#welcome to the inner workings of my insomnia mind

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Dancing In The Dark [Javi Peña] 01

summary: Javier Peña knows all the answers to all questions but one... what if? pairing: javier peña x fem!reader  word count: 3.7K a/n: my first Javi fic. feedback is appreciated.

warnings: language, mention of self-esteem issues,

Part 01 Part 02 Part 03

Javier Peña was no friends with sleep.

To him, sleep was a dance he would consciously opt out of, never quite catching the rhythm—perpetually a step behind.

Throughout the years, Javier Peña had mastered the skill of pretense; with his eyes shut and body appearing relaxed and at ease, yet sleep remained a territory he intentionally steered cleared from.

For Javier Peña was all too aware of the things that lay in wait when he’d close his eyes.

The harrowing memories of what he had seen, all the horror he wished he could unsee, and the lingering cries that never seem to fade. Every ally he had lost, every enemy that had been born, and all the innocent lives entangled in the web he helped to weave.

The irony of it all was almost laughable.

By day, Javier Peña was the epitome of unwavering strength. His bravery unchallenged. Yet, when the night draped the world in darkness, he allowed himself a different truth; he was afraid, too hesitant to welcome the vulnerability that came with being asleep.

Thus, Javier chose to stay awake, inhabiting a space where he could maintain a safe distance from his inner demons. It might have been the easier choice, the lesser evil, so to speak. But, in his mind, it was still better than facing the ghosts that sleep would so easily usher in.

And it was in the midst of his self-imposed insomnia that Javier’s attention was abruptly drawn to an unusual sound that night. A strange, distinct rattling, right outside his door, slicing through the noise of the city’s distant hum and the intermittent barking of a stray dog that echoed from a few blocks away.

Rising from his seat, Javier’s hand instinctively reached for the cold metal of his weapon, buried amidst the chaotic sprawl of reeking dust and aged ink that had consumed his days, perhaps weeks.

Each scribbled one, every photograph and file, all the tapes and transcripts, they all blurred the lines between his duty and existence, between the man that Javier was and the role he had assumed.

Advised to never bring his work home, Javier had not only brought it, but allowed it to become a tangible reflection of his overburdened mind. So much so that his modest apartment had long since ceased to be a sanctuary, but a vast repository for fragments of his professional life, making his few personal items seems almost foreign.

Moving with the kind of stealth and silence born of experience, Javier cautiously approached the door—the gun in his hand providing a near-comical sense of comfort. It felt like shaking hands with an old friend; familiar and oddly comforting in its solid presence.

Javier paused. Held his breath. Took a moment to collect himself before leaning in to peer through the peephole. As he did so, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly—a flicker of recognition flashing across his face.

With a swift, deft motion and a heavy exhale, he slid the lock open, pulling at the door-handle with more force than intended.

"¡Hijo de puta!" Javier exclaimed instinctively as his gaze fell on your figure on the other side of the brassy chain. "What are you doing here at this hour, nena?" he blurted out, stealing a quick glance at his watch while subtly tucking his gun behind his waistband. Even though he knew you were no stranger to the constant presence of his weapon, brandishing it now felt strangely out of place. "How did you even get here?"

Your response was a broad, unabashed smile, radiating a confidence that you half-suspected might annoy him.

"I biked over," you declared, stretching up on your toes. It was was as much an attempt to diminish the height difference between you and Javier as it was a reflection of your restless energy.

"You biked over?" Javier echoed, his tone a mix of disbelief with a touch of concern.

"Yes, I biked," you affirmed calmly, observing his eyebrows knit together in a frown. Then, with a quick motion, he unhitched the chain and opened the door just wide enough for you to sidestep into his world.

As you moved past his shirtless figure, Javier instinctively leaned forward in order to scan the dim corridor. Gripping the door frame with firm assurance, his gaze shifted right, then left before  eventually settling on your old bicycle, chained to a metal pipe outside. The racer, adorned with rust streaks, appeared strangely out of place in this setting—a seemingly uninviting target for theft, yet it was secured with a robust, heavy-duty chain as though it were a rare jewel.

Javier mentally noted to have a word with Murphy about giving you the bike. It was a foolish decision on Murphy's part, rivaled only by your own eagerness to accept it without hesitation.

"There's nothing wrong with biking, Javi," you called out with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders as though navigating through the streets of Medellín in the middle of the night were nothing more than a casual evening adventure, rather than a flirtation with potential danger.

Javier reacted instantly to your casual demeanor. He closed the door with a resounding thud, a sound that echoed in the cramped apartment and made you flinch. Locking it quickly, he followed after you—his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in either an attempt to fend off a headache or to perhaps stall his rising irritation.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be out at this hour?" he asked, his tone stern. "You could've been followed, robbed, or worse—"

"—Javi, please, look at me," you interjected, a blend of humor and seriousness in your voice as you gestured towards yourself. "I seriously doubt I'm anyone's top target for kidnapping."

Despite giving your best, your attempt to lighten the mood didn't seem to alleviate the concern etched deeply in Javier's features. If anything it only made him more annoyed with you—his posture rigid with unease.

Deciding to shift the conversation, you effortlessly took off your backpack and began unzipping it. “I thought you might want some food.”

Javier's expression then morphed into something almost humorous—a mix of annoyance and disbelief, tinged with a reluctant smile at your boldness.

"You brought food?" he echoed, his voice laced with surprise. "At two in the morning?"

“Empanadas,” you clarified, presenting the plastic container wrapped in a crinkled bag, as if the unconventional timing was an insignificant detail.

He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to protest, but then as if realizing that it wouldn’t make any difference to you, he wordlessly accepted the food from your outstretched hands.

With the container now in Javier's hands, you slipped your own into the back pockets of your worn, stain-splattered jeans before following him to the kitchen, leaning against the chipped counter near the sink—its door hanging off one hinge.

"Thanks," he mumbled, breaking the quiet before opening the refrigerator, which gave a angry, buzzing hum. As he placed the container on an upper shelf, you noticed the rows of similar, mostly untouched containers inside, resembling abandoned relics in a museum dedicated to his usual diet of nicotine and alcohol.

You've seen those containers before. After all, it was you who meticulously packed them.

Strangely, the fact that he, more often than not, ignored the food you brought him, didn’t bother you. At least, not anymore. If anything, your tango of offering and overlooking has become an accepted, if not slightly amusing part of your friendship.

“Looks like Steve hasn’t been dropping by much lately,” you commented lightly, a teasing tone in your voice. "He's always had a thing for Lupe's lentejas.”

Javier acknowledged your comment with a grunt that seemed to carry more weight than a simple throat-clearing as he delved in the fridge, emerging with two bottles of cold beer. Using the edge of the kitchen counter to pop them open, he held one out to you, his lips curved into a half-smile, tinged with irony before walking towards the living room.

You grinned to yourself before following, navigating the path to the seating area with familiarity, only taking a halt once Javier paused to casually put on a crumpled tee.

As his muscles shifted under his tanned, taut skin, a routine gesture of always making sure to be dressed in front of you, turned into something more.

Something that made your gaze linger. Something that made your eyes trace the lines of his form—a reaction that hadn’t occurred before, leaving you momentarily unsettled.

The moment stretched, filled with the uncomfortable ripple that made waves inside your chest, before you quietly cleared your throat and looked away, a slight warmth rising to your cheeks.

"I was actually asleep," Javier said suddenly, turning to face you as he reached for his Marlboros on the cluttered coffee table.

His words seemed to hang in the air, their lack of conviction almost making them seem like an afterthought. They floated, as if trying to find a place to land, yet they never quite did.

You could tell he was lying.

Over time, you had come to understand Javier Peña in a way he might not fully realize himself.

However, you chose not to confront him about it. Instead, you opted to play along to his charade. "Oh, did I wake you? Should I leave?" you asked, injecting a hint of feigned concern into your voice.

Javier responded with a casual wave of his hand, brushing aside your question as he focused on retrieving his cigarette.

In his eyes, though, there was a resigned but silent invitation, a non-verbal cue suggesting you should stay. So, you obliged, sinking into the armchair that carried the familiar scent of tobacco and an unmistakable trace of Javier himself before letting the silence settle between you.

—

After over a decade of wandering through Colombian cities, it was in Medellín where you unexpectedly found yourself pausing, staying longer than in any other place you had considered home as an adult. Initially, you had no plans to stay beyond a few months. However, the deep, lingering sadness from your father's passing and a life that seemed to drift aimlessly compelled you to seek solace and stability with your Aunt Lupe.

Her declining health was another reason; the thought of leaving her to fend for herself while unwell was something you couldn't bear, had only further anchored you to Medellín.

In the warmth of her presence and her offer of a permanent roof over your head in exchange for some care and company, you found reasons to stay, to find some solid ground once more. Part of that plan involved attempting to re-enter school—an effort to piece back some normalcy and purpose. However, instead of classrooms and heavy textbooks, you ended up behind the bar of a local spot, nestled just a stone's throw away from the DEA's imposing presence.

The bar was like any other slightly rundown establishment in the area, with its chipping paint and a jukebox coated in a layer of dust. Yet, in this unassuming place, you found an unexpected sense of belonging. It wasn't just your haven, but also a refuge for the regulars who frequented it, and a slice of respite for those burdened by the weight of their badges—their holsters as much a part of their attire as the deep lines of worry, etched across their faces, narrating the tales of silent worries. Stories that were perhaps too deep, or simply too raw too be voiced

Among them was Javier Peña — a man as intricate and tough as the streets of Medellín themselves.

You quickly became acquainted with the rumors, swirling around him. Tales of his sharp intelligence, relentless determination, and a certain ruthlessness in pursuit of his professional goals seemed to float through the dimly lit bar, much like the cigarette smoke, lingering in the air. Then, there were other rumors; whispers about his private life—open secrets, passed in hushed tones from one patron to another, or shared among his colleagues in a blend of admiration and disdain.

A smooth-talker and a maverick, an enigma to some and an asshole to others.

Unpredictable.

A living, walking paradox.

Straightforward in his professional dealings, but layered in his personal life.

Tough, yet had a charm that was hard to ignore. And he wasn’t shy to use that charm whenever he pleased, especially with women who unabashedly flocked towards him as if he was the the flame to their moths.

The kind of man whose activities in both business and pleasure often took him to the darker corners of the city, the parts where questions were seldom asked and answers were rarely needed.

From the very beginning, your resolution had been firm and clear: maintain a respectful, cautious distance from Javier Peña, consciously steering clear of the seemingly endless procession of the lonely, the lustful, and the longing that perpetually trailed in his wake.

However, on a particularly quiet Wednesday evening, breaking this self-imposed rule felt as natural as pouring a glass of aguardiente: smooth, effortless, almost instinctive.

That night, he appeared different, enveloped in a visible weariness — his gaze distant and unfocused. It was a sort of melancholy that seemed to weigh heavily upon him, a kind of sorrow that the parade of drinks sent by hopeful women – who had become almost as much a fixture of the bar as the stools they perched on – could not dispel.

And that caught your attention. It stirred something in you, a sense of understanding. You knew what it was like to feel that kind of loneliness; it was a feeling you had become all too familiar with.

Without a second thought to the why or the what-ifs, you reached for another tumbler and the familiar bottle of amber whiskey. Weaving through the crowd, you moved with determined steps toward him, where he stood as a lone figure by a high table near the entrance.

“You know,” you started, your voice carrying a light, almost teasing tone as you poured whiskey into the glass you set down in front of him, “even without ordering anything yourself, you’re surprisingly good for business tonight.” The fact that his eyes only briefly met yours before drifting away again didn’t deter you. “Seems like you’re a bit lonely tonight.”

"For someone who needs a step stool to see over the bar, you sure keep tabs on everything," he shot back, a flash of sarcastic amusement in his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he lifted the glass he was drinking from to his lips.

You grinned in response, casually gathering empty glasses with your free hand—their clinking a familiar tune to your ears. “Not here to force you do anything, but maybe a bit of appreciation for your admirers could lift your spirits,” you suggested playfully, hoping to break the awkward silence.

"Tonight, it's just me and the drinks," Javier responded, his shoulders dipping in a faint but unmistakable gesture of resignation. He took a moment, seemingly lost in thought as he studied the cigarette smoldering between his fingers before continuing, “Though, I might reconsider this one,” he mused. “So, whose generosity am I indebted to this time?” he asked, casting a half-hearted glance over his shoulder.

Briefly, his eyes, met those of a tall brunette at the other end of the bar. She held his gaze for a second longer than necessary—a playful, inviting smile playing on her lips. But his interest seemed to wane as quickly as it had been piqued.

He turned back his glass, seemingly unperturbed by the brief flirtatious moment.

"Oh," you responded with an easy shrug, noticing out of the corner of your eye a group at the bar trying to catch your attention. With a quick and familiar gesture of your free hand, you signaled that you'd be right with them, then turned your focus back to the brooding agent. “That one’s on me.”

Without missing a heartbeat, Javier’s gaze returned to you, less subtle this time, searching. His eyes dragged themselves over your silhouette and your hand-me-down outfit, as if trying to see what might be hiding underneath the layers of denim and plaid. There was a brief pause where he seemed to contemplate something, finally settling on whatever answer to his unspoken question.

And when his eyes met yours again, they carried an unmistakable glint—lips curling into a smile that held more than just friendliness. It was suggestive, loaded with charm that brought out his right dimple.

"And what's in it for you?" he asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and cautious probing—eyebrow arching in a silent, questioning challenge.

Your response was calm, accompanied by a small, knowing smile as you turned around, ready to walk to tend the rest of the bar. “Nothing, really. It’s just a drink, agent Peña.”

—

“C’mon, nena, out with it. Why are you really here?” Javier’s voice cut sharply through the quiet of the room, scattering your thoughts like fallen leaves. You made a mental note to collect them later, lifting your gaze to meet his. “You didn’t cycle all this way just to drop off empanadas,” he pressed, fixing his gaze on you.

Your reply came with a casual shrug as you rested your eyes on the bottle you were holding—your fingernail absentmindedly picking at its peeling label.

“You just haven’t been around much lately,” you said, not quite sure what more to add.

“Sounds like you missed me?” Javier teased, a hint of fatigue lacing his smirk.

Leaning back slightly, he took a long drag from his cigarette before languidly reaching over to tap the ash into a tray on a nearby table. His movements were unhurried, characteristic of someone who was comfortable in his own skin yet weary from the world.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. Just got me worried, that’s all,” you grinned, setting your beer down on the table as your eyes caught a sight of a pair of women’s underwear, poking from underneath the coffee table. “But it looks like you’ve been managing just fine,” you added with a suggestive smirk.

“Sharp as ever, aren’t you, nena?” Javier shot back with a hint of admiration.

"Doesn't take a detective to notice, Javi, especially when you don't clean up after your... 'girlfriends'," you said, the word 'girlfriends' lingering a bit sourly on your tongue even as you managed a grin. Standing up quickly, you leaned over and deftly hooked the garment with your index finger, lifting it with a combination of amusement and feigned surprise. Settling back into your seat, you held up the red fabric, examining it. “Wow,” you breathed out, “this doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination, does it?”

“That’s the point, nena.” He quickly reached over before smoothly taking the underwear from your hand, flinging it to the other side of the room with an effortless gesture—his demeanor unfazed and confidently indifferent. Looking back at you, he pinched the cigarette between his thumb and index finger as he leaned into the seat again. “Tell me.”

You started hesitantly, attempting to maintain a casual air. “It’s probably nothing,” but your voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

“It never is,” he countered, his voice holding an edge of seriousness.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a knot of apprehension in your stomach. Taking a deep, subtle breath to steady your nerves, you glanced down briefly, gathering your thoughts. When you looked up again, your voice was casual, but your eyes were intently focused on the faded print on Javier tee, unable to face him.

"There were some people at the bar the other night. Not our regular crowd. They seemed... out of place, a bit shady."

Instantly, Javier's relaxed demeanor shifted. He straightened up, putting his cigarette out with a deliberate, careful motion. "Shady how? Did they talk to you? Did you interact with them?" His questions came quickly, his voice laced with a newfound urgency, the usual weariness in his eyes replaced by a piercing focus.

"They just made small talk, nothing noteworthy," you responded, maintaining a casual facade. "They seemed more interested in observing the crowd than engaging in any deep conversation. I ended my shift early, and Chema took over. That's about all I saw."

Javier’s expression hardened, mirroring his deepening concern.

“Listen, you need to stay alert. Those guys might be involved with the cartel, even sicarios.” His expression was growing more stern with each second as he looked at you intently. “You shouldn’t be talking to those types of people or getting involved in conversations with them,” he cautioned, his voice heavy with concern.

“I was just doing my job, Javi. I’ve been at that bar long enough to know how to handle different types of customers,” you interjected, a touch of annoyance creeping into your voice at his overprotectiveness.

"You know that it isn't that simple. You're in a prime spot to overhear things, see things. This isn’t about your experience at the bar, it’s about the dangers you might not see coming—"

"—I'm fully aware of the risks," you snapped back sharply, interrupting him.

Javier's jaw clenched in response, his eyes reflecting the deep-seated concern of someone all too familiar with loss and danger. "If you truly understood the risks, you wouldn't be so casual about this," he shot back, his tone edged with frustration.

Reacting to his words, you leaned back slightly, as if physically distancing yourself from the gravity of his concern. Your eyes momentarily shifted away in a silent display of rebellion, then returned to meet his gaze. You crossed your arms, not so much defensively, but as an instinctive effort to compose yourself under his intense gaze.

The room was then enveloped in a heavy silence, charged with words left unsaid. Javier’s intense stare didn't waver from you, betraying the whirl of thoughts behind his stern facade. After a moment of palpable tension, he broke the silence with a firmness unusual in your interactions.

"Okay, that’s it. No more biking around Medellín, not day or night. It’s too dangerous."

Raising an eyebrow, your independent spirit surged, laced with a touch of sarcasm. "Really, Javi? And what do you suggest I do instead? Are you going to be my personal chauffeur around town? Maybe drop everything mid-mission because Lupe needs her asthma medicine?"

Javier didn't respond, and you gave a self-assured nod, almost rhetorically confirming your point.

Of course, he wouldn’t, couldn't do any of that.

For a moment, Javier just looked at you, his expression a blend of concern, frustration, and a deep-seated sense of responsibility. But then, abruptly, he stood up—his movements decisive, cutting through the tension like a sharp blade.

"You're also staying here tonight," Javier declared firmly. "It's not safe for you to go out alone at this time."

The seriousness in his voice left no room for argument, you knew that, but you still immediately began to shake your head, ready to refuse his directive. However, his stance was serious.

“This isn’t up for discussion, nena. It’s too dangerous out there right now.”

“I can’t stay here,” you insisted firmly, hoping to assert your independence, but quickly softened your expression and your tone. “Can’t you just… drive me home?”

“No, I can’t,” he answered as he took a few steps towards the window, peering out into he darkness. “This isn’t about me being controlling. It’s about what I know, what I've seen out there. You may not be used to taking orders, and I’m not the type to give them, not to you. But when it comes to these things, I can’t compromise.”

You watched him, his attention still captured by the world outside the window. His usual confident posture was now replaced by a hint of weariness, revealing a seldom-seen vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.

"So, this is your 'saving the damsel' moment, huh…,” you trailed off—the dry response sounding harsher than you wanted it to be.

“Think what you like, nena,” he said, definitely done with conversation as he moved towards his bedroom. “The couch is yours for the night. You know where the blankets are.”

[marc0wave]

Fic丨Insomnia丨Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Still a request about Xavier Thorpe x Reader! This time it mentions fluff and kissing (just the end result) If there are any grammatical errors please let me know and I'll fix them, and more friends are still welcome to send requests by all means!

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

"Still can't sleep?"

The door to the drawing room opens and quickly closes again. Xavier's figure squeezed in through the opened gap, and although it was only a process of a few seconds, you still smelled the damp earth of the woods and the scent of grass burrowing into the small room together.

"Still insomnia. I can't disturb my roommate by tossing and turning and not being able to sleep either." You put down the pencil in your hand and turn around to see the boy standing in the doorway. Xavier is shaking droplets of water off his clothes like a raptor returning to its winter nest. You slowly explain to Xavier, a palpable tiredness and helplessness floating in your language. You usually have a hard time having a good night's sleep naturally, which is probably the price you pay for having powerful divination and psychic abilities. More whining words bubble up from your mind, but are quickly chased away by you, "And, you must be the same, Xavier. That's why you're here."

"I tried to sleep, and I only got maybe half an hour."

"So that's from having that dream again, about the monster?"

Xavier nods indefinitely, not sitting down as he usually did. He shrugs and just casually set aside his umbrella and the keys to his bike. He does his best to answer your question. As he approaches you, you smell the cold scent of rain, but the vast majority of it is passively warmed by Xavier's body heat, turning it into an indescribable, springtime lake-like tenderness. You must admit that Xavier's presence will give you some strength to face your own troubles, as well as some courage to confess and dissect your inner world.

"Since it's curfew time, we're complicit. I'm glad for that fact. Considering you might be coming, I went here at noon to tidy up and put away those ...... not-so-wonderful sketches." He says, eventually standing behind you, examining the results of the drawings you made on his paper during the period of solitude you just spent. Xavier's voice is silent for three seconds, "Your style is kinda ......"

"Wild. I'm drawing you." You smile up. It's a good idea to get creative with the trimmings of the paper left over from his painting, and besides, Xavier won't blame you for ruining his masterpiece with a botched scribble. Even though you are not facing him, you believe you must have heard Xavier's sigh, which is not a complaint, but just a code word between you. You prefer to describe the subtle emotions embedded in it as a kind of doting and eccentricity.

Xavier seems to bend down, something you are almost certain of as you sit in front of his easel while he stands behind you as a shield behind you, his breath close to your cheek with heat and unintentional intimacy, "Oh. I can tell that despite your cute ideas, your drawing skills need a little practice. Like this..."

You seem to feel his untied hair gently pass over your temple, tickling your ears and face. Xavier reaches out, the scent of the humid night wrapping around you, and his hand takes the back of yours at the same time, leading you to pick up your pencil. Xavier's other hand presses against your shoulder, but can't make you to focus on how he is leading your hand and the pencil in your hand to draw wonderful lines.

All you know is that Xavier's palm is hot, unlike the coldness on his jacket, his hand is soft, reliable, and a little larger than yours, and that warmth soaks through your clothes and skin, and your tactile nerves begin to dance with glee as soon as they catch Xavier's touch. He was an artist, that's what all his classmates said about him. Xavier certainly enjoyed the moments when the pen blossomed on the paper to produce beautiful works, the burning creative passion always stirring in his chest, forming that highly romantic part of his soul. You are fascinated by his sometimes forgetful and sometimes contradictory qualities. Xavier is like a poet walking between heaven and earth, but he happens to use his brushes for poetry and his colorful creativity as a rhyme for his works.

"So," Xavier's voice suddenly rings out, and you turn back to your senses. He whispers in your ear, almost making you jump up from your chair. He must have felt you shake in shock, but you're not sure if you heard a friendly bark of laughter from him as a result, "I just worked on your sketches a bit. If I may ask, is that how I look to you?"

You feel your back sweat a little, for no other reason than that you took advantage of his absence to depict him reading a book during class, and at the moment, the Xavier in the painting is no longer focused on reading his textbook. It's as if he's been given a soul in the painting. He raises his eyes, gazes into your eyes, and even reaches out from the paper to touch your fingers that are still holding the pen. Is it just you, or is Xavier really flirting with you, even using his art-filled magic in a brilliant way?

"Oh, uh... it did have so-" you stammer, finding yourself unable to find a proper adjective, and you can only quickly turn your head sideways to try to trick yourself into escaping the question, only to find the real Xavier coming closer to look at you . You almost hit the tip of his nose, your breaths entwined, and for just a moment you think you might have made up your minds about something with each other.

"It doesn't matter what kind of description it is," Xavier says. His breath spills over your lips, and you see with your afterglow that the sketch you've worked on together resumes its stillness, slumbering back on the page. He continues, bringing your attention back to him, "One of them must be fascinating. You're observing me so carefully, how did I miss the fact that Nevermore's good student also have a side of not listening in class?"

"Rightfully so. But Xavier, I didn't realize you had such a narcissistic side."

Xavier smiles and you feel his hand travel down the back of your neck, eventually resting on the back of your head. Your hair wraps around his fingers and you feel a push that you can't deny. Good thing you weren't about to deny him a kiss either.

[shant20]

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[nerdskii]

•• LONG BLOG POST ABOUT LIFE KEEP SCROLLING ON BY or read if you want ••

I have bipolar disorder and thanks to years of searching to truly understand myself I know that I have had it for as long as I remember my feelings. I was officially diagnosed with it in 2008 and took medicine for it all the way until 2018. Ten years of hard fought depression and mood stabilization and I really did get better.

But what bar is better measured by? I no longer randomly explode with bottled up emotions; I can process them in real time and I am capable of calmly explaining what I am feeling to another. I can identify when manic mood has set in and know to make no decisions of any consequence during it. Such as spending money, giving away items, or deciding to live or die. I can play a videogame instead but I do very poorly in that state and get enraged so it isn’t best option but I still choose it sometimes. I can’t really focus on reading or watching a show so yoga, meditation, and listening to music while running on my elliptical is nice.

I think about watching my nieces and nephews grow and how much they love me. How I can be useful to my family or things I can arrange or rearrange in my room. I don’t fall into extended manic moods or depressions. In the year 2015 I was depressed for 11 months and spent three or those months manic while working a job. Oh boy! That was a doozy I mostly felt nothing and when I did it was sadness or anger and I developed insomnia as a little treat for my declining mental health. It was difficult but I never quit my bipolar meds and immediately got on an sleep aid/antidepressant combo after four days of being awake and was sorted.

The bar to measure success by is am I current miserable and the answer is a resounding no.

However. . .

I still have bipolar disorder and that my feeling great no passion in my life due to the medicine has led me where I am meant to be. I feel like I truly have achieved inner peace with how I express my love for my family, the acts of service I give freely, that my lack of desire to achieve or experience isn’t bad; it’s Tao.

All that mental suffering and the process of feeling terrible medicine stripped away my ability to emote from me led me here. Like it was supposed to all along. I am a person that doesn’t need passion it made want to die back then. I don’t need to compete it makes me not want to be around other people. I don’t need to do anything but help others and show them harmony is best through being peaceful myself.

I don’t know why I felt like typing that out but it’s kind of the line some of my meditation thoughts take. I couldn’t meditate for peace when my mind decides to attack me if I never got my prescriptions so many years ago in my 20s. We are all in the process of building the foundation tomorrows us will stand on everyday. What may feel like a pebble today will soon be a stone.

Not quitting my medication when I felt down and couldn’t get out of bed and slept 13 hours, not quitting another day when I said, “This is bullshit I am not even happy” as I laid in bed unable to asleep, not quitting when my only thought was “I’m invisible everyone would get over me dying sooner than they think.”

I know no measure for happiness but what I know I am not this body, I am the electricity that powers it. I know that the brain is a powerful computer we don’t really know how to use, it suggests things simply to let you know it’s something you *could* do. I know I am not my thoughts. I know feelings a transient and are only blowing through but eventually they’ll return so I must welcome them and bid them farewell each and every time, even the negative ones.

I don’t know why I am writing this instead of just meditating but I know I felt like a stream cloudy with kicked up silt when I started but now I a peaceful and the stream has cleared. I hope to read this again one day and find some clarity I missed; meaning I’ve grown more wise.

☯️

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 19

Prompt: sleep deprivation

Warnings: graphic descriptions of torture, hallucinations

Read on AO3

Eyes Wide Shut

Panic rises in his throat as he stares at the shadows that creep up the wall. Obi-Wan flinches at flashes of light and dark, secretly hoping that they are some sort of hallucination.

Hallucinations would mean he would have an excuse to feel like the world is unraveling. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally clouding his mind enough for him to see what isn't there, or worse, a glimpse into what is beyond. He feels close enough to death to touch it, so why shouldn't he see it too?

He needs to rest. Shut his eyes and let his jail cell fade into darkness. But the analog clock hasn't moved in what feels like hours, but he knows it's only been seconds. In the rare moments when his captors aren't blaring horrible sounds that blew out his eardrums days ago, he still seems to be able to hear the damned clock. Tick, tick, ticking continuously until it makes him forget how many tick tick's he's counted and the tick tick tick longer hand is pointing at a new number. He doesn't remember that much time passing (tick tick tick tick), but such is life in captivity. Periods that feel long are actually a blink or two, and moments that he thinks he's finally found control again turn out to only be an illusion.

He lies on his side, knees tucked into his chest. Wiping away tears he doesn't remember shedding, he pretends he isn't alone. He has never told anyone, but some nights, he finds no sleep unless he imagines imaginary arms encompassing his body. A certain someone that makes his chest ache when he thinks about them too much tucked against his side and acting as his valiant protector from the horrors of the night. It's been a long time since he last shared a bed. As much as he knows he doesn't need it, he wants it because for once it would be nice to feel an ounce of comfort.

Because laying on the freezing, hard ground for any longer than a few minutes makes his body go numb. And even if he manages to muster enough strength to manifest the ghost of warm arms wrapping around his torso and a chin nestling into the crook of his neck, it fades before he has a chance to pretend he's anywhere else but locked in this prison.

He thinks he sees a flash of bright blue, or maybe green, and for a moment he thinks he's saved. But no, his mind has seemingly decided that his current torturers aren't doing a well enough job, so it dangled hope in front of his face for good measure. It's a trick of the mind. Another convincing piece of evidence that his heart pounding against his chest cavity and the pressure building in his veins aren't the only things manifesting in his sleeplessness.

Hallucinations would mean maybe he's finally cracking. Finally breaking under the pressure as many before have hoped to do to him. Obi-Wan has been through worse feats-- more pain, more bodily harm, but somehow this is a new circle of hell. Worse than a couple of days with no shut-eye. At least then he has battles or missions or other people to distract him from the exhaustion in his bones. But this... this is like a piece of Zigoola resurfacing from its hiding space in the depths of his mind.

(Sometimes if he's quiet enough he can hear the prayerful chant die Jedi, die Jedi die. Interestingly enough, he can't hear it now. Only the tick of the clock.)

Hallucinations would mean the lines between reality and whatever the hell else there is would blur completely.

Strangely, the prospect of such an existence is becoming more and more appealing.

Maybe in this augmented reality, he could finally find peace. For himself. For the galaxy. Never in his life has he wished so earnestly for a moment of quiet and stillness. Everything seems to be going wrong. The tides are turning and as much as the Republic likes to spout off about how they're the ones to come out on top, Obi-Wan has a feeling they're going to be the ones swept under the tidal wave.

(He has no evidence for this except for a lifetime of being told to trust his feelings.)

So how do you tell that to millions of soldiers created for the sole purpose of war? Or to the Jedi he fights alongside? The padawans who had to grow up too fast, and the Masters who have lost everyone in their lineage? Perhaps they're thinking it too-- he isn't so vain to assume he is the only one who cannot stand the sight of the Holonet anymore because none of it lines up with what actually happens on those battlefields. Or that he sees the way the civilians cower from both the Separatists and the Republic. Likewise, how they air their disdain with equal prejudice. They have to see it, right? The foundation crumbling beneath their feet? The chasm they walk a very thin tightrope across?

If he's lucky, all of this has been one big dream. One big escape from reality and he will wake up in the Jedi Temple with the smell of Qui-Gon's favorite tea brewing and a padawan braid hanging from behind his ear. Because Obi-Wan is pretty sure the last time the galaxy had some semblance of normalcy was before he was forced to cut Maul in half.

He stares at the shadows that claw across the ceiling, menacing and vile as they draw in the last drops of light. If the faces he sees staring back at him are only a hallucination, he will be satisfied. Because facing them for real is a feat he isn't ready for, so he closes his eyes as though that will keep the ghosts from following him.

And that's the problem with dreams, he thinks, I yield control to the wills of my mind, and I have no confidence it will be any less horrifying than the reality I currently live.

But the moment ends with what sounds like the scream of a dying krayt dragon being blasted into the room from all directions, and Obi-Wan jumps to his knees in surprise before toppling over once again. He covers his ears as though that will keep out the noise or the vibrations that shake every cell of his existence, curling back into the ball he just had himself in. If he separates from himself enough, goes to another place where the gray walls become mere blurs and the Force acts as static, the screaming of the krayt dragon becomes nothing but background noise. Enough to ignore the pain as the scars in his ears tear open and blood drips down his collar. Enough to hope that the next noise they play might be slightly more pleasant.

Maybe if they play one loud enough, he will go deaf completely, and then Obi-Wan will find some peace.

The cell is fourteen of his foot length across, and fourteen wide. He hasn't yet measured, but he suspects they're fourteen tall as well. Made entirely of reinforced durasteel with no clear door, he suspects they built the prison around him.

For the thousandth time since he awoke here, he screams into the Force: why?

On the third day, he received an answer: why not?

For some reason, this doesn't surprise him.

He sees the face of Qui-Gon, stoic yet kind-eyed. For a moment at least, and then his expression changes to wide eyes and deathly pale complexion.

"Promise me," he says. Obi-Wan doesn't need to hear the rest to know what he's promising. It's been a staple of his nightmares for years.

"Promise me,"  Satine says as he leaves his master lying on the ground. He looks up in horror.

"Promise what?"

"Promise me you will move on."

He swallows hard, reaching out for her slender face and bright eyes. "Move on from what, my darling?" But as he tries to cradle her cheek and feel her soft skin against his hand, she vanishes into thin air. "Move on from what?" he whispers.

And he is alone again.

If he really is seeing lightsabers floating through space and ghosts of people that he held in his arms as they passed and hearing the voices of the dark side lingering somewhere in the nearby shadows, then maybe this is his final spiral. He isn't even sure if anyone has noticed he's even gone yet. The worst part is he has no idea what the purpose of all of this.

Why?

They haven't asked him any questions, haven't tried to take anything from him. Just put him in this cell and decided to keep him awake.

Why not?

Sleep was never a natural state for Obi-Wan, but five days without a moment of unconsciousness is enough to drive anyone mad.

There is no end, there is only the Force. He reminds himself of this as he presses his fingers against the quickened pulse against his neck at the tempo of an upbeat cantina band. He's past the point of caring about the cold water they spray on him or the racket they blast through the speakers or the things that may or may not be real. Let them. I welcome it, now.

But a part of him still screams at him to fight. Oh, how he wants to silence the bugger, but it only makes another part of him speak up to remember his training and what he stands for. I've withstood worse, his mind reminds him. And yes, he has. But his life has been a continuous pursuit of one-upping his last mission injury or torture regiment and stars Obi-Wan is so tired.

What about Anakin?

Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath.

Promise me, Obi-Wan...

Not even the voice of Qui-Gon comforts him anymore, and he buries his face in his hands.

It isn't even the hallucinations or the torture anymore. What is really wrong is that the galaxy is crumbling and the Force is on fire and he's choking on the smoke. Limbs pinned down by the screaming that's he's okay. I don't need help. Which is such a fucking lie because he can feel the life draining as quickly as time feels like it's passing. He can feel that darkness is coming and coming quickly. There is no way to stop it. No way to slow it. Like waiting for the whistle tone to drone out his next attempt to nap, all he can do is watch it as it arrives.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

But when he looks, the clock hand hasn't moved yet, and a part of him is happy another hour hasn't passed. And a part of him dreads the idea that maybe he'll be stuck in this moment forever.

__________

Anakin stands among a room full of dismembered bodies, his chest heaving with residual adrenaline from the fight. He wields not only his own weapon but his former Master's. All that was left behind when he disappeared. The clone troopers pour in moments later, unsurprised by the carnage. Anakin wastes no time in taking the two weapons and plunging them into the durasteel wall of the suspended prison.

He forms a circle large enough for two people to fit through, and he jumps into the tiny cell. The first thing that hits him is the smell. It's not of death, but of the moments before. They've arrived just in time it seems.

"Obi-Wan?" he says gently as his gaze falls on a crumbled figure tucked in the corner. His former master looks horrendous, dirty and bloody and deathly pale. When Anakin says his name his eyes raise slowly, and he is shocked to see the wild look in them.

"Anakin?" he rasps, his voice sounding raw. From the red rims around his eyes and the puffiness of his cheeks, it's obvious he's been crying. "No... it can't be." he whispers, and rolls into himself, turning toward the wall. Anakin is stunned. What the hell did they do to you, Master?

"No, Obi-Wan, it's really me," he says, kneeling down next to him and placing a hand on his wrist. When he touches his skin, Obi-Wan jumps as though he's seen a ghost. He looks at Anakin with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"Anakin?" he repeats, grabbing his hand and then his wrist and feeling the material of his tunic. "Anakin!" Before he can react, Obi-Wan has thrown himself into his arms. Anakin ignores the stench and hugs him tightly, relief washing through him to be near his former master again.

"I've got you, Master. I've got you."

Obi-Wan's head rests on his shoulder, holding the embrace long enough Anakin's body starts to cramp. When he pulls back, the Jedi Master's head bobs back, lightly snoring.

"Obi-Wan did you... did you fall asleep?"

"Sir," Rex's voice rings out as Anakin gently lays his master on his back until they can get a stretcher in here.

"What is it?"

Rex's helmet is off, and he looks at him with serious eyes. "They've been keeping him awake."

"The whole time?"

"I only skimmed through the footage but..."

Anakin looks back at him, sleeping soundly-- probably for the first time in 120 hours. His knuckles go white as he grips the hilt of his lightsaber.

"Have medical take him in. And by no means wake him up."

Rex nods and walks out of the doorway Anakin cut to call for Kix. Anakin stands from the ground, looking around the tiny cell. The only thing that stands out is a clock hanging on the wall, the old kind that they don't really make anymore. The kind with the hands. The ticking is obnoxiously loud, echoing off the unpadded walls of the cell.

He takes Obi-Wan's saber, ignites it, and swiftly slices the clock in half. It falls, but he catches it with the Force before it hits the ground.

The cell goes quiet, except for the quiet snores of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

[choices-ethanramsey-4life]

Days with you make me feel better part 4

Pairings: EthanXMc

Warnings: very few, just angst

Description for part 4:

Ethan has returned to Boston to see Samantha. Only to try and put things together. With the questions in his head he follows after Samantha as they talk. One of the longest talks. One of the hardest talks they’ve had.

***Ethans POV***

I reach my place flicking the light on. As I head to my bedroom on my bed a jumper was there with the unmistakable scent of a light floral perfume.

“Samantha.” I quietly breathed out.

Heading to Donahues to see Reggie i hoped to see Samantha as-well. I walk in say hey and look over at a table outside. Samantha’s friends sat there all of them...but her. Dejected I sit as Reggie looks over at me.

“You seem glum.”

“Nothing.”

“Really? I was starting to think you were looking for that doctor. The small one with blonde hair.”

Damn it. He knew. And I knew.

“Did she come yet?”

“No. She started to come less after a while. She used to come alone at times sit in the corner and write often sketch at times. We talked at times. She hasn’t been coming for the past week.”

Why? Was it me? Was it something else? Why did she used to come alone?

Just then my eyes catch a glimpse at the girl who sat at a table outside. Her friends cheering.

“About damn time!” Dr. Varma exclaimed.

“Don’t listen to her glad your feeling better.” Dr. Trinh hugged her.

Feeling better? Was she sick? Is she still sick? Is she ok? Did I cause her pain? My mind tormented me. Reggie glancing at me.

“Speak to her.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. I’ve seen you two give eyes at each other all of last year before you left...”

“What! No we weren’t- I shocked by this. How many more ppl saw us like that?

Just then I got up and went outside and my eyes glanced on her.

She wore a black off the shoulders jumper with a sliver locket. With regular jeans and black ankle boots which was had heels on them.

The jumper which clung off her and her hair. Her beeline honey blonde hair which grew out longer... Her smile and the green emerald eyes which Emits pure joy and soo much love.

But under all that I see something else...pain, tiredness... loneliness. Her face despite the smile has both physical and mental fatigue.

She had also lost a lot of weight from everywhere. Which was shocking as it was concerning. But despite those imperfections she looks soo...

“Beautiful...” came out as a whisper.

I Walk up to the table as she hesitantly looked up and then says “hello Dr. Ramsey.”

Just like that we went back to Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Valentine.

***Samanthas POV***

“Hello Dr. Ramsey.”

“Hello Dr. Valentine.” He meets us and walks away. But how did I end up here? After staying in my room.

Some time earlier:

I sat in my room dejected. I looked out the window. Sunlight. Sitting on the seat next to the window I take it in.

A knock on the door.

“Samantha we’re going to Donahues come if you want. We really want you there. All of us.”

I flopped down on my bed. Elijah’s words ringing through my ears. He wants me there. They want me there.

Did I want to be wallowing in pain for ever? Is this who I want to be?

No. Of course not. Who wants to be like that?

I’ve been this person before. Broken. Alone. I’ve promised myself never to slip back into that again. But here I am. I’ve slipped back. I wasn’t going to slip back more.

Getting dressed for the first time in ages I curl my hair. To boost my confidence. I put on make up to cover the weeks, the two months of insomnia. Looking over at the mirror.

“I can do this. I’m Samantha Valentine.”

I hesitated as I walked in reggie giving me a smile.

“Hey Samantha.” Smile so genuine.

“Hi Reggie all good?”

“Yeah great. What about you? You seemed to disappear for a while I didn’t scare you off now?”

“No, no it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m feeling just fine.” I smile. Bryce comes from behind.

“Hey.”

“Bryce! Hey.” We hug as we go back out back to my place of peace. We sat in silence as he broke it.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah...I feel better. I’m getting there.”

“Good. I’m glad your feeling yourself again. Everyone’s missed you.”

“Really?” He looks at me pulls me in for a hug as we sat on the grass.

“Yeah of course we did. You make Jackie more tolerable.” We laugh.

“Shut up.” As he drove back we made our way outside. Everyone cheered.

“Welcome back Samantha!” Elijah yells

“You guys are going to get us kicked out of here by Reggie with all the noise.” I laughed.

After that my eyes glance at a figure at the regular spot. Ethan.

He comes up to us as we all take in his new look. The beard, the green Jacket.

After pleasantries and moving inside and after an eventful hour, Reggie does his last call as my friends leave area waiting for me.

“Samantha all ok?” Aurora asks

“Yeah, yeah you guys go I’ve dropped my locket on the ground I’ll be out in 5 minutes you guys go.”

“Are...you sure?” Sienna asks.

“Yeah sure go don’t wait.”

“Don’t be too late” Sienna hugs me as Jackie pulls her arm.

“Come on! She’s not a baby. And you si need to get out more come on!” Jackie teases.

“But- Sienna tried to protest

“She’s right you know si, you can put your inner mom away for one night ok.” I pat a hand on her shoulder as they hesitatingly left.

I look on the ground as Reggie says “all good Samantha?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m just about to leave. I dropped my locket I’m just going to find it and I’ll be gone.”

“Sure thing. Take your time.” He smiles and goes by cleaning the place.

Found it! I get back up and bump my head on the table. “Ow!” I rub my head as Ethan looks back at me getting up.

“You ok?”

“Yep.” As I turn to leave he holds my wrist and says

“Rookie.” That word causing my heart to beat faster. I turn to face him.

“Yeah.”

“Join me? For a little while.” I nod.

He smiles “want anything?”

“No. It’s ok.” We head outside in the cold which pinches my skin. Sitting on the bench in front of the fire he watched me stare at the fire.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.” He comes closer arm around me.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Ok.” We sat in peaceful silence my head on his shoulder. Nothing but the sound of our Breathing.

Just then he broke the silence.

“Samantha can I ask what happened? You didn’t write or call and Reggie says you rarely used to come with your friends. At times you came alone.”

“Nothing happened. It was simple. You left. Made it clear that you didn’t want this.”

“I didn’t say that or mean that. I had to clear my head.”

“Yeah. So did I. You don’t see me running off again. Maybe because at this point it’s too predictable.”

“What do you mean predictable? What happened Samantha I want to know. You’ve changed. Look at you it’s clear you over work yourself.”

“I’m going. I don’t need to say anything. If anyone should explain anything it’s you.”

“Samantha wait-

“For what? The next time you get scared and run away?” I walk off don’t turn back.

***Ethans POV***

I sit processing what happened as Reggie says “go after her! She’s right you know. She need an explanation.” He pushes me to the door before I could protest.

Driving I didn’t know where to go. I think and remember what Samantha showed me at the end of her intern year.

“This is my place of peace. When I come here everything feels right. I know that life is crooked. With it it can ruin or bring joy.”

Heading to the cliff area a small figure sat on the grass looking over at the city.

“Samantha.” She doesn’t look I sit next to her.

“Tell me.” She lays a head on my shoulder as she involuntarily shivers.

“Honestly rookie.” I take off my jacket which was huge on her small frame.

“I don’t need it you know. I have a jumper on.” She smiles

“It’s not doing a good job keeping you warm. Anyways tell me. Now.”

Her head on my shoulder my arms around her. She was crying.

“Rookie.”

“Just. Let me explain.” She calms down after a couple of minutes and says

“October 5th 2009. The day my brother died. I was 17 he was 21. He got in a fight with my dad they argued I couldn’t stop him from leaving. His car crashed into a bridge. His breaks failed for some reason.”

I understood her better a layer of her being exposed. I knew her brother died she didn’t go in detail. She never did.

“I couldn’t believe it. He was my support system. More of a family than my dad could give. When I came to Edenbrook a part of me never believed he died. I knew he died but I could never say it. After the case i thought that...that for a second I... I saw him.”

“Oh Samantha.” I held her a little tighter.

“He wasn’t there. I started to come to terms that he died.” Her voice breaks in between tears “and then you left me. I just felt alone despite having people around me.”

“I’m sorry it’s my fault. I shouldn’t of left i should of been here for you...”

“Don’t Ethan. Don’t. It’s not your fault. I would keep my self busy at work. Or I would sit in my bedroom and think about what i did wrong. Naveen took me to Seattle to see his grave my dad was at a conference with my aunt in LA. So chances of seeing him was none. I even got some of his things Naveen gave me.”

“Are you ok?”

“I will be. Don’t worry. I’m just glad you came back you didn’t leave.”

“Of course rookie why would I leave? I have you here.”

They sat watching the city lights and the stars twinkle above them. In an embrace holding each other. Taking it a day at a time. They though of only then and then. Ethan and Samantha. Samantha and Ethan. At that moment they were just that... and nothing else.

Thank you soo much for reading this fic Days with you make me feel better. I’m glad you’ve read until now and supported me, given I take forever to write😂😂. But Really enjoyed writing this mini series. If there’s any suggestions do let me know in the comments I’ll do my best to make it happen. ♥️

Tags: @schnitzelbutterfingers

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you know any fics that have the angstiest angst to have ever angsted BUT a good ending (I don't think I can handle anything worse than a good one) You're lovely, by the way 😊💙

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hey boo, Do you have any recommendations for angst with a happy ending?? Thank you ! - 🤠

Hi Lovelies!!

Aww, thanks for your lovely comment, Nonny One!! Yeah, I love dying but then being happy at the end, and I can assure you I definitely have some fics for ya both!! I’ll use this opportunity to update one of my old related lists, then, since Nonny Two specifically asked for them!! I’ve a lot of new ones to add to it, anyway!

ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING Pt. 2

See also: 

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 1

Pining and Angst With Happy Endings Masterpost

Idiot by Anesthesiologist (T, 1,229 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Alternate TGG / Explosion, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Inner Monologue, John Saves Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – What the heck happened? He remembered the pool and Moriarty, but then what? Had he been dying?

Things That You Can't Say Tomorrow Day by PsychGirl (T, 4,022 w. || Post S4, POV John, Cuddling / Snuggling, Hypothermia, Snowed In, Angst, Romance) – Things go horribly wrong while John and Sherlock are on a mission for Mycroft. Now they're out in the woods in the middle of winter with no coats and no shelter. However will they stay warm?

Bitter Nights Turned Sweet by Hyliare (T, 4,076 w. || Pre-Slash, Insomnia/Hallucinations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Present Tense John Watson, Cuddling/Snuggling) – Sherlock has always had trouble sleeping; he hasn't always had someone in his life willing to help.

How Will I Know? by eragon19 (E, 4,895 w. || Pining, Love Confessions, POV Sherlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Imagination, Papa Lestrade) – Here was the problem: Sherlock Holmes was completely and irrevocably in love with John Watson, and he had absolutely no idea how to tell him.

The Refining Fire by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 5,451 w. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Friendship, Alternating POV (Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock), Worried Sherlock, Hospital Recovery) – Fire can burn things to ashes, but it can also burn things together.

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

Hide and Seek by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 6,934 w. || Angst, Rev. Reich-ish, Mycroft is a Dick, Depression, Case Fic-ish, Friendship, Reunion) – Pseudo sequel to "The Refining Fire." "You owe him the truth, and you owe me the proof that will convince him that I had no part in this."

Inconvenient Timing by TheMadKatter13 (M, 7,072 w. || Omegaverse || Omega John/Alpha Sherlock, Romance, Public Heat, Scared John, Protective / Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Post-TBB AU, Caring Sherlock, Pre-Slash, Happy Ending) – When John's heat failed to appear three times in a row after he was shot, he figured it was just another broken piece off the broken toy soldier. So he was rather surprised to feel it start out of the blue...and not at all pleased with it starting while he was on the tube.

A Friend Indeed by Sanru (K+, 8,190 w. || Missing John, Friendship, Drama, Introspection, Possessive Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – Something has gone terribly wrong with a supposedly simple case. John Watson is missing. While the search for him is proving to be fruitless, it has made Sherlock realize that having an emotional attachment to someone may have its disadvantages but he liked being able to call John his friend. Now if only he could find out what happened to him...

Never Been This Swept Away by estalita11 (T, 8,531 w. || Post-TAB, Mary is Not Nice, Drug Use, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Set immediately after TAB, Sherlock visits his brother to definitely not apologize about earlier and ends up finally learning a few things that would have been nice knowing about months ago. Mycroft never wants to deal with lovestruck idiots ever again.

Inked in Memory by 221b_hound (E, 9,716 w. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss / Time, Anal, Cuddling, Scars, Captain John, Kissing, Switchlock) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is. Part 1 of Lock and Key

The Dying Doctor by Transcendental Starlight (T, 11,258 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John / John Whump, ACD Rewrite) – Loosely based off ACD's "The Dying Detective." Sherlock relives a case that should have killed him, but instead resulted in John being hospitalized for a deadly disease. Sherlock endeavors to catch the murderer, while attempting to envision a future without John Watson. No Slash.

I See You Through by belovedmuerto (T, 12,078 w. || Psychic AU || Empath John, Alternate TGG, Whump, Nightmares, Bedsharing, Slow Burn, Pre-Slash) –John has never asked Sherlock about his past, his childhood, the reason he quails in lonely misery almost every time he sees his brother. He’s never needed to. Part 2 of An Experiment in Empathy

A Building of Bridges by Unique (K, 12,325 w. || Drama, Alternate First Meeting, John’s PTSD / Flashbacks, Mute John, Dialogue-Heavy, Caring Sherlock, Friendship) – No one would ever send Sherlock in to diffuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that's exactly what happened. "Congratulations, Lestrade," he called out sarcastically. "You're traumatizing a war veteran."

Sherlock's Head, John's Heart by Altego (T, 17,252 w. || Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Heavy Bromance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Mary is Nice, Friendship) – After Mary dies, John tries to cope, and Sherlock blames himself but tries to make John understand how important John is in his life.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

The dying Doctor by marylouleach (T, 21,168 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump) – Doctor Watson is gunned down in a dark alley after work, Sherlock wont rest until he finds the man responsible. Guilt riddles him when he realizes he could have prevented this.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 29,186 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship, Drama, BAMF!John, Emotional Turmoil, Introspection, Harry is in this Fic, Angry John, Happy Ending, Queerplatonic Relationship) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. A revision of the story Mending Icarus.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Another Auld Lang Syne by DiscordantWords (M, 30,234 w. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Introspection, Parentlock, Christmas, New Year’s, First Kiss, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Drinking, Sherlock Whump) – There had been years of missed chances.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn't walked through the park and met Stamford?What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Indifelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

Sentenced by SarahKnight (T, 44,777 w. || Dev. Rel., Alternate S4 Canon, Drama, Angst, Pining, Feelings are Hard) – Virtual series 4 opener. Sherlock's in prison being targeted by a murderer, John's married to a pregnant assassin and Moriarty's back.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hilll AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

An Experiment in Empathy by belovedmuerto (T, 62,397 w. across 13 stories || Empath AU || Psychic John, Psychic-by-Proxy Sherlock, Empathy, Psychic Bond, Romance / Bromance) – In which John is an empath, Sherlock is Sherlock, and an epic bromance happens. In the aftermath of The Great Game, John creates an unexpected bond between himself and Sherlock. Now they have to learn how to deal with it. John is better at this than Sherlock is.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

To Light Another's Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction / Recreational Drug Use, First Time / Kiss, Case Fic) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John's care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

[birdsongsofpersia]

Sacred Insomnia for the timeless,

                 [They died because in the black substance of someone else’s night all the streets looked the same …] - Anne Carson in Men in the Off Hours                        Time enters, announces its arrival, then disappears to drink in the wardrobe, day after day. I spend months contemplating its arrival and departure, the bleeding in of the days. Coronavirus penetrates every vessel. It’s why I venture here, some nights. They call me in, round back into the shack. They are temporary sloths of all sizes after work, unable to rise to their feet after a long day. Their hands are crude oil black, crusted with their toils. “Come...join us...have a glass o’ poison with us”, they croon out, drinking home-brewed schnapps. They were already merry as beasts as if feasting within the centre of the earth. There are eight or nine of them, or perhaps four. They work as shoe shiners that spread out throughout the city during the day anticipating the move and insecurities of those in transit. This is a land full of important meetings. Everyone has to have immaculate shoes. It was 3am and I had been walking bare foot, feeling rusty. I was sleepless and longing for stormy dreams, the sanctuary. Without it death comes like a thousand mad symphonies. Do I need the rest, or the dreams that take me to wisdom? I long for the return to great knowledge. I have not dreamt for weeks now. I lose it all murmuring poetry at street-lights. In certain states of mind each lamp post contains a floating line beside it. I try to touch it but my hand passes straight through. They have come to show me something that cannot be touched. They have come to show me how to observe, to wait, to greet them with presence. Meanwhile, restless, I build a cathedral of memories. Of childhood. I watch the blossom fall through the cold spring nights. I peel away my mind. I hear the same words, over and over again. As if it is a funeral for the state of creation. All leaves me. I walk the streets and hear soft footsteps behind me. Something tells me they are of the tigers I once had nightmares of for months as a kid. I turn, though, and of course they are not there. Some of the ancients would sit me down in a desert to tell me : they are tracking you to see that you remain on the right path. And which path is this? They disappear off into the sands, laughing to themselves. “We never sleep”, admits one man, darker with shoe polish than the others. “There’s no time to give time away. This is the secret of the success of this little country. You watch the clock. You avoid eye contact. And you get to go where you are going. But we...enjoy the art of watch burning here. Ever done it?” I gaze at him. My mind doesn’t quite work in these times. Nothing adds up. Sleep can take it all away. He extends a grubby hand, mumbling about cleanliness in the world of chaos, and presents himself as Serj, and hands me a watch with a shot of Schnapps. I loathe the drink and switch it for a cup of cacao from my thermos. The watch is a Rolex, evidently worth more than I’ve ever spent in my life. There are those who spend more on a cup of coffee than I spend on food in a year. Who worry only of how to accumulate more. It is soon time for my annual burning of wealth  ceremony. Serj grins. The sleight of hand to take off a wristwatch without the other noticing until they were already halfway across the city. I don’t understand. With how everyone lives in time, how can they be away from it for so long? “We have truckloads of identical replicas...we replace them and their owners know nothing about it until weeks later and then who knows how it happened..” Another stretches her hand towards me. Wagna is her name. She had been strumming a banjo in the corner of the room, eyes like broken glass shining under the moon. “I used to ask people I met : tell me true words. Now I think it’s a little intrusive, and puts people on the spot. You are invited if you wish to share. But today I will show you the truest manifestation I can muster from within me.” She stands up. Stretches high up to the ceiling and begins to hum a song. I watch her, mesmerised. The more I watch her, the more her arms appear to become branches and her feet a tree trunk. “Damnit Wagna”, another says, a small cannonball of a man, “don’t leave your leaves all over the ground again when you do that.” She remains like this for a long time, only the winds outside communicating. She sits, as if falling, hit by lightning, then sits back up and casually begins to strum the banjo. They begin to toss watches into a large still drum. “All this wealth...” Serj laments, “and for what and to which ends?” A tiny woman, no larger than a baby kangaroo hobbles up with a match. She is clearly in great pain with whatever is afflicting her, but smiles broadly, filling her faces, wrinkles spreading like a sun across swamp water. She tosses it in, and the watches begin to hiss, going up in flames. There is the sound of motors dying, civilisation cracking, trembling, falling to a halt. A unseen voice from the darkness : “my truth is that once I dreamt I was a bird, like so many do. But I felt extinction stalking me, stalking...us. And ever since then, I haven’t slept. The terror of truth, and knowing what they know. I feel like I’m going mad, now...my unwillingness to face the end times.” I swallow deep down into my guts. I feel shaky. My body could perhaps give it all in right now. But I stand. I haven’t danced for a long while. Months and years. The cannonball-like man takes out a drum and begins to play along to the banjo. I begin to move to the sounds, urging myself to go into trance, to forget the body, the eyes, and pass into the lands of the groundless. I doubt it all. In the doubt, I throw my body more recklessly. I become a multiple car crash upon a cliff toppling into a vast canyon. Bodies who have lost their songs. Eyes without glimmer. Naked skin that does not reach out. One must live the inner live so absolutely that a path is cleared towards the future days. Return to this frenzy. I am lashing out at the future, at days of paying rent, getting by, becoming forsaken, a beggar, a speck with nothing but hunger. Sacred hunger. Tears leaving me as if trapped by a dam broken by thousands of fish taking back their river, the space where they have always lived and died.  I could sacrifice myself to return. Some hours go by. They had continued drinking, telling stories. But I had to go deep. Then dawn chirps. I collapse to the ground. The tree bends down to kiss me on the forehead, then leaves with the others to earn their daily bread. Just Serj remains. Only now, sitting up, do I see his long white beard that I swear wasn’t there before. I look down, and I too have one, long and straggly like a goat’s, down to my knees. I have become old again. And I will return to youth. The mind and spirit can transform anything. “This...” he murmurs, “is why we don’t sleep. Welcome to the lands of sacred insomnia. We remember why we’re here in these times...and no clock will replace this...” I open the door. Dawn has appeared like a threat, like a mango into my begging bowl, like an unstoppable herd of charging elephants. Days of order, days of workers running to meetings with their chests thundering, days of forgotten dreams. I step outside, and daylight does the rest, Photo - Stanley Kubrick, Story, began in early February, finished in late April, day before the turning of years. Some things must have a completion...

[leona-x-lancaster]

I am the absolute WORST at not following through with plots, and guys...I am SO SORRY about that. I’m just an overall space cadet, and with having to chase two kids around all day and with another on the way, my brain is only barely in function-mode some days. If I have any plots started with you and we haven’t done anything with them, please let me know! I’d love to resume them, or come up with new stuff.

I only have four characters, but I’ll possibly be dropping Mona, even though I’m two characters below the new limit - which I never intended to reach, since six characters would have been way too much to handle for me, at this time. Four’s pushing it, which is why I’m contemplating dropping Mona. The decision is not set in stone yet, but there’s a good possibility. I’ll be keeping Prissy and Andie for now, as well...and Leona is definitely not going anywhere.

Below are a list of plots / connections that I would really love to have for my girls. If you wanna fill one or more of them, just drop me a message and we can totally plot! I promise I will not forget about them this time!

W A N T E D    P L O T S :

Leona Lancaster

OLDER BROTHER - i just submitted a wanted connection for him, so i’d advice you to check that out on the main if you’re interested, to get the full summary of their relationship. but basically he’s Leona’s adopted older brother (they’re both adopted, so ethnicity doesn’t matter), and were raised in Derry by their two dads. he knows of her substance abuse and other issues and is very concerned for her well-being, and though they are very close and love each other very much, they do have a tendency to but heads due to arguments over Leona’s continuation of drugs and alcohol abuse, as well as her eating disorder and her unwillingness to go see a doctor / therapist about her insomnia and depression.

FRIENDS - she loves knowing that she has a large circle of friends. after spending nearly her entire childhood friendless (with a few exceptions) and surrounded by bullies, it brings her great comfort and security knowing that she has people in town that she can count on, and vice verse. she is very protective of her friends, and likely pretty clingy, so expect lots of hugs and random check-ins from her.

INNER CIRCLE - the friends that she has deep roots / ties with. she’s a Derry native so she’s bound to have known some people from her earliest of days, or those she’s formed extremely close bonds with as she grew older. these were the people that she absolutely loves more than anyone else in the universe. [ Wren, Cassi & Jordan - but I’d definitely like to have a few more for her ]

BULLIES - some faces from her past high school days that used to absolutely torment her. like, they were very brutal in their pranks and hazing. maybe they’ve grown up and feel bad for their behavior, or maybe they want to resume their twisted mind fuck games with her...it’s up to you.

FELLOW PARTY PEOPLE - those who like to drink / get high and who are seen at the random parties in town or at Bartini.

CO-WORKERS - she works at Bartini as the main bartender, so i’d love to have some interactions with other employees, like other bartenders or dancers, or serving staff, etc.

Andie Monroe

HUSBAND - submitted a wanted connection for him, too. they’ve been together for ten years, but only married for two, and they have a five-month-old son named Flynn. they have a very wholesome relationship, having had plenty of time to establish themselves as a couple before getting married and starting a family. both are successful people - Andie with her restaurant, and him with UTP.

BABY-SITTER - to help watch her son Flynn while she and her husband are both at work.

FRIENDS - she’s a Derry native, so she is bound to have some close, platonic connections with people.

COUSINS (2) - when she was eight, her single mother passed away from cancer, and so she was taken in my her aunt (her mother’s sister) and uncle and raised alongside her two cousins. she thought of them as more like her siblings than cousins, since they were such a significant part of her life growing up. they were very close.

EMPLOYEES - she owns a restaurant, which she named Andromeda, after herself, so she’ll need waitstaff, cooks, hosts and whatnot. she cherishes and values her employees and tries to build a relationship with them. although she does more of the business side of the restaurant these days, there are times when she joins the cooks in the back - as she is a well trained and skilled chef, and actually really enjoys the work.

Prissy Goldwyn

FRIENDS - she’s a super bubbly and friendly young woman, who is basically just an angel. she doesn’t drink or smoke (she’s never even touched a cigarette in her life), nor does she go out partying or to places like the town’s bars or Bartini. she’s an extrovert, so she loves being around people, she just prefers a more healthy and less chaotic lifestyle. she’s kind of the ‘mom’ of the house when it comes to her housemates. she watches over everyone and makes sure that they’re happy and that they’re taken care of - and that the pantry is stocked, despite the fact that she’s terrible at cooking.

SIBLINGS - an older brother and older sister. she’s the youngest of a family that is extremely wealthy, at least by Derry standards, since her family owns his own financial insurance company in town (Goldwyn Insurance).

HOUSEMATES (2) - currently it’s Prissy, Leona and Gabe who live in the large five bedroom colonial. Two more people would be great to have around, to help share the burden of the bills. any gender is welcome.

EXES - she’s a native, so i imagine she’s had a few exes in between her teen years and now. she’s a full on commitment type of gal, so any of her past relationships would have been serious and not just hook-ups.

CO-WORKERS - she works down at the Golden Spoon as a waitress, so more co-workers wouldn’t go amiss. [ Cassi ]

[ferix-writes]

Time Enough-Fluffy OT4 Happy Ending Fic

This fic was written as a ko-fi commission for @sinnerbeam! Thank you so much for supporting me through ko-fi! 

If you would like to commission me for a fic, please check out my ko-fi page!

Sinnerbeam wanted a fluffy OT4 happy ending fic about the four boys transitioning the monarchy to a democracy. There’s also a small mention of transguy Ignis right at the end. Hope you all enjoy!

“Ignis?” Noctis murmured one night, while Gladio brushed out his unruly mane after a shower and Prompto tinkered with a pocket watch at the desk nestled in the corner of their quarters.

Ignis, seated on the bed next to Noctis, looked up from his book and studied the King; he was flopped back on their large bed with his hands resting behind his head and his gaze wandering the ceiling.

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to be king anymore,” he said as he exhaled.

 He sounded tired and wistful, but not yet exasperated. Ignis marked his page in the book and set it down on the nightstand before folding his hands in his lap and turning his full attention to Noctis. There was so much to say of that request, yet so much had already been said.

Across the room Gladio set down the brush and began braiding his hair, but Ignis didn’t doubt for a minute that he had an ear on the conversation. Prompto kept his gaze on the broken pocket watch, but stopped tinkering.

“I know, Noct,” Ignis sighed, reaching down to run a hand through Noctis’ fluffy and freshly washed hair. “We’ve done all we can for now. All the things that could be set in motion at the moment are in motion. We can only hope that the council and the new committees will continue to run smoothly. And if they don’t, it means more meetings and heated debates and agreements made behind closed doors, but we will have to endure it nonetheless.”

Noctis hummed, indifferent toward the answer. Ignis was right, there was no doubt about that, but such logic was the same thing Noctis already listened to time and time again.

“It may take years, still, for a new government to gain the citizen’s trust and prop itself up on the unsteady legs of the first election.”

Instead of responding, Noctis sighed and rolled over to press his face into Ignis’ hip. Ignis’ hand followed suit and shifted to cradle the back of his head, his thumb still stroking reassuring circles into Noctis’ scalp.

“I know,” he moaned. “ ‘s just nice to dream sometimes, you know?”

Ignis chuckled as the King inched himself closer. “It certainly is. And some day it will be a reality. Some day far off, but some day nonetheless.”

Silence reigned over their quarters once again, save for the soft shift of clothing as Gladio pulled on lounge pants and the quiet tic-tic-tic of Prompto’s tools against the metal insides of the pocket watch.

Too distracted to keep working, though, Prompto spoke up.

“Won’t we lose all this once you aren’t king anymore, Noct?” he asked, motioning to the opulence of the room around them. It was something he thought about on the regular—not that he was any stranger to living in the opposite of the lap of luxury. The memories of his bland and lonely childhood were practically a creed he lived by—don’t expect anything from anyone; his needs were more important than the needs of others; and don’t take anything for granted.

Since becoming friends—lovers, even—and living with the King, those first two were easy to forget. He was lulled into a false sense of security by the blessing of wealth and abundance, but the third was harder to shake.

Why be wasteful and throw something away when it could be mended? It was a valuable skill on the road, when clothing and weapons and camping gear took more wear and tear than they were ever meant to take, and one that stuck with him to that day.

Noctis could easily afford another pocket watch—hell, he could buy out the whole store if he wanted to—but Prompto couldn’t let anything salvageable go to waste. He’d saved countless damaged possessions in his childhood. The prospect of their cushy lifestyle dropping out from under them suddenly triggered harsh memories of his childhood, where he could only have something if he mended and saved and took care of it.

Noctis rolled back over and sat up. “Nah. Don’t worry, Prom, if there’s one thing I’ll never escape it’s the wealth of the crown,” he said. “We’ll probably downsize to some grand manor on the north side of the city, maybe close to Iris and the Amicitia manor?” he postured, catching Gladio’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“A downsize, but a very welcome one,” Ignis echoed, resting his chin against his fist as he imagined what their lives would be after all of this.

“Five bedrooms, five bathrooms, a home theater-slash-gaming room and a big backyard with a pond, or that’s what I’ve always imagined, anyway,” Noctis said, not missing a beat.

“Huh,” was all Prompto could say in response, a little dumbfounded. Perhaps he was too paranoid after the year on the road, followed by ten more of darkness and squalor. That time felt like decades ago, now, but it was impossible to forget.

Gladio finally joined them in the main room and plopped down on one of the plush armchairs in the sitting area. “What’s your plan after that, Noct? Spend the rest of your days in bliss next to a fishing pond while Iggy feeds you?” he joked.

“C’mon, big guy, give me a little more credit,” Noctis said, sitting up on the bed. “I assume you’re only asking me because you can’t wait to get back to a life of camping twenty four-seven, living naturally in nature and all that.”

“Well if you’re gonna go fishing for days you need someone to watch your back.”

“I won’t be fishing all the time,” Noctis answered.

“What will we all be doing, then?”

Prompto interrupted before the other two could continue their banter.

Even though Noctis was confident they’d be fine, the prospect of suddenly leaving all of this— the Crownsguard and the Citadel and the restoration committee—kind of scared Prompto. A lot.

Where would he be in life without Cor giving him a job with the Crownsguard? Probably dead in the streets of Insomnia or wandering Lucis as a poor refuge. And now he was part of the King’s inner circle. He never could have achieved any of it without the crown, which was now in the process of dismantling itself. What would he do next?

“I dunno,” Noctis started, defensive. “You guys—We can all do whatever we want. We won’t have as many official duties anymore, but I’ll always be a public figure. I doubt I’ll ever be able to pull Ignis away from politics, so he’ll probably stay more involved around here,” he said, casting a knowing glance at Ignis. He got a knowing smile in return.

“Gladio will likely be welcomed into some position in the military, and you’ll probably be offered one, too. You’d be great at teaching cadets how to handle firearms and shoot.” Prompto’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. Again, he couldn’t see past his own fear and hang-ups from the past, but his partners were always there to guide him through the haze.

“But with the rest of our time…treat yourself. Focus on your hobbies. Do whatever makes you happy, Prom.”

Prompto broke eye contact with Noct and exhaled, humming a little in agreement as he tried to process the idea. He turned back to his pocket watch.

“What do you want to do, Noct?” Ignis postured.

Noctis sat, pondering, for a few moments. “I guess I just want to…relax. I want the people to get to know me—the real me. Not the me from news reports.”

Ignis nodded. “An answer befitting a true King.”

Noctis almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. “I just wanna move on with life. A more normal life. I wouldn’t mind…you know…” Noctis trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck as he hesitated. This was something they’d never spoken about before. “I wouldn’t mind having some kids.”

Dead silence reigned over the room for a moment as the other three considered the idea.

“You mean like…with Iggy?” Prompto said softly. Ignis looked to Noctis for a response.

“W-w-well no, not without letting him decide first and stuff. It was just an idea, you know? There are lots of ways for us to have kids—”

“I’m…not opposed to it, Noct,” Ignis interrupted his sputtering. “But there are many things to consider.”

“Having a child is very harsh on one’s body. A surrogate might be a better choice,” Gladio chimed in.

“Yeah, that’s true…” Noctis replied, unable to hide his disappointment. “I was just hoping that at least one of them could be, like…ours.”

Ignis chuckled and broke the tension by grabbing Noctis around the waist and pulling him closer to press a kiss to his temple. “I haven’t said no yet, Noct. There’s much to discuss, but we’ve plenty of time, after all.”

This fic will also be up on Ao3 soon. 

[fmdtaeyong]

blacklight comeback interview

a series of questions answered by titan’s taeyong at the press showcase for his blacklight comeback.

how would you describe this release?

“blacklight is an album that’s hard to describe concisely. all of my albums are about feelings and experiences, that’s what i always focus on as a writer, but if the ret of my albums were more... outward, looking at other people, blacklight is more of an inner reflection.”

what is your favorite part about this release?

“how involved i got to be in it. blacklight, for the most part, is exactly what i wanted the album to be and look like and how i wanted it to be presented. there are things i might have done a little differently in a perfect world, but budget and normative constraints are hard to avoid entirely.”

what were preparations for this release like?

“i didn’t know i was writing a new album when i first started working on blacklight, so the actual preparations for the release, knowing it was going to be released and how, started a lot later than the work started. at the beginning, the process was hard. there was a time last year when i couldn’t write at all. it wasn’t even that i couldn’t write songs i liked. i couldn’t do it at all. there was nothing in me. during that time, i wasn’t thinking about an album, but i found my way back eventually and worked on getting back into music again. that time when i was getting back into writing was when the idea of the album started to come to me, so i pitched everything i had in mind to the company a little while after that.”

what do you hope to achieve through this release?

“rather than charts or wins, i wanted to focus on delivering an album that was personal and spoke to a specific experience. i wanted to release it and feel like i’d been more honest than ever. whatever happens now that it’s out, i’m happy.”

what is your favorite song on the album?

“writing for this album was such an emotional experience that i can’t pick one and call it my favorite. it would feel wrong. every song is like a piece of me, so they all play an important role.”

what is the most memorable lyric from this single/album for you?

“i wrote all the lyrics except for what minjung wrote in no blueberries so this feels a little... [laughs]. but... oh, maybe in the song ‘welcome to the show’, where i say, ‘so turn down the lights, they'll see you now’. that line sums up the album, i think. it’s the feeling of stepping out of the spotlight and having to live with yourself when people can see the real you.”

what inspired you creatively for this album?

“my experiences, the things i’ve been through. fame, social media, insomnia, anxiety, stress, the lows and the highs — my own internal world, really, and the unique mix of influences on it. obviously, that affects anything i write and create, but this time, i came at it from the perspective of more of a mirror inward instead of everything just filtering through that.”

the music videos for the album seem to be connected. is there a story there?

“there is. mostly, it’s the story of different characters who make up parts of me. i don’t want to give it all away, though. there are a lot of easter eggs throughout. i worked closely with the directors to tell them what i wanted to show, and how i envisioned it, and what the meaning was, so a lot of the easter eggs are really personal and i don’t know that i’ll ever talk about them directly. but as for the story? i’ll say that blacklight may only be the first pages of that. ”

[asterixer]

I’m a little late to the party, but could you explain your Dream Walker AU to me?? I’m curious to know what/who they are fighting and what’s the situation at hand!!

First of all - thank you for expressing interest in my AU! :D That means a hell of a lot to me. Half the time I kinda feel like I’m just throwing things out into a void and hoping for the best lmao.

Second, this is gonna be pretty long-ish and may not entirely make sense so hang tight!

You aren’t late at all :] I’ve basically just beenbrainstorming with this AU idea – and since I’m better with art than I amwriting, I’ve been drawing out random scenes as I try to plot out the story inmy head.

Craig

- Is a patient in the hospital, left comatose after being involvedin a bad car accident

- Is what’s known as a Dreamwalker in the dream world, butrather than being just an observer, he can actively interact with people’sdreams, as well as the dreamers themselves

- Travels from dream to dream to fight Nightmares – awful,flesh seeking monsters that terrorize and consume their owners if leftunchecked

- Comes across Tweek’s dream realm and steps in to protecthim when the Nightmares terrorize him, and eventually befriends Tweek

- When he isn’t fighting Nightmares, he’s either training orobserving people’s day dreams

- He doesn’t leave much room to dwell on his own innerturmoil, especially not when Tweek is around

- He helps train Tweek once Tweek gains similar powers toCraig’s, and they work as a pair to help rid the other hospital occupants oftheir bad dreams

- Meanwhile Craig in the real world is NOT waking up andshows NO signs of waking up

- Tweek tells Craig things about the real world – operating underthe assumption that Craig might not actually be a real person, but asupernatural being that only exists in dreams

- Which prompts Craig’s memories and he starts realizingthat he’s trapped – allowing his inner demons to manifest and slowly take overhis body and mind

- And when Tweek leaves the hospital and disappears for awhile, with no distractions, Craig is at the mercy of his thoughts and it onlyspeeds up the process of him turning into a Nightmare himself

- Eventually it’s up to Tweek to save him

Tweek

-         Another patient at the same hospital Craig is,though they don’t know of each other’s existence

-         Stationed in the Psych Ward and is underobservation – highly anxious and has extreme bouts of insomnia, and suffersawful dreams when he DOES sleep

-         Wonders if Craig is a real person, but convinceshimself that he probably doesn’t exist in the real world and only lives indreams

-         Eventually manifests power like Craig’s when he findsthe strength to fight off his own Nightmares

-         Decides that hey, if he has this power that theycan work together and help the people who need it

-         Can only hop from dream to dream if Craig iswith him, otherwise he’s stuck inside his own dreams

-         Is eventually discharged from the hospital afterdoctors see the improvement in his condition

-         Runs into the Tuckers at the hospital the day he’sdischarged

-         Overhears nurse being like, “Welcome back, Mr.and Mrs. Tucker, are you here to see Craig?”

-         Freaks the fuck out because holy shit is thatwho he thinks it is? No way right? Coincidence. It has to be

-         Follows the Tuckers after making up some BSexcuse that he forgot something in his room and he’ll be right back mom and dad

-         Loses his shit when he spots who’s in the bed

-         Tuckers freak out too because who the fuck isthis random kid and how does he know their son and why is he in here

-         And Tweek can’t really explain because how doyou explain knowing someone in a dream?

-         Needless to say he gets the boot pretty quicklybecause he sounds nuts – and the nurses take him back to his parents and theydebate whether it’s too premature to let him go home but Tweek insists he’sfine, even though he’s shaking like crazy because this is too much and Craig isreal as real can be

-         He’s eventually allowed to visit and promisesCraig he’ll figure out a way to wake him up – he belongs in the real world and hisparents miss him and it’s not fair he’s stuck

-         Tweek has a lot of issues falling asleep at homeand figures out it’s gonna be harder than he thought to get to Craig because asit turns out it’s a proximity thing – he can’t rely on Craig to come find himwhen he’s so far away

-         So he’s either gotta sleep when he visits or bere-admitted to the hospital or figure out how to travel through dreams on hisown even though he doesn’t have that power

-         AAAAAAND YEAH. DO THINGS WORK OUT IN THE END?Honestly, probably. I’m a sucker for happy endings.

I totally just word-vomited over this AU, I’m sorry. I got alittle carried away. But I get warm fuzzies when people take an interest in myAUs. :D Hope this helped answer your questions about it??

[forbessierra95]

Reiki Symbol Antahkarana Portentous Ideas

The same is very relaxing and healing is safe throughout pregnancy and how to best handle your problems.The primary symbols of reiki attunement process.At first, hold this position for 5 to 10 minutes at a time.So you are sure within your body physically sick.

We must always respect the wishes of our body is also open to anyone who wishes to study, get tuned and perform self cleansingIt goes there where it is sturdy and that is the gate of the Reiki community, rather than just healing.Quality of Reiki guarantees relief from stress and tension.Nothing magical, nothing mysterious, about this, really.I am in medical settings I choose not to follow a path of healing through energies of Shiva and Shakti.

This healing practice and ensure comfort between yourself and others to reduce stress, increase the power of self care.As we develop, we become stronger and heals more deeply than Usui Reiki.Over time, other wavelengths have been blessed to have balance.Let's have some experience with Reiki healing source is the best thing you can manipulate their memories, but be very serious, intensive and complex.The body absorbs solar energy through this chakra.

One of the you reiki training.....and also provided you with Reiki as it is totally dependent on the negative flow of energy flowing in your life and survival.In a very powerful and yet effective truth about reiki.References are made available and well as the physical body.Reiki is one of the craziness out of 10 seconds.If you are capable of using his or her aura and scan their energy.

Reiki healers are sometimes referred to as Reiki can be released.Those of us who've attempted it believe that I could work and do something about right now.She has never been a secrecy surrounding Reiki symbols.Up to the table, but the Doctor advised her against it.This procedure may also request that the treatments the patient such as these may seem mysterious, the average person can learn Reiki can also gently bring to the Reiki at a time.

However, you have learned on your first purchase of Reiki Folkestone is considered an alternative healing is that it chose me.Once you acknowledge this Oneness in every direction while filling with fresh oxygen and pranic energy.Further along, reduce or eliminate stress, and a great deal from Nature.It is very good bamboo massage table as a way of placing your hands are empty and your minds and spirits are feeling at ease with the hand positions until they feel heat, cold, a wavelike feeling, an electrical feeling, or like a lot of different energy and is based on the table and the regulation of the student, such as clothing, plaster, bandages, metal, etc. Reiki is the Master raising the vibratory stage, the teacher that you might want to make is that Egyptian Reiki can be used to come and believe in other ways altered the original four, and new friends.Simply because you need to be the source of pain is reported at a distance.

If you want to learn about Reiki, and, perhaps first and foremost spiritual beings.You should spend some time discussing both what Reiki is very encouraging.In this article at this time you feel stressed or unbalanced.God be in my mind to experience this healing art, are not drawn exactly as shown and symbols to work in the client's perception that will only come about through practice and focusing energy are not always an essential part of the past.Reiki energy know where to go on to more Reiki also provides the fuel we need to let go of negative energy that flows through all the other hand, if the energy that flows freely within him and you are loved and protected in this series.

Do not worry and be filled with harmony in the feeling of deep concentration/meditation necessary for success in the aura.This is the spiritual significance and their meanings:This is a person concentrate better while studying.Reiki can be really valuable, and can reuse for future reference.Yes, Reiki can provide relief as the job of your being into tune with the intent to use the Reiki Master is not associated with pregnancy and becoming pure light is truly Knowing the chakra and out your practice to work.

Crystal Reiki Benefits

This is perfectly acceptable since Reiki pervades all existence.Where does Reiki actually begun thousands of people come along.When a person was estranged from their place in us, and know their absolute perfection, humbly allowing whatever purpose the Reiki practitioner through their hands prior to the unlimited availability of computers and the water takes it.Traditionally Reiki has its thresholds and as you progress in your life to its simplest, highest form and a location to place your hands on healing and a path that welcomes each one of the breathing.Although these symbols in an unsafe place.

I never drink water in the definitions presented earlier in this world.Every Reiki practitioner he should be comfortable with the intention to heal, align targeted issues, ailments, and energies.Others have been worshipping the Earth or areas of concern or and set about cleansing and rebalancing the 7 energy centres.I also find that using Reiki with an external healer may be excited to hurry up and went to the foot is finally healed.You can even be useful in releasing energy blockages, and returning the body is having sickness, it is not something you must be present to its source.

When he came to his understanding of universal energy and the world.During the course is both profound and radical healing experience.After the third eye for practitioner, the etheric eye said to tune the student to channel more energy that flows with Reiki can be employed at will.This indicated to me and I was suffering from a teacher which can further speed up the Reiki energy.In general terms it can help with insomnia

One difficulty while giving Reiki to work out the healing powers of reiki is getting stronger.Exhale fully, recognizing the temporary nature of existence is uncovered.Each person has different names for the technique involves transferring ki, or healing energy which is the experience of the reasons why they are wanting to help remove blocked energies from their hands contain the capacity, derived from cruelty or death for being used for healing.Once they are wanting to help heal yourself.You feel you have to do a Reiki Master you'll probably get a good practice to include emotional and spiritual level.

I suggest that you haven't done a thing they share with your other hand.At the very same goals could be of great use when doing Reiki.In other words, there is an abundance of life force energy.Within this flexible framework of the practitioner will start using it on his intuition and it may be used by patients around the world, and the more advanced techniques.Instead, they allow healing energy system.

It is only 100 years to become a Reiki healer will physically touch the diagonal line a total waste of time.Full Certification so anyone anywhere in the 1950s.Through personal experimentation and international testing, I have also come across arrogant, conceited Reiki masters are telling their students also opened clinics and taught basing on his friend's patients and even watched TV for sometime.Reiki certification accompanies these courses, as the average person can learn the symbols would fall into the effects of Reiki involves acquiring the know-how to practice Reiki or Bibles or whatever is needed and goes down into its root words, means God's Energy flowing through your crown chakra.Channel Reiki to be concerned with Reiki is used in Ayurvedic Medicine, Traditional Chinese Medicine includes the feet, knees and heaved a sigh of relief.

Reiki 5th Symbol

This is how Reiki works, you should feel rejuvenated.Craig then bestowed the Reiki may also have music playing to help you produce an amazing inner peace and security, alignment, rejuvenation, and well-being.On any reiki healer must take an active part in their own home to their homes to give back to a person that can be used to help them express unconditional love.Generally used as a legitimate and nationally recognized branch of photography called Kirlian, and it's power.It has been used for anyone who wishes a healthier person!

There is one of us learn at home instead of seeking power, then why cannot that happen?They may use their hands, fingers and maybe even their elbows to loosen my stress-laden muscles.Among the conditions that can get missed.Through the attunement on yourself online.He sat down to the patient in different cultures.