know it’s kind of unfair right now; you can’t exactly give an opinion or argue with me. And I promise that once you’re out here and back to normal, I MAY let you get a word in edge-wise from time to time. But for now, there’s some things I need to say. That I’d rather you hear now than never hear them at all, you know? Because…”

Sighing, she anxiously yanks the elastic out of her ponytail; shaking her long, dark tresses for before simply gathering them up and putting them back once again. “Look, you’ve been amazing, okay? You’ve done everything I’ve asked you to do; when it comes to giving me little signs that you’re making your way back to me. And I’m so proud of you; I know you’re tired and you’re healing but you’re still trying to help me out. That’s why it kills me that I have to do this. That I have to ask for more.”

She turns his palm up to face her and commences drawing slow, smooth patterns on it with the tip of her finger. Her eyes riveted on the beside monitor; a smile spreading across her face when his heart rate escalates.

“I keep telling them. That you ALWAYS respond to that. And that you’ve been responding to other things, too. I told them you’ll wiggle your toes or your fingers when I ask and how sometimes your eyelashes will flutter and other times you try and put your hand on top of mine. They don’t believe me; they think it’s all in my head. They keep saying that you’d do for them and the nurses if it was intentional. And you know what I said? I said ‘maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about any of you’.”

Sighing, she reaches up to tuck wayward strands of hair behind her ears.

“Tyler, I know I’ve asked a lot. And that you’ve worked really hard to give me what I asked. I know you’re tired; you’re trying to build up your strength so you can wake up and get the hell out of here. But we’re running out of time, babe. I told them I’d shut things off at the start of the sixth month; that’s only a couple of weeks away. I don’t want to do it, believe me. I want to keep you on these machines for as long as I can; until you’re a hundred percent ready to come off them. But if I don’t do what I promised, they’re going to take me to court. And they’ll get an order to override me and do what they want. I don’t want it coming to that. You deserve so much better than THAT. So this is where I need your help. AGAIN. I need you to do more, okay? I need a bigger sign. One that the doctors can’t brush off. I need something that says you’re almost ready; you’re stronger and you’re healthier and you’re almost at the finish line. I don’t want to say that I’m desperate, but I am. I really need this. I really need YOU. Because I’m starting to get really scared and you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel safe and protected and…” She valiantly struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “…and I never knew I even needed to feel those things. So please? Just do something. Anything. That shows them they’re wrong. Please.”

She waits for a sign. Another increase in heart rate. A flicker of his eyes. The wiggle of fingers and toes. And she’s crestfallen when nothing happens.

“You’re probably sleeping,” she laments, then slaps a hand against her forehead. “God I am so fucking stupid. Of COURSE you’re sleeping. You’re in a coma for Christ’s sake. I’m starting to lose it. I really am. I’m even talking to myself lately. Out loud. You can’t tell me THAT’S normal. And there’s one more thing…” She laces her fingers through his. “Now is going to be harder than I thought. To say what I need to. I don’t even know what I’m so scared of; it’s not you’re awake and you can laugh at me or act disgusted or just totally shoot me down. But I need to get it off my chest. Because if something does go wrong and something bad DOES happen, I’d never forgive myself for not telling you. So here it goes…”

Sighing heavily, she steels herself.

“I love you, Tyler. And I know what you’re probably thinking; about how it’s way too soon and that there’s no way you can love someone so quickly. Believe me, I never thought it was possible either. Until it happened. I don’t expect you to feel the same way; it’s not like you’ve spent the last five months like I have. Dhaka probably seems like just yesterday in your mind. I don’t expect you to wake up and say it back; not unless you FEEL it. And maybe you never will. I don’t know. Maybe those five days were as good as things were going to get. But I HAD to tell you. And to be honest, I needed to admit it to myself, too.”

For several minutes she sits in silence; tightly clasping his hand and watching his face for any change. The curl of a lip or the flutter of eyelashes or the swell of a cheek with an attempt of a smile. He’d been showing remarkable progress within the last few days alone; voluntary movements of his hands and feet and a slight grimace of pain when the night nurse had to change IV sites. But today he’s motionless; not even the smallest of flinches. Peacefully at rest; his beard and nails trimmed, his hair combed, and his skin warm to the touch.

“I’m going to go and do my stuff,” she says, and lifts his hand to her face; pressing a kiss to each battered knuckle and at the base of his wrist. “Do some yoga, take a shower, go down the hall to the kitchen and get something to eat. So I’m gonna just let you rest and…”

The moment she slips off the edge of the bed, his hand tightens around hers. Not with the strength of a man who’d been declared clinically dead and was relying on machines to keep him alive, but the strength of someone still very much alive. And fighting like hell.

“I knew it.” She allows the tears to come; cradling his cheek in her palm as she leans over the bed and rests her forehead against his. “I KNEW it.”

*****

Although running behind, she sticks to her morning schedule; simple ‘luxuries’ that she’s clung to to keep what’s remaining of her sanity. A lengthy and rejuvenating yoga routine that helps centre and ground; the furniture moved aside in the sitting area of Tyler’s private room to make space for herself and her mat. A long shower in one of the many ‘for family use only’ bathrooms; the pounding water working out the kinks in her neck and soothing the aches in her back and hips. Finished off with that first tea of the day and a quick and quiet breakfast. Steaming hot perfection combined with a bowl of yogurt, granola, and fresh fruit; always at the same table -and seat right next to the window- in the ICU’s small yet fully stocked and manned cafeteria.

It makes her feel human again. To focus on herself. But it’s fleeting and soon taken over by feelings of selfishness and guilt; ashamed that she’d allowed herself those moments of peace and clarity while Tyler continued to exist in that void between life and death.

But today is different. His response to her request for a more significant and more obvious sign and her profession of love has rejuvenated her; her confidence has returned to her step and her optimism and hope are both stronger than ever. She knows they’ll try and convince her it’s all in her head; gaslighting her into believing that she’s so desperate for a miracle that she’s become ‘delusional’ and is ‘highly imaginative’. But she knows for sure that his squeeze of the hand was the real deal; it was strong and assuring and sending a clear, unwavering message that he’d not only heard her pleas and requests, but was doing his best to acknowledge AND answer them. And now only one real challenge remains. Getting him to show the nurses and the doctors the same responses when they speak to him.

“This place is getting busy again,” Esme announces as she re-enters his room, her soiled yoga shorts and tank in hand; stuffing the latter into a near overflowing she’s been promising to take down the laundry room for over a week. “Remember how I was talking about all those rooms opening up? People getting shipped up to normal wards? Well, they’re full again.” Sighing, she gathers her damp hair in both hands and styles it into a haphazard bun; securing it with the elastic she keeps around one wrist. “A lot of pretty young people, too. I don’t what’s going on and how they’re getting so sick or so hurt, but…”

A barely audible grunt from across the room interrupts her mid-sentence. The anxiety is immediate; her stomach clenching and her jaw tightening as she tries to digest the never heard before sound. Any change of the ’norm’ brings about near panic; a fear that something different automatically means disaster. And her brows are knit together and her eyes are narrowed as she apprehensively glances over her shoulder.

His eyes open. Barely. The gaze is groggy. Confused. But steadily fixed upon her.

“Tyler?”

Another grunt. His eyes briefly closing before he raises a hand; trembling furiously as it reaches for the breathing tube.

“No! No! No!” Dropping her remaining belongings on the floor, she rushes to his bedside; fingers curling around his wrist. “Don’t touch that. You’ll yank it out. Hurt yourself. The nurse needs to do it for you. Can you see me? Hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying? Blink if you do.”

He obliges her request.

“What are you doing awake? What…?” Her words are cut off by a choked sob; one of pure shock and disbelief. And she wraps both arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his temple; tears spilling down her cheeks as she rests her head upon his shoulder. “You prick! Leave it to you to wait until I was out of the room!”

It takes tremendous effort and strength, but his hand comes to rest in the middle of her back; rubbing it in slow, smooth circles in an attempt to console her.

“You know how long I waited for this moment?” Pulling away, she lovingly ruffles his hair. “Almost six months! A half a year! I’ve thought about it every day. What it would be like when it happened. And what do you do? You go ahead and totally ruin it for me!”

He attempts a sorry. Words unable to get passed the tubes shoved down his throat.

“I’m just teasing you. Just giving you a hard time. Don’t try and talk, okay? Not until they get those things out of you. Do you know where you are?”

A small nod.

“Do you remember what happened? Do you know why you’re here?”

Another. Followed by heavy-lidded eyes surveying the room; brow furrowing at the sight of the various bedside machines and the wires attached to various parts of his body. And when he looks back at her there’s a mixture of emotions written on his face; a heavy dose of fear and concern.

“I know it’s a hell of a thing to wake up to. Being here. And I know you’re probably really confused right now. Your mind is probably all fuzzy. Nothing much is making sense, huh? You’re probably scared, too. I would be too.”

He raises a hand; knuckles brushing against her cheek before his arm once more falls heavily onto the bed.

“I’m okay,” she assures him, as she sinks down onto the edge of the bed and takes his hand in both of hers. “And so is Ovi. Nik’s had people with him ever since he got home. They follow him everywhere; keep a close eye on him. Just in case.”

His brow furrows as he regards her intently.

“I’m fine,” she stresses. “I was a bit banged up. Nothing serious. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse, believe me. I didn’t even need to spend the night here. Not as a patient, anyway. You did what you promised. You got Ovi out of there. You got him home. Safe and sound. It’s over. It’s all over. It’s been over for months now.”

Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. Tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I know you’re probably really confused. You’ve probably got a lot of questions. But you’ve been here for six months. So have I. I wanted to make sure that you were taken care of. That no one would give up on you. And I knew this was going to happen. I knew you were going to fight your way back. That you weren’t ready to give up. You weren’t ready to leave.”

He shakes his head.

“The conceited part of me wants to say it’s all because of me. That I’m the reason you’re still here. That you made your way back just for me. But…”

His eyes find hers once more; hand squeezing hers as tight as his weakened body will allow.

“Sweet talker,” she chides, and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You try and rest, okay? I’m just going to go and call your nurse and she can contact your doctor or come and check you herself. Whatever she needs to do. I just…”

His grip tightens on her as she slips off the bed. The fear once more returning to his eyes.

“I’m not leaving, I just need to get your call button. It’s on the other side of the bed. I need to use it to get your nurse in here. Don’t worry…” Pushing a hand through his hair, she places her lips against his brow. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not EVER.”

*****

It seems so different now.

So foreign.

Almost uncomfortable.

It’s so quiet. All the bedside machines unplugged; dark and silent and shoved into a corner of the room. She had gotten so used to it; the hiss and the hums, the beeps and the clicks. The noises quickly becoming a part of her new existence; blending in with the chatter of the staff as they wandered the halls and the rattle of gurneys as they passed by the room. And she almost misses them; unaware of how familiar and routine they’d gotten until they suddenly ceased to exist. They had been a security blanket almost; something steady and constant that had signified life and hope and had kept her going at even her darkest and most difficult of moments.

He sleeps soundly; aided by powerful painkillers given through an IV line and fed to him through a programmed pump. She’d insisted on it; reminding them of the addiction issues that had been previously addressed and admitting -painfully- that he couldn’t be trusted to administer to himself. They’re hard things to accept; the powerful and all-consuming ties he has to both alcohol and Oxycontin. In Dhaka they’d briefly talked about it; he’d confessed to his addictions and admitted that he wanted to break free of their clutches. Getting clean was a priority now that he had someone in his life; he wanted to be rid of the worst of his vices, no matter how difficult it would be to walk away from them.

“You make me want to be a better man,” he’d announced, the sincerity in both his voice and his eyes had making her choke up. No one had ever given her a more beautiful compliment. Such honest and heartfelt words coming from someone like him; a phenomenally strong, seemingly fearless man weighed down by the enormity of his mistakes. Carrying around the burdens of guilt and grief and regret.

Not of that exists right now. He’s temporarily at peace; free of the monsters and the demons that have plagued him for years. His unassisted breathing slow and deep and rhythmic; his weakened and battered body trying to build whatever strength it can in order to begin the long, arduous road of healing. His skin is pale and the circles under his eyes dark and haunting; she’s already promised to get him out into the sunshine as soon as the doctors feel he’s up to it. He sleeps with his face turned towards her; unruly hair splayed out across his pillow and looking shades darker against the crisp white sheets. And there’s a slight smile curving his lips; perhaps feeling the tremendous relief that comes with walking through the darkest and deepest recesses of hell and living to tell about them.

Despite there still being a long and arduous road ahead, she feels as if a tremendous weight has been lifted off her shoulders; no longer concerned with deadlines and ultimatums and feeling an immense satisfaction at the doctors being proven wrong. And it had taken everything she had not to gloat when the primary care physician finally showed up to asses Tyler’s current physical and mental state and remove him from the machines. Feeling an immense sense of pride in him when he was able to answer -using nods or shakes of the head- basic questions regarding both his and her identity. Showing no signs of coma-induced amnesia; knowing her name and not only how they met, but how he ended up in the hospital in the first place. The line of questioning had been short and simple, but had immensely irritated him; the darkness in his eyes as he glared at the doctor gave a clear cut message: the interrogation was pointless, he wasn’t stupid, and he was simply tired of the other man’s shit.

The extubation hadn’t gone as smoothly as staff had hoped. What should have been simple and routine became a three ring circus when she was asked to leave the room; Tyler immediately panicking at the mere thought and his heart rate and blood pressure spiking to near dangerous levels as his fight or flight response kicked into high gear. Shockingly angry and strong for someone who’d been in a coma for half a year and only minutes before had appeared weak and docile. And with that the arguing and the threatening had began; Esme insisting that it was in his best interest if she was allowed to remain in the room where he could keep his eyes on her at the very least.

“He’s scared,” she’d informed them. “He’s scared and he’s confused. And I’m the one thing that’s been constant for the last six months. I’ve ALWAYS been here. He’s gotten used to that. What harm is it going to do if I hang around? It’ll help, if anything.”

For several minutes the bickering back and forth had continued. As had Tyler’s kicking and thrashing about in bed and the threats of “sedating him for everyone else’s safety.” She refused to let that happen; there was no need to drug him up when simply letting her stay by his side and hold his hand and talk him through it would more than suffice.

Her tenacity and stubbornness had been the victors in the end. And she’d held his hand in one of her own; her lips pressed against his ear as she talked him through the entire process and whispered words of comfort and reassurance. Telling him she wasn’t going ANYWHERE; there was nothing and no one that could possibly tear her away. Not now. Not ever.

******

Exhaustion sets in, coming on strong and fast. It’s aided by her newfound optimism and the fears she’s been able to shed, and she welcomes the chance to rest with open arms. Carefully prying open his fingers in order to slip her hand out of his; his grip surprisingly strong and fuelled by his fear that if he stops touching her, she’ll simply disappear. But he’s sleeping soundly and neither movement nor absence of touch disturbs him; not offering up a single flinch as he continues to alternate between lightly snoring and murmuring in his sleep. And kicking off her slippers, she leans back in her chair; drawing her oversized hoodie tighter around her body and then stretching out her legs and placing her feet on the mattress. Giving him just enough contact that if he does wake, he won’t immediately panic; her toes tucked securely underneath the back of his left thigh.

When she wakes, the sun has shifted position in the sky; beams streaming through the courtyard’s glass roof and casting shadows upon the lobby’s walls and floor. For what seems like several long, tedious minutes she fights disorientation; her weary brain struggling to identify and make sense of the sights and sounds that had been part of her life for half a year. Yawning loudly, she presses the heels of her palms into her blurry eyes; keeping them closed as her hands move to her shoulders and she massages at the tight, aching muscles.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She gives a small start; eyes rapidly flicking open and falling on the nurse that busies herself on the opposite side of the bed.

The younger woman gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I tried to be as quiet as possible. Sorry.”

“No need to be. It wasn’t you. I think my neck was crying out for mercy. I didn’t even realize you were here.” Esme frowns as concern sets in. She hates how quickly it can grab hold of her; the panic that comes with the fear of losing the one thing…the one person…that you truly DO love. Her life had changed half a year ago. Meeting someone who was just as damaged and tarnished as she was.

It could have gone so horribly wrong; two hurt and lonely people only making each other worse.

“Is he alright?” She attempts to keep her anxiety under control; the mere thought of him having a setback and ending up worse than before just too much to bear. While all her spoken and unspoken pleas and promises had been both accepted and answered, it’s been a nagging worry; a quick and sudden regression that sentences him to a life in a near -or full- vegetative state.

Even then, she'd stick by his side. Put her entire life on hold in an effort to improve his. And provide whatever care he needed. No matter how 'hands on'. “He’s doing just fine. Breathing well on his own; his numbers never drop below ninety-five percent.”

“And that’s good, right? Especially considering how long he needed that machine for? To already have numbers that high…”

“It’s excellent. Far better than anyone expected.”

“No one expected much from him, did they? And they sure as hell wouldn’t listen to me. I told them; that he was responding to my voice and when I tickled his palm and sometimes when I combed his hair. I knew what I was talking about. It wasn’t all in my head. I wasn’t hysterical or crazy like they said.”

“No. You most certainly weren’t.”

“You were the only that believed me. That didn’t think I was nuts.”

“You fought with too much passion and too much conviction to be anything BUT truthful. I could tell in your voice and in your eyes; you truly believed what you were saying.”

“I may not have known Tyler very long, but I know that he wouldn’t give up without a fight. Maybe before he met me, he would have. But we talked about the future. OUR future. There was no way he was giving up on them. On me. On US.”

“I wish all of the patients here at someone like you in their corner. I like to think that if they did, they’d heal a lot faster; knowing that someone is fighting for them and making sure they get nothing but the best. Do you know how many have no one? Whose families have just given up and stopped coming altogether?”

“I can’t even imagine being that way. Just abandoning someone. Especially someone I love. How do you live with yourself? How do you sleep at night? Pretending as if they don’t even exist anymore?”

“I don’t understand it myself.”

“It’s just so sad. The thought of them being all alone. No one caring about them. I know it’s not easy; seeing someone at their worst and not knowing if they’re going to make it or not. It’s hard; to lose someone you care about. But ignoring them and pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make it all go away.”

“And the guilt afterwards? The regret? If they DO die?”

“I couldn’t live with myself. I wasn’t going to do that to Tyler; just leave him here and go on with my life. I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserves so much better than that. And if he was going to die, I was going to make sure he had someone here with him.”

“I assumed you’d been with him for a long time. Considering how hard you fought. How you wouldn’t back down.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. The way I am. So soon after meeting someone. But I know how I feel. About him. And I know it isn’t wrong. Because nothing wrong could ever feel this right.”

“There’s no rules. No time limit. Whether it’s weeks, months or years that you’ve known someone. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“They don’t even try anymore,” Esme laughs, and leans back in her chair. “They know it’s a lost cause. My family gave up a long time ago.”

For several minutes they go co-exist in silence; Esme watching as the nurse tends to replacing IV and catheter bags, resetting the timer on the pain pump, and using an iPad to jot down the various numbers in regard to his vitals. And she’s beginning to doze off once more when the younger woman’s voice captures her attention; her head snapping up and her eyes flickering open.

“He’s got quite the hold on you there,” the nurse nods down at the bed; Tyler’s hand covering one of Esme’s feet in a surprisingly strong grip.

She wonders when he’d done it. If it was a subconscious moment while he was sleeping or if he’d woken up briefly and intentionally took hold of her. “He’s protective. Even while he’s like this. Just wants to keep an eye on me. Make sure nothing bad happens. Or I don’t get away.”

“I don’t think he has to worry about that. Especially that last part. You know, if you want to get out of here for a bit, I don’t mind sticking around. This was my last patient for these rounds. So if you want to go grab a tea or something to eat or eve get some fresh air…”

“I don’t want to leave him alone. If he wakes up and I’m not here, he might freak out. He might…”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll be right here. Sitting with him. I don’t mind spending my break here. You need some time to yourself. Even if it’s just to wander around a bit. Feel the sun on your face. The worst is over; he’s done his time in hell and come out the other side. You can breathe again.”

She chews on her bottom lip; considering the opportunity that’s been presented to her. And sighing, she turns her teary eyes towards the younger woman. “Please take care of him.”

“Of course. He’s in good hands.”

Giving a nod of approval and a smile of appreciation, she stands; pushing her chair away before approaching the side of the bed. Running her fingers through her hair before holding it back off his forehead; lips meeting warm, smooth skin.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, a fingertip lightly trailing down the scar that inhabits the left side of his brow. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay? I won’t be gone long. I’m not leaving. You don’t EVER have to worry about that.”

[phoenixcanary19]

Hey Law of Assumption/Manifesting community!

I wanted to make this post to share my experience and get some insight. Please DM me if you have any experience similar to this or any advice. I would really appreciate this.

In my reality, I believe that all gods exist and that the "Christian God" is the true God. This has been an issue for me, because due to my spiritual wisdom and religious experiences, I truly and utterly believe that he is against manifestation.

I have spoken to Christians in person and online and they all tell me that this stuff is wrong and demonic. I spoke to one person who told me she was getting attacked by demons for talking to me and told me I was going to hell. I've spoken to some other people who are spiritual in my reality and they've also confirmed that the Christian God is against this stuff.

I don't know what to do, because I care about the Christian God, but having my dream life is really important to me. I want to try to find another God to worship or follow. I feel any LOA's users on here will say "the IAM is God", but that is the Christian God in my religion and in my personal reality with my beliefs. I don't want to use his powers or his name to get "things", 1) If he's not okay with this stuff and 2) It doesn't align with my morals.

Ever since I was 9 years old, I have wanted to manifest my dream life. I didn't know about the law and I would spend my time day dreaming. I found out from spirits and beings that I had the power to create my dream life and that somethings from my dream world were real. I was told by beings I wouldn't have to wait long for my dreams, but I'm 23 years old and I've been waiting since I was 12 for a best friend: i scripted her out and everything and I've even felt her energy a couple of times and my soulmate since I was 15. I believe there are spirits who want me to wait and are "teaching me lessons", but it's not fair to tell me that I'm not going to wait and then I end up waiting 8+ years.

More years have gone by in my life and I don't want another second of my life to go by without my soul family & desired life.

I want to be a good person and do things the right way and I feel there are beings messing with my reality. I am not stupid. I know to any person whose not spiritual or who knows about beings, I will sound insane and you'll tell me to see a psychologist, but there are beings intervening. I've felt so on and seen so on psychic level. I would try to affirm and ignore the 3D and the spiritual realm would intervene and make me feel insane and stop my thoughts.

I just was looking for some advice on this situation. I want my dream life, but I don't want to be rude to the Christian God and I also need to find a way of getting these entities out of my reality.

[liprairian]

So You Want To Be A Librarian

Five and a Half Things You Should Know Going In

This is a post, first and foremost, about burnout. Being a public librarian presents a certain category of problems and attracts a certain type of people - namely, the problems of social aid professions and the compassionate people who go into them. The advice in this post comes from my own experiences as well as wisdom distilled from my parents’ combined 60 years of being in the sister passion profession of teaching.

Here goes:

1) Libraries are not your life. Not your patrons, not your programs, not your advocacy efforts. None of it. Repeat this to yourself, over and over, as many  times as it takes. If you want to survive - or even just be effective - in this line of work, you cannot reduce your identity down to just ‘librarian’. All the advice on work-life balance and establishing boundaries applies here, but don’t forget to think about the ‘identity’ part specifically, too.

1a) It’s going to be really easy to forget 1) when you’re in the warm, righteous, determined rush of feeling needed.

That’s a heady feeling and it’s going to make you want to ignore your boundaries. Sometimes, you will; that can’t always be helped, and breaking your own boundaries isn’t something to beat yourself up over when it happens. It’s a neutral fact that we’re wired to love the feeling of being needed, or we wouldn’t have lasted this long as a social species. When you come down from it a bit, ask yourself what parts of that experience were rewarding to you. Was it the type of social interaction - teaching, caring, giving? Was it a feeling that you had power over your portion of the situation, power to enact what you thought was right? Where else could you get those things if you needed, so that your job doesn’t have to be the only place you experience those feelings?

2) Most people are not going to remember you after they walk out that library door, so don’t do your job to be remembered by them. You’re probably in this job because someone in libraries had a huge impact on you when you were younger, but you need to recognize when and where you’re making your interactions about you and your own self-image rather than your patrons or your role in the community. This can be especially difficult with kids, since kids can be very intense and make you feel like you’re the centre of their universe. When this happens, ask yourself what need you are fulfilling for them and what that actually, concretely requires of you.

3) Suffering is not transactional. We live in a culture that’s built primarily on Christian values, and the biggest Christian story of them all is the success of sacrifice. Jesus, however, was special - that’s kind of the whole point, as I understand the thing. Basically, remember that the amount of blood, sweat, and tears that you put into something does not in any way correlate to the amount of enjoyment or learning or purpose anyone else gets out of it.

4) Understand the system. Where does the money come from? Can you trace it back, not just to grants from the city, but to the kinds of business and property taxes that fund the city? North Americans are brought up with this background noise of ‘infinite growth’ that you have to consciously tone down if you want to be able to assess a situation realistically. I had a boss once who told me, “When you’re presenting to council, always remember that the fire department is fighting for the same pot of money you are.” There might be more than enough money in the world to fund what you want - but is that money in your town? If not, can you bring it into your town? Knowing what your limits are can help you expand them, yes, but it can also save you from throwing yourself after a mirage of glory that simply doesn’t exist.

5) Everything takes more time than you think, even changes away from horrifying practises or towards things that are objectively morally right. Libraries exist suspended in a web of the relationships between multiple bureaucratic organizations, budgets only happen once a year, and most people don’t spend their working days thinking about their community’s library. You’re going to have great ideas for change, they’re going to be realistic and possible and just within reach, and it’s going to feel grindingly slow. Don’t get mad; remember the fire department. Everyone working with you to achieve this change has their own equivalent of the fire department in their life. Make sure things are moving, but make sure you don’t blame people when they’re not moving faster. It’s unlikely that you’re being obstructed out of maliciousness and even on the rare occasions you are, you will get more help from others if you don’t visibly assume it anyway. Make sure you’re using your anger against injustice to motivate you, not other people.

[askamydaily]

My final syndicated advice column

Well, sports fans — my last syndicated “Ask Amy” advice column drops tomorrow (don’t you hate that expression?), and so I thought I would give you loyal subscribers a sneak peek at what I have to say.

I’ve known this moment was coming for the last several months, and the need I’ve felt to try to deliver some final thoughts summing up my experience over the last 21 years has been pretty strong.

Two things tend to happen to me when I’m under pressure: First, I fantasize about quitting, and after that — my mind goes

BLANK.

After that, this is what I tell myself: 

I say ….

No one really cares.

And then I push up my sleeves and try to get the job done.

This particular column was pretty daunting. I have been feeling very emotional, and I was writing it during a time when readers were already saying goodbye to me. 

Wow — what a wonderful connection we have shared! Of course, that connection will continue, but through different channels (this being one), and through different work. 

Read on — and please do share your own thoughts and comments.

Dear Readers: Since announcing my departure from writing this syndicated column, I have heard from scores of people across various platforms, thanking me for over two decades of offering advice and wishing me well in my “retirement.” I am very touched and grateful for this outpouring of support.

The thing is – I don’t think of myself as retiring.

I have led a constant, reliable life. I will read even the worst book to the last page. I have never voluntarily left a relationship, an obligation, or any employment.

(I can barely stand to leave a room!)

But I’m leaving this seven-day-a-week commitment – because I want to, and because it’s time.

My intention is to move on and to do other meaningful work.

Writing this column has given me a glimpse into thousands of lives.

The insight I have gained has inspired and empowered me to listen to my own counsel, to be authentic in my actions, and to – basically – be in charge of my own life, as much as possible.

Showing myself the door at this moment reflects the privilege of good health, strong relationships, years of steady employment, and some prudent financial choices. I’m very aware of how lucky I am.

My favorite way to envision this work is to picture families reading these columns together at the breakfast table and weighing in with their own points of view before reading mine.

And yes, there are still parents and grandparents out there who clip the newspaper and send pertinent columns to kids in college or summer camp, or tape it to refrigerators and bathroom mirrors.

I’ve heard from health care workers, police officers, fire fighters and office workers who say they discuss the issues raised in the column in the break room.

I love knowing that, and I’ll miss having coffee with you.

The questions raised in this space have been used as teaching tools in middle schools, memory care units, ESL classes and prisons. These are perfect venues to discuss ethical, human-sized dilemmas.

On my last day communicating with you in this way, I feel compelled to try to sum up my experience by offering some lasting wisdom, but I’ve got no fresh insight. Everything I know has been distilled from wisdom gathered elsewhere.

Boxer Mike Tyson famously said, “Everybody has a plan, until they get punched ….” Punches are inevitable. But I do believe I’ve learned some universal truths that might soften the blows.

They are:

Show up for people.

Be gentle with yourself – and with others.

Lead with kindness, and recognize kindness when you receive it.

Reserve your harshest judgment. Sit on your worst thoughts about other people and consider the consequences before expressing them.

Be of service by finding something, or someone, to take care of.

Find creative ways to express your feelings.

Admit to your faults and failings, and resolve to do better.

Ask for forgiveness.

Work hard not to be defined by the worst things that have happened to you.

Recognize even the smallest blessings and express gratitude.

Be kind to receptionists, restaurant servers, dental hygienists, and anyone who needs to physically touch or serve you in order to do their job.

Understand that there are times when it is necessary to give up.

Spend time in nature.

Identify, develop, or explore your core ethical and/or spiritual beliefs.

Recognize and detach from your own need to control someone else.

Respect boundaries – yours and others’.

Seek the counsel of people who are wiser than you are. Ask their advice, and listen.

I sometimes supply “scripts” for people who have asked me for the right words to say, and so I thought I would boil these down to some of the most important statements I believe anyone can make.

They are:

I need help.

I’m sorry.

I forgive you.

I love you, just as you are.

I’m on your side.

You’re safe.

You are not alone.

Now that I’m near the end of my movie, I hope you’ll pay attention to the end credits.

Many thanks to Chicago friends and colleagues, including Jim Warren, who found me, Ann Marie Lipinski, who hired me, Steve Mandell, who represented me, and editors Mary Elson, Bill O’Connell and Carrie Williams. Thank you to “Gentleman Jack” Barry, who softened my exit.

And especially to Tracy Clark, a talented novelist who has helped to correct my faulty thinking and grammar for many years.

Finally, much gratitude to faithful readers, who can find me on social media and through my regular newsletter.

Onward!

Love,

Amy

[marvelmaniac715]

My first gift to Chucky is publishing extracts from his very own guide book on child rearing. It’s his perspective on the kids he’s encountered, including his own. I warn you, it’s not to everyone’s taste, even I winced when I read what he wanted me to publish on this blog, but then he reminded me that it’s Father’s Day and that he simply wanted to share his fatherly wisdom, so… here you go.

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Why hello, my name is Chucky, welcome to my childcare guide book. I have many years of experience being around kids, I even have two of my own. In all of my years, I’ve searched desperately for a book or some sort of video guide that could help me understand the young people in my life, but nothing I found ever related to my exact situation. This is the guide that I wish I’d had back in the 1980s. If you’re somehow seeing this Andy, I blame you for everything that’s gone wrong in my life.

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Modern Teenagers:

The most important thing I can teach you about the youth of today is that you have to relate to them on their level. One thing I like to do when I’m talking to a modern day teenager is reference Instagram. Remember how exciting it was when you were a kid and grownups would reference the Batman comic you’d just read? This is the modern day equivalent. Have I ever used the app? Not really, but I did talk to a teenager (thank you Junior, RIP) who assured me that Insta followers are a very valued commodity for today’s youth.

A lot of teenagers don’t actually like me. Can’t figure out why, I’m very cool. If you experience the same issue, I can recommend that you should not aim to traumatise teenagers unless you have a goal, because some of them have the strength of full grown adults along with raging hormones, it’s like fighting the Hulk. Word of advice - it’s usually frowned upon to try and offer a teenager drugs, and many teens will decline before murdering you in a brutal fashion.

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Young Kids:

Kids under the age of ten make better stooges, but if they have good parents, it’s harder to make them do what you want. Some  manipulation persuasion tactics that I’ve used in the past with young kids include:

Convincing a boy that I was sent by his deceased father to be his companion/playmate (successful for about two days, not recommended for the long term)

Convincing a girl that her mother was not her biological mother in order to fill that maternal role with my ex instead

Convincing another girl that I wanted to play a game called ‘Hide the Soul’ then possessing her body (RIP Alice Pierce)

Little kids are surprisingly easy to convince that your way is for the best, but this gift is to be used sparingly in order to avoid the risk of said kid getting wise to what’s happening and not following your leadership. Another top tip - if the child you are trying to manipulate persuade has protective older relatives that are surprisingly skilled with a variety of weapons and forms of combat, figure out at least five potential exits from the situation or else you will be killed.

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Introducing Your Biological Children To Your Interests:

As previously mentioned, I have two kids of my own. Can I tell you how old they are? …No, I’m not actually sure. I wanna say twenty? No… they were ‘born’ in 2004, so… nineteen at the most.

Anyway, my kids- twins, Glen and Glenda- are quite strange. The older one didn’t see the value of murder, and the younger one seemed kinda psychotic when I met them. But still, I tried to install a love of violence in my eldest child, because that’s how I bond with others.

What I did was I took my older child out hunting late at night when their mother was sleeping (‘recovering from addiction’, don’t ask). I even introduced the kid to a celebrity (before mercilessly killing them… oops, I did it again) as we made our way to the house of a guy I didn’t like. My intention was to have the kid watch, but they were clearly so inspired by the incident in the car that they decided to take matters into their own hands. I’ve never been more proud, and I was even prouder a day or so later when they used what I taught them to kill me.

Now, I’m not saying that this technique will work for everyone, but it was very effective for me. Of course, every child is different. I mean, take my little Glenda for example (not so little anymore really). They were in control for all of five minutes, but they used their limited time in control of the body to murder a woman with a flamethrower and then make an incredible joke about it. That’s the sort of talent that a kid has to be born with, whereas my older child Glen had to coaxed into killing, but when they did, it was absolutely glorious.

So my advice to you, dear reader, is to choose an interest of yours that you’re best at to focus on and pass on to your child. If they pick it up and have a talent for it, great! Your talent will live on. But if they don’t quite get it or like it, it’s still a much needed chance to bond with your child, especially if you don’t see them for years.

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Reaching Out To The Children You Haven’t Seen For Years As An Adult:

I have a lot of experience with this. Andy Barclay, Barbara and Nica Pierce as well as my own kids have all gone many years without seeing me, and when I reentered their lives, I did it in a big way. Murder attempts are a classic way to go, but what if you’re looking for henchmen assistants? Two words for you, my friends: compliments and persuasion. Young kids will believe almost anything you say (see above) and older kids who are starved for affection will do whatever you ask in the hopes of receiving more affection. It’s foolproof.

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Final Words:

Kids are interesting, complex tiny humans who don’t quite understand how the world works. I’m not an expert, but I did consult my childhood therapist whilst writing this, who told me the following:

‘Small children are ridiculously easy to mould and teenagers are ticking time bombs of anxiety. He or she who controls children controls the future.’

Do I think that’s a good takeaway from this guide book? Not quite, even I think that’s a tad too far. I just felt it was necessary to include it, because it’s… certainly a quote.

Before I leave you, I’d like to thank and acknowledge the following people:

Tiffany Valentine - the mother of my children 

Glen and Glenda Ray - the twins who made me a father

Andy Barclay - a person who taught me how irritating children can be

Nica Pierce - an interesting adversary and an even more interesting person to possess

Kyle Simpson - for teaching me to never underestimate a woman, especially a young one

Alice Pierce - a nice girl who went too soon

Junior Wheeler - a valuable source of information on modern teenagers

Jake Wheeler - same as Junior, also a promising artist

Caroline Cross - an interesting kid who shows great promise as a killer

I hope you enjoyed my book, hopefully, with the advice I provided, you can be as great as a parent as I am.