#MY SON PLEASE DOUBLE PLEASE TRIPLE PLEASE

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Love

Synopsis: Emotions run high after you and your knight were attacked, and though it was the most unfortunate of events, you would have to thank it for all that would transpire after. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Secret Relationship, Fluff, Mentions of Violence PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I have decided and we shall all expect the addition of canon characters in the next coming chapters!

“I— I saw them on their way to the hill, her seated on a white stallion and her knight holding the reigns. She was wearing a… a pink dress, and there were flowers and ribbons in her hair, and she even bid me ‘good morrow,’ but that was all, I swear! I never told anyone that I saw the princess by the grove; please, you must believe me!” The prince looked upon the woodcutter, who was one of the last persons who had seen his sister and her knight. You and Ser Aemond had left early in the morning two days before for you wanted to have a picnic on the hill, they granted you permission, thinking the two of you would return by midday, but two days had passed, and naught a word nor sign appeared to tell them the whereabouts of the princess and Ser Aemond. 

The prince gritted his jaw and nodded, the testament of the woodcutter believable. He turned to his father, who was growing impatient and was consumed by his nerves. They had no idea what had happened to you. They had sent out search parties since the afternoon you had left, but none still had seen you. “Next!” A voice announced as another witness stepped towards the throne where your father sat and your brother stood next to. “Your Highness, your Majesty; I—I have not seen the princess, but I have found this,” The prince paled as the man raised the eye patch of your knight. “I have seen the princess’ sworn protector a couple of times in the city, and I believe it to be his— his initials are carved on the leather.” A squire brought the found eye patch to the king, and they witnessed the ‘A.T.’ engraved on the strap, signifying that it was truly your knight’s.

The prince gave a hesitant nod for the next witness to come and hoped it would give them the answers they were desperate for. However, it was just the same information given— you were seen near the grove with your knight. “This cannot be. Double—no, triple the search parties, and extend their territory. I want my daughter found!” The king almost yelled as he was with his son and the council in the privacy of his study. “Of course, my king,” A council member bowed and hurriedly left the council room to do the king’s order, and in exchange for him came a knight. 

“My king, the princess, and Ser Aemond had been spotted by the gate,” He said, almost out of breath. The prince immediately stood and went to the window and witnessed that it was truly you. The prince ran out of the room to meet his sister, pushing away all the members of the court who had flocked as they were worried out of their minds about the disappearance of their princess. The prince felt further dread pool in his stomach as he saw the state you two were in. Your dress was torn, your hair disheveled, and a speck of dried blood by your temple; the cloak of your knight draped over your shoulders to keep a part of your torn dress concealed. Ser Aemond, on the other hand, had dried blood trickling from his thigh and arm, pieces of his cloak to bandage his wounds— and what was most shocking was the lack of his constant eye cover which revealed more of his scar and a gemstone in his eye-socket. The prince looked away, fearing he would offend your knight if he continued to stare. 

“Oh gods, sister…” The prince’s voice was barely above a whisper as he could not believe the state you were in. “He needs a maester— Ser Aemond needs a Maester,” You fretted as your brother enveloped you in a hug, though you found comfort, you could not be calm as your knight still held his injuries. “I’m fine, princess,” Aemond interjected, more concerned about your well-being than his, but you parted from your brother and shook your head furiously. “His wounds, it might grow infected— a maester, please!” You pleaded, and before anyone could do your plea, your father came and immediately took you in your arms, your mother following behind him. “Oh my darling, you’re alive— you’re safe,” Your father finally breathed out a breath of relief, but you quickly parted from his arms as you turned to a squire and urged him to fetch a maester. 

“Why are you hurt? Where’s your injury?” The king began to fret once more, but you shook your head, unable to answer him until a maester came for Ser Aemond. “Princess, truly, I am fine,” Aemond said quietly, fearing your anxiousness would catch the attention of the court who still circled around you. He feared your understanding would be found out by the way you fretted over him. “Bu—“ You were cut off as your brother spoke, “Here’s the maester now— sister, come, we must get you inside, Ser Aemond will be fine,” Your brother said and gently pulled you to guide you inside. You gave one last look towards your knight, his eye imploring you that he would be fine before you reluctantly followed your family inside the castle. 

After the events of the two days were cleansed from your skin, you sat in the sitting room of your chambers with the whole of your family before you. All of them were cautious as to how to question you on what had happened, so all of you sat in silence. You stared at the fire, your mind still consumed by Aemond, fearing that his injuries would grow worse after days of being unable to treat them properly, but the faint yet distinct sound of his armor from the other side of the door made you quickly look up. “Is that Ser Aemond?” Your brother questioned as he noticed your attention was turned to the door. You did not know, so your brother went to confirm, and indeed, it was your knight standing by his post bathed, with clean bandages, and wearing his eye patch. You followed your brother and grew confused as your knight was in his post, your eyes silently imploring him that he must rest, but your father called upon both of you. 

You went back to your seat, and your knight stood behind it, stance straight and ready to answer any query. “What has happened?” Your father asked the simple question. “We were attacked.” You answered, surprising the king because he aimed the question at your knight. “We were ambushed on our way back to the castle. They placed a felled tree upon our path as a distraction— it was too heavy and wide to be moved or be lept by the horse, and in consequence, we had to take the road less traveled.” Aemond explained, and you rested your back on the cushion of your chair to see your knight better from your peripheral vision. “They… had shot arrows at the princess’s horse, making her fall, and before I could make my way to her, three men attacked me while the other two took hold of the princess…” Aemond paused as he felt the familiar dread he felt as he heard your desperate cries as two men took hold of your frame. 

“And then?” Your brother dared ask. “When I had killed the three, I found them in a distance. They tied the princess upon a tree and…” He trailed, having difficulty to utter the words before your kin. “And?!” Your father roared, his mind imagining the worst in the few seconds of Ser Aemond’s pause. The knight straightened his stance, his eye growing darker. “And they had torn her dress and attempted to sully her— but before they could lay another finger on the princess, I had cut their hands and taken their lives.” He said coldly, finding an odd sense of calm as he recalled their lifeless bodies falling upon the dirt ground, the fitting retribution for what they dared to do to you. The king let out an exasperated sigh, his hand running along his face as he felt rage consume him with just a retelling of what had happened. “Did they suffer?” The king gritted, surprising you and your brother with his question. “The three had rather swift deaths…. But I had made certain that the two would endure each minute of their death.” Aemond answered, the king giving a satisfied nod.

 You traced the embroidery of your dress as you glanced towards your knight. Aemond glanced towards your fingers, your nervous habit of tracing the delicate stitching of your gowns. He was itching to have somewhat a hold of you for fear you were still traumatized at the scenes you had witnessed. He remembered your scream; it still echoed in his mind, as well as the horror on your face as you begged him not to kill another bandit, but how could he not? When all of them threatened your life, and all had the goal to harm you and take you from them— from him? 

“Well, Ser Aemond, you have proven to us once again how well you take your duty— thank you. We… we are not certain what will befall our daughter if it was not you who was with her,” The king commended, and Aemond nodded. You sat still for a moment, waiting for your family to leave, for you wanted a moment alone with your knight, and when they did, you immediately went to Ser Aemond’s side, dissolving the damned gap that had to return each moment any other presence accompanied you two. 

“You must rest,” you said, inspecting the bandages of his wounds. “I am fine; you must not worry so much,” Aemond said softly, his heart warming at how concerned you were of him. “No, you are just saying that! Please, you must rest, at least for a few days— let your wounds settle,” You murmured, gently caressing his arm. “And leave you in the protection of another? No. Princess.” Aemond said, no longer trusting another to watch over you now that he had come to the full realization that there are more dangers that may come to you than he had previously thought. Aemond sighed and cupped your fretting face with his calloused, stained hands, but you found no care, you only leaned closer to his touch. “Thank you.” He whispered, confusing you. 

“Why are you thanking me? You are the one who saved my life; I should be thanking you,” You murmured, placing your hand atop his. Aemond smiled and shook his head. “Yes, but you are the one who nursed me back to health— the one who cleaned and bandaged my wounds; if you were not there, I might have bled to death.” Aemond smiled even though the subject was grim. You, however, frowned greatly, “Do not say such a thing,” You said, not even able to grasp the idea of such a proposition. Aemond smiled wider as he attested to how much you truly cared about him. He placed a kiss on your forehead and let his arms wrap around your frame. “I don’t think anyone has cared for me as much as you do,” Aemond murmured, confessing the truth. You felt a twinge in your heart as he said such a thing. How can someone not care for him when it came so easily for you? You sighed and only held him tighter as you had no words of reply. 

“I still think you need to rest,” you say after an intimate moment of silence, making Aemond laugh. “Stop fretting, I am fine.” He insisted as he tried to wipe away the furrow between your brows with his thumb, just as how you had done for him before. “Very well— but swear to me if you feel any discomfort, you will tell me, yes?” Aemond sighed and nodded as he knew that was the only way to calm your fretting self. “Promise?” You asked, not completely believing him as he does have a tendency to keep what he feels inside. Aemond did not answer but instead kissed your lips as he always believed that actions do speak louder than words. You sighed, finally feeling some relief after the few days that had passed. You felt more secure and safe now that it was just you and Aemond in the privacy of your chambers, and you could only hope and pray that it would always be like this. 

Days passed, and the whole of the kingdom had been privy to the fact of how you were ambushed and how your knight bravely and gallantly protected you from the five ambushers— proclaiming him as a hero for he was the reason why their beloved princess was saved from further harm. Aemond did not like the attention; he had noticed whispers regarding him were quick to grow, and usually, the eyes of the court were most pointed at you, but now it was as well directed on him; he did not like that. You, however, appreciated how the kingdom was starting to take notice of your knight’s effort and how much he had taken his duty incredibly.

“Stop scowling, you’re scaring them.” You say quietly as you walk through the gardens with Aemond and your two cats trailing behind you two, the passersby taking a double look at your heroic knight. “Good.” He answered, glancing behind to see the commotion your two cats were creating as they practically fought each other. “Sapphira, do not bite your brother,” Aemond then scolded, making you bite your lip as you wanted to laugh because you had never heard him refer to or speak to your cats, but it would seem his frustrations with the attention of the kingdom upon him was affecting his usual behavior. “They mean well, Aemond— they see you as a hero; nothing to be upset about,” You say quietly, but he only shakes his head. “I am no hero. I was simply doing my duty.” You sighed at his stubbornness. “Duty or not, if it were not you who was by my side, we would not know what would befall me— and for that, you are a hero.” Aemond restrained himself from answering as his frustrations were getting the better of him.

“Well, I hope your mood will improve, the Knights’ ball is fast approaching— you are aware that you have to be part of the reception, yes? You’ll have to be presented before the kingdom to receive the Medal of Valor.” You informed, and that only severed the frown on Aemond’s face. “Do not remind me,” he drawled, as he took the bouquet of flowers in your hands as it was getting quite hefty. “That reminds me, have you heard from your family? Are they to come so we can prepare their rooms,” You say, and Aemond stilled, as he had not sent out a letter to his family informing them that he was to receive a medal and that they were invited to the banquet but he had told you he had. 

You turned to your knight, but he was silent and was avoiding your gaze. “You did not send the invitation, didn’t you?” You sighed, in a way already expecting this. “No matter, I shall send the letter myself,” You say, making your way back to your chambers to draft a letter for Aemond’s family. “Princess, I— please, I—“ You shook your head. He followed you to your desk beside himself, not knowing how to hinder you. “I do not understand you— other knights have waited a lifetime to be presented with such recognition, yet you hold it with such animosity,” You were starting to grow frustrated with Aemond’s attitude, a deep furrow in your brows as you drafted an invitation to House Targaryen. 

Aemond sighed and crutched down to the side of your chair so you would meet him at eye level, his hand gently resting on your arm that furiously scribbled the words. “I am honored that you shall bestow upon me such recognition, but I do not think it is needed. I was doing my job— I was only fulfilling my oath to protect you,” Aemond said softly, his voice immediately making you forget your frustrations upon his actions. “I do not need all this pageantry and frills— I am not after recognition… I only wish for you to be safe.” You sighed and cupped his cheek as he said such words, not thinking you could fall for him further, but apparently, there were still uncharted dimensions where your affections for Aemond could still reach. 

You captured his lips in a quick kiss. “I know you do not like attention, but I’m afraid it is custom— you have naught a choice,” You say delicately, biting on your inner cheeks as a slight pout appeared on Aemond’s thin lips as he thought he had convinced you to hinder all these frills. “I’m beyond all of this, my love. I cannot make them cease with their curious gazes and wants to celebrate you,” You laughed as you found the small pout in his lips amusing. Aemond, however, froze as he realized the endearment you called him. “My love…?” He questioned with uncertainty if he had heard you correctly. 

Your eyes widened as you realized that the words had slipped your lips— instead of brushing it off and making some excuse, you breathed in a deep breath and smiled, taking another risk. “I… I love you,” you confessed, hoping your emotions would not be too much for him and scare him off. 

Aemond was rendered in shock. You love him—him! He was speechless, something that he had never experienced, but he realized he best get used to it because you often managed to dismantle and stun him. 

You sat in quiet fear as Aemond made no reaction, horror starting to settle in you as his silence was making you believe he felt no strong emotions towards you. That you perhaps said the words too quickly, or worse, he saw you as a passing fancy when you yourself believed him to be the one. You began to trace the embroidery of your dress again, removing your gaze from his lilac eye. Your hands were clammy, and you were starting to regret your confession as it would seem you would be scorned. But Aemond took hold of your cheek and guided your face to look upon his. “I—It’s fine if you do not feel the same,” You lied, trying to save face, hoping no more wounds be afflicted to your pride. 

Aemond shook his head, realizing he had taken too long to reply, and doubts quickly festered inside you. “You… love… me?” He said slowly, trying to confirm what he had heard because he doubted it might be a cruel joke. You licked your lips as your hands fisted the fabric of your gown. “I do.” You repeated. “But I am not forcing you to feel the same way— I understand if you don—“ Aemond kissed your lips shut, not wanting you to utter such words. 

“You love me,” He repeated again, voice holding thrill and disbelief. “You, love me.” He said for the third time, and you could not help but be amused. “Yes. I love you.” You repeated, letting go of the potential wound that would be inflicted on your pride if he did not feel the same. But as you stared into his eye, the amazed look on his face, you could not believe that you had let yourself doubt him— though no words were said, you had your answer. He loved you. And his actions were proof enough. 

[spookysteddie]

Always Comin’ Home to You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ MINOR DNI

dec: after a fight with his step-mother Gator comes home late, scaring you. His bruises tell you of the day he had and all he wants is to feel you.

cw: Swearing, abandonment, mental / physical abuse (Roy to Gator), domestic abuse (Roy to Karen), bruises, mention of death, implication of anxiety, murder, toxic religion themes, gator calls his step-mom a cunt, crying, fingering, daddy kink, dd/lg themes if you squint, Gator calls himself her God (what's the name for that?), unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, promises. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.7k

a/n: I need Gator Tillman like I need to fucking breathe. This man is WOW. I just want to pet him and tell him he is, in fact, a winner and then suck him off. Anyway, I hope y'all like this heheh

...

Gator Tillman didn’t have a lot of good things in his life. 

Between his mother leaving, his father being as asshole and everything in between, Gator was a little fucked up and very morally gray. Doing his daddy's dirty work in the hopes Roy will finally be proud of him. 

Now, there was one good thing (or person) in his life, one human who brought out the best in him. One person who saw him for the person he was deep inside. The one who saw him as a winner. 

You. 

You were everything Gator could ever dream of, his perfect girl. 

“Gator? Baby have you seen my sunglasses?” You pull some clothes out of the hamper, double (triple) checking that they weren’t in there. “Do you have them? Are they in your cruiser?!” 

You hear Gators heavy footsteps before he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, “have ya checked on top of ya head?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and instantly you want to punch him. 

You were an angel and subsequently the sweetest girl. Shit, you make Gator catch and release the spiders you find in the house because you ‘want someone to grant you the same kindness in life’. Whatever that means. But of course he does it, because the last thing he wants is to make you cry. 

Well, that’s not true. He loves making you cry while your wrapped around his cock, fucking you so deep and hard that you can’t form a complete thought. Only then does he enjoy the tears streaming down your face. 

But at the same time, you had a wicked attitude. One he liked to fuck outta you at every opportunity. And when you look up at him he knows it’s coming. 

“Do they look like they’re on my fuckin’ head, Gator? Jesus Christ.” But he doesn't fail to notice you subtly check in the mirror to make sure they aren’t actually on your head. They aren’t, for the record. 

Gator is not like his daddy. Does he have his fathers attitude? Absolutely. But he has never raised his hand to you outside of the bedroom, much to his fathers dislike. Claiming he’s watched his father beat on his step-mother and even though he hates her – only because she gave birth to his twin sisters, giving his father two more chances to fuck their futures up – he doesn’t think it’s right. 

He balls his fists, nails digging into the center of his hand. He has too much shit to do today and, frankly, doesn’t have time for this shit. “Watch ya mouth bunny. Lucky my dad aint home to hear you take Christs name in vain.” 

Gator is right. His daddy already doesn't like you, doesn’t think you’re Godly enough. He also seems to think you’re an idiot simply because Gator does everything for you, even down to tying your shoes. It’s something Gator likes doing, taking care of you as it helps ease his mind. 

But at the same time Roy wonders how his son could catch and keep a girl like you. It’s emotional whiplash most of the time. Of course, Gator takes the brunt of his daddy's issues when it comes to you, never letting his daddy so much as look wrong in your direction. 

You sigh, running your hands down your pink skirt, “look, can you please help me find them? You know my eyes don’t do well with the sun bouncing off the snow.” 

His eyes soften, loving when you need his help, “I’m willin’ to bet they’re in the cruiser on the floor boards.” 

Your face heats as you remember exactly why they’d be on the floor of the cruiser, your escapades from your little meeting at the police station last night. There was always that preliminary fuck before going back to Roys (cause God forbid Gator ever come stay at your place. His daddy needs him nice and close.) considering you don’t know how to keep your moans quiet. So, he tires you out, not so much that you can’t drive back to his place, but just enough to where you’re silent during round two and three and four. 

The cold nips at your bare legs, winter just as brutal as every other year in this godforsaken state. You swear it never gets easier, winter, and the older you get the more you think about moving south. You think Gator would like the warmer weather, probably find the warmth soothing. 

“Ah ha! Got ‘em!” Gator hands them to you with a huge smile on his face. He looks almost boy-like. It’s rare he has a genuine smile, especially when his daddy is around. 

“Gator,” his step-mothers voice rings out from the porch, making you both jump. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his frustration. “Stop yellin’ cause your sisters are sleepin’!” 

“Karen, they’re at the other end of this fuckin house and your scratchy ass voice is louder than me.” 

You can see her huff, “I should call your father!” 

He sighs, turning on his heel, “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. Dad’s… a little busy today.” Gator knows exactly what his daddy is busy with, not that he’d ever tell you. Terrified that he would somehow put you in danger. 

You know that there was shit his daddy made him do. Things that forced him to come home with black eyes, bloody lips and bruises on his knuckles and body. It hurt your heart every time he came home like that, telling you it was nothing while he winces as he takes off his clothes. 

Karen seethes from the porch and you see her look from Gator to you and back. Gator, who notices everything, sees it and steps in front of you, pushing you behind him. “Don’t look at her like that, Karen.” 

That seems to annoy her more, “she better not be here tonight. You hear me? Don’t need your sisters hearin the stuff you two get up to at night.” 

“Not any worse than dads hands hittin’ your face while they sit at the kitchen table.” You cringe at his statement, seeing Roy hit Karen more times than you can count. “You don’t run this house. Or tell me what to do.” He spits on the ground and turns away, waiting till he hears the door slam to speak. 

“I fuckin hate her. She’s sucha little bitch.” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, breathing him in. “Can stay at mine tonight if you want. Don’t wanna get you in trouble,” you murmur into his shirt. “O-or we can spend a night apart. I know we haven’t done that inna while but just till this blows over an’ we know she didn’t say nothin’ to your father.” 

You know you're rambling, but all you want is to make Gators life comfortable and safe. You know there is a small chance that Karen will call Roy, tell him what happened, maybe even lie (she’s done that before) and say you upset her. If that happens, Gator will get it good, possibly another broken arm or dislocated jaw. That’s the last thing you want. You can feel you chest ache, eyes burning at the idea of Roy hurtin’ him. 

Gator pulls your face back from his chest, making you look up at him, “don’t you be worryin’ bout me now. Roy ain’t gonna do shit and I don’t sleep when you aren’t curled up next to me,” he kisses your forehead. “I’ll put some feelers out to see if that little bitch called him. Gotta meeting at 3 with him.” 

You nod, your hand coming up to fix his jacket. In reality, you just need something to distract from the burning behind your eyes. 

“Hey? I’m serious. I’ll be fine, okay?” He lets you go to reach into his pocket, pulling out some cash and handing it to you, “why don’t you go get your nails done or something, yeah?” 

You know refusing to take the money wont go well, so you take it, putting it in the pocket of your jacket. “Thank you, daddy,” you whisper out, knowing you aren’t really supposed to say that outside of Gators locked bedroom door. 

He lets it slide, the day has been stressful enough for you. “That’s my good bunny. Now, run along and I’ll meet you here at six okay?” 

You tilt your head, “no station tonight?” 

“Nah… Jerry is working and he’s got a starin’ problem when it comes to ya. Don’t feel like scoopin’ eyeballs out. Too messy.” 

You shudder but kiss him goodbye before getting in your car. You have a very bad feeling his 3pm meeting isn’t going to go how he expects. 

… 

You were right. 

You knew you were right the second you pulled up to his house at six on the dot and he wasn’t home. You reach for your phone, looking to see if maybe you’d missed a text, phone call, shit even an email from your boyfriend. 

Nothing. 

Even when you try to call him, you're met with a voicemail. You can feel the bile rise in the back of your throat, fear making your skin itch. Was this it? Was this the time Roy sends him out there to do his dirty work and he doesn’t make it home? 

He could be anywhere right now. Not only that, if he was dead, no one would do shit for him. No funeral, no service, nothing. His dad would go on and wipe his hands clean of his “loser” son, probably more than happy that the ties of his first wife are gone for good. 

Oh God, what if he was dying, the cold freezing the blood onto his skin, frostbite settling in. He could be so scared, praying to the God he doesn’t believe in that you come find him. His clothes are probably wet too, sticking to him thanks to the sn-

A knock on your window makes you jump, a yelp falling from your lips. You look over, seeing the blue of his jacket in your peripheral and the sight makes you gasp. You’re quick to shut off the car, jumping out and getting a closer look at him. 

He looks… awful. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, dry blood sticking to his split brow. There is a bruise on the other side of his face and under his left eyes, clearly he got hit in the nose. 

“Baby…” this time you can't stop the tears from falling. “Baby what happened?” 

He lets out a long, deep sigh, his hands resting on your cheeks. “Fuckin’ cunt called dad. Said I needed a lesson in respect. S’how I got the bruise on my left eye.” He wipes the tear that falls from your eye, his touch soft and kind, “sent me to do some shit across state lines. Guy beat the fuck outta me. He ain’t alive no more though.” 

You sniffle, “is it just your face?” 

He shakes his head but doesn’t say more. He knows you’ll see the rest once he gets you inside. Well … “we-I can’t let you sleep here tonight, Gator.” 

He shakes his head, “it’s fine. Dad said so himself. Come on.” 

And so he drags you inside, Karen looking like the cat that caught the canary as she watches you help Gator walk. You make a mental note to never forget this, never forget how she treats her step-son.

You push open Gators bedroom door, making sure to shut it silently and lock it before settling Gator on the bed. “Let’s get ya into some comfy clothes, yeah?” 

You crouch down in front of him, making quick work of untying his boots. 

��Baby, I can do this. I’m the one who's supposed to help you.” 

That only makes more tears burn your eyes. You hated that he never let anyone help him, hated that he always had to be strong, couldn’t ever cry, nothing. You hated Roy for making him like this and you hated his mother for leaving and not saving her only son from a life of pain. 

“Stop. Just-just let me help you, Gator please.”  You pull at the laces to loosen them and make it easier to slide off his boot, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. 

His boot comes off easy and you make sure you keep your hold on it so it doesn’t make any noise on the floor. Same with the second one. 

You stand, unclipping his thigh holster and setting it on the nightstand where he likes it. Incase of emergencies. Next is his belt, coming off with ease. He stops you when you get to his pants, making you look up at him. He hates the silver shining along your waterline. 

“I love you, little bunny.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it. 

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks as you say. 

You work on his pants, popping open the buttons with ease. Next you pull his shirt out of his pants and pull it over his head. By the time his shirt hits the floor, you’ve gotten a full look at his bare torso. A bruise is forming along his ribs, it’s really red and slightly turning purple. 

“Jeez baby,” your hands gently touch his skin and he hisses a little. “S-sorry.” 

He says nothing as he helps you pull off his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. 

“Stay here,” you tell him as you collect his dirty clothes and go into his attached bathroom. You sigh as you grab a face cloth, turning the water on so it heats up. It, of course, takes forever for the water to warm. Nothing like shit water heating thanks to the frigid winter. But once it does you wet the cloth and grab the first aid kit and go back to him. 

You’ve done this before, cleaned him up, you’ve even stitched him up. You’d like to thank the internet for telling you how to do that and you’ve gotten good over the last two years. 

“S’is gonna hurt. Luckily it looks like you don’t need stitches. Just don’t move while I work okay?” 

He nods, “yes, baby. Ya don’t have to do this. I know you don’t like blood.” This was true, you didn’t like blood at all, barely even being able to handle papercuts. But for some reason, when it comes to him, you can manage to push it aside. Cuts can get infected and when they’re on his face it means it could go to the brain faster. 

You carefully dab the wet rag around his split eyebrow, gently clearing off the blood and making sure that you don’t resplit the cut open. “I think it split from the swellin’ but I don’t think it needs stitches.” 

He nods slightly, “good. I was hoping it’d close on its own.” 

You put some wound cleaner on it before you bandage it. He might have a scar there unless he leaves it alone. But knowing Gator, it’ll open again. You clean up around his face and causing a hiss to leave his lips once you touch his cheek and eye. You apologize, applying some cream that makes bruises heal faster to his face and ribs. 

“That’s everything.” You force a small smile at him, tossing the wet cloth into the hamper and putting the first aid kit away. You get undressed, needing skin to skin contact. Then, you climb into bed, snuggling up to him, resting your head on the safe side of his chest. 

The silence stretches, Gators arm around your shoulders, his thumb moving softly. 

“I thought you were dead in the snow,” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them. 

He thumb stills for a heartbeat before resuming, “but m’not.” 

“I’m sorry this is the life you were forced into. It is not fair.” 

He kisses your head, breathing you in for a moment, “it’s not your fault, bunny. You didn’t do any of this. Shoulda kept my mouth shut when it came to Karen. Just… smile an’ wave.” 

You shake your head, kissing his chest, “not how it’s supposed to be.”

Gator rolls over you, forcing you on your back. He bites back a pained groan. “My sweet bunny, listen to me. I am here. I am safe. S’gonna take a lot more to kill me.” He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. 

You let your hands slide into his hair, deepening the kiss. Honestly, you just need to feel him. He knows it and if he’s being honest, he needs to feel you too. He’ll never say it out loud, but as he laid in the snow, doing his best to get the fucker he was sent to kill off of him, he was scared. 

Scared he would die and you’d spend the rest of you life wondering. He knew no one would fill you in and he knew his daddy wouldn’t have a service for him. You’d be alone, wondering what happened to him, praying to the god you don’t believe in that he’d come home again. So, he fought like hell and now, he really needs you. Needs to be inside you. 

You pull back, breaking the kiss, “Gator, we can’t.” 

“We can. Please baby.” Gator doesn’t beg, he didn’t need to when it came to you. Always more than willing to do what he says and give him what he wants. His begging makes you give in. 

His hands push your underwear aside, feeling how ready you already are for him. Always ready, always wanting and only for him. 

You pull him in for a kiss while his fingers find your clit with ease, swallowing your moans. He always knows exactly how you like it, fingers moving in swift circles and just the right amount of pressure. 

“So fucking pretty when you’re at my mercy,” he pushes two fingers inside you, the stretch making your brain go fuzzy. “Looked so fucking pretty in your little skirt and frilly socks. My little angel.” 

The way Gator is cooing at you, his fingers crooked up to touch the one spot that drives you nuts and you can feel yourself slipping into that headspace you both love. You’re trying so hard to be logical, knowing he’s hurt and can hurt himself further. 

“Thank you, daddy. Bought it because I thought you’d like it.” Your voice is getting small, breathy. 

He grins, kissing down your neck, “I love it. Love everything you wear. Look so pretty in your pastels.” His thumb finds your clit, a soft moan falling from your lips. It’s embarrasing how quickly you are to coming around his fingers. 

“P-please. Gator please.” 

He smirks, “use your words, sweet girl. Tell me what you want.” 

You can feel your body heat up from both the coil inside you winding tighter and the embarrassment of having to say what you want. “I-I need to cum. So bad.” 

The second the words are in the air, Gator pulls his hands away, leaving your orgasm to fade away. “NO! No, no, no, no please!” 

He sucks a mark into your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to sooth it.

“Need ya to cum on my cock, baby.” 

Before your brain can catch up, he’s sliding inside you. The stretch is something you haven't gotten used to in the last two years. It feels like he's splitting you in half, his cock filling you completely. 

“OH! Oh my god.” You're already panting, squeezing him so hard he’s fighting to not bust prematurely. 

Gator drops to his forearms and pumps his hips, getting right in your face. He’s so close you can smell the fruity scent from the vape he was no doubt huffing on before coming to see you. 

“S’right baby, I am your God and I love when ya pray to me.” 

You can’t help the way your cunt clenches, a moan falling from your lips that is just slightly too loud for either of your comforts. At the moment, you don’t care. You know Roy already got his fill of kicking Gatos' ass. He’s not going to worry about it tonight. 

“Daddy, please. I’m so close.” 

His hips are snapping hard, cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. He feels like he’s inside your throat and you can’t tell if his grunts are from pain, pleasure, or both. 

“Not yet. Almost there. D-don’t cum yet.” 

Your nails sink into his biceps, hips starting to stutter. 

“Please! Fuck! Oh god…” 

He smirks, eyes meeting yours, “yeah? I know how bad ya need it. How bad ya need me to fill this pretty, little cunt up. Breed an own ya f’ever? Hm?” His eyes are black and he looks absolutely feral. Primal.  

His hand snakes down the front of your body, finding your clit with ease. You gasp, thighs starting to shake. You knew you weren’t going to last but you needed his permission. You craved his praise and being in his good graces. You’d let him do anything to you, that’s how much you trust him. 

“Yes! Yes! Whatever you want. Anything.” You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, too cock drunk to think of anything besides him and what he’s doing to you. 

He laughs, seeing your eyes glazed over and tears of pleasure lining your eyes, “cum for me bunny. Do it.” 

It’s all you need to fall into bliss. 

His hand covers your mouth knowing how loud you’re about to be. His face drops into your neck as he cums with you, both of your moans muffled by each other's bodies. His cum fills you, leaking out as he brings you both down. 

His hand slowly leaves your mouth, head lifting to look at you. 

“I love you. I fuckin’ love you so fuckin’ much.” He leaves little kisses all over your face, trying to bring you back to him. “You hear me? M’never leavin’ you.” 

You take a shuddering inhale, trying to form a coherent thought, “P-promise?” 

You hold your pinky up to him, hands shaking while adrenalin continues to run through your veins. He giggles, hooking his pinky with yours, “promise. I’ll always come home to you. I will always fall asleep next to you.” 

He looks down, flipping your hand over and checking out your nails, “I can’t wait for these pretty, red claws to be wrapped around my cock.” 

Your chest lightens as you both laugh together.

[coquelicoq]

just finished my rewatch so i am here to bring you the important fax, such as:

how many dramatic thunderstorms take place over the course of 40 episodes of the double?

the answer may surprise you!

episode 1. the og. xue fangfei is buried alive by her husband, who then goes in for a lil psychological torture courtesy of the princess. meanwhile, su-guogong kicks down the door of a contraband salt warehouse and does a sick spin onto the back of a chair completely unnecessarily. for the aesthetic. you really get your bang for your buck with this one because it also features in at least ELEVEN separate flashbacks in later episodes (episodes 4, 7, 9 (three FBs), 11, 13, 17, 24, 27, and 32, to be specific).

episode 7. shen yurong comes to the jiang residence to give "jiang li" an entrance exam for fancy pants academy. she drops hella hints to her true identity and keeps bringing up how much it sucked to be abandoned on that mountain :) while a storm rages around them much akin to the one that made the whole live burial thing especially dramatic. as if being buried alive needed additional pathos.

episode 13. xue fangfei is called before the jiang family tribunal because she's got some explaining to do about what happened at the palace banquet (where, if you recall, jiang ruoyao attempted to set her up to be violated and disgraced, and instead found their cousin in bed with jry's fiance). of course our girl wipes the floor with these amateurs. she's bringing melodramatic precipitation to the table, and what do they have, a face wound? god's least favorite soldier (the concubine's son)? please. you gotta get up earlier in the morning than that to pull one over on this fake ex-nun.

episode 14. this one is maybe the funniest to me from a doylist perspective because it's just one single thunderclap/lightning bolt right after the emperor says to xiao heng, the princess hates you. she might even try...to KILL YOU. like bro this is not news to anybody lol. but at least the universe has a sense of dramatic timing. there is no other sign of this storm, not even rainfall, in any other part of the episode...the emperor summoned a stormcloud just for that one sentence and then was like okay i got what i needed, run along now.

episode 17. wins the award for cutest rainstorm. a drunk xue fangfei holds xiao heng's cheeks very insistently between her hands, looking up into his eyes as rain falls in her face. he takes off his utterly sodden cloak and wraps it around her shoulders, surely doing absolutely nothing w/r/t keeping her dry but at least seeming very tender about it. the rain is obviously integral to the scene, but i think the thunder and lightning are mainly here because someone involved with this production really likes thunder and lightning. we also get a flashback to this one in...

episode 18. the metaphorical masturbation scene (xue fangfei lies in a tub artfully draped in fabric nuzzling the soft petals of a rose while xiao heng does half-naked swordplay dripping with rain). again i think somebody was just having a lot of fun with the thunderstorm effects on set that day. rain would have been sufficient, but if there's one thing you can say about this show, it's that everyone involved agreed that "sufficient" will not suffice. we are not here to regular-ass things. we are here to double- or even triple-ass them. and when in doubt on how to achieve that, add some fucking meteorological event. some kind of audiovisual spectacle. it's literally coming down from the heavens. what, are we gonna ask for subtlety? from this show? not if we know what's good for us.

episode 20. xue fangfei has just asked the auntie down the street in huaixiang to testify on her father's behalf, getting down on her knees and begging, only to have the door shut in her face. ouch. if that's not prime time for some rain to mingle with her tears, her surroundings reflecting her inner state, i don't know what is. it's giving textbook pathetic fallacy.

episode 25. ji shuran meets with the imperial diviner who turns out to be her long lost lover she thought she had successfully burned to death!!! (ohhh sidenote i am just now getting the jsr-syr parallel with this.) honestly if they had neglected to punctuate this scene with thunder and lightning i would have been metaphorically holding the back of my hand up to the production's forehead to check for fever. it would not be a sign of health, given this show's general baseline.

episode 27. xue fangfei meets with jiang yuanbai's concubine, hu-yiniang, trying to convince her to help xue fangfei fuck ji shuran's shit right up. the weather didn't help her recruit the huaixiang auntie, but it works like a charm on auntie hu. (i'm choosing to believe the weather is a sentient entity and it's showing up to drench xue fangfei like a wet cat at irregular intervals like ⛈ im helping 🥰)

episode 28. the exorcism. fuck yes there's a thunderstorm during the exorcism. what are we even doing here if the showdown between olympic-grade synchronized charlatan choreography and mad-with-grief-mother-approved creepy ventriloquism isn't punctuated by bolts of lightning? don't waste my time. perfectly timed thunderclaps or gtfo.

episode 29. gotta have some thunder and lightning while visiting the tombstone of your brother who isn't actually dead (but you don't know that). definitely gotta have some rain so your crush can show up out of nowhere and lovingly hold an umbrella over your head. that's just basic science. step 4.7 of the water cycle.

episode 30. xue fangfei comes to the academy to rehearse the duet for the zhao envoy and dun dun dunnnn...only shen yurong is there!!! i am feeling distinctly menaced, but on her behalf, or on his? hard to say. on the one hand, he did attempted-murder her. on the other hand, she's xue fucking fangfei and he's the chump who attempted-murdered her. sweet dreams, bucko.

episode 35. consort li visits the princess in an attempt to get her diagnosed with Pregnancy...out of wedlock!! lots of thunder but no lightning until shen yurong shows up afterward and is like, hey honey i figured out how to solve this problem, just marry this totally other dude 👍 wanning is Not having a good day and the weather got the memo.

episode 39. what would u even do if ur lover poisoned you & took that opportunity to rescue his ex-wife from ur dungeon & walked out holding her in a bridal carry (after using knockout gas on her, natch) & when he saw u he tenderly placed her down out of the rain? what would u do if u had the hairpin u thought he had given u as a sincere token of love and commitment & this hairpin was sharp enough to impale a person & u could put it in his hand pointed toward u & then u could pull his hand right into ur abdomen? WHAT WOULD U DO if all this was the case BUT THERE WAS NO THUNDER AND LIGHTNING WHILE THIS WAS GOING DOWN?? i think i would just NOT impale myself on my own hairpin using my traitorous lover's hand. out of PIQUE. i know weather patterns are driven by atmospheric forces or whatever but come on man. that would just be rude. so thankfully the weather showed up to give the princess the dramatic accompaniment her iconic death scene deserved. she died as she lived: dangerous, vulnerable, electrifying. i'm buying the effects people a round for this one. they made it count.

so, 14 individual thunderstorms, plus at least 10 flashbacks* to one of those thunderstorms, for (at minimum) 24 total scenes featuring thunderstorms in 40 episodes. *(i say "at least" because i probably missed some. and there are 12 FBs mentioned in this post, but two of them were being remembered while another thunderstorm was taking place, so their scenes have already been included in the count of 24.) and that is not even counting 1) lightning in an imaginary what-if scene in episode 6 in which xiangqiao (one of jsr's planted servants) says "if i'm lying, strike me with lightning!" or 2) the magical lightning strikes that jiang ruoyao and/or xue fangfei may or may not create during the guqin exam cgi extravaganza in episode 11 (kinda hard to tell if that was lightning or not). if you count those too you start to wonder if the crew was getting some kind of bulk discount on lightning bolts from the lightning bolt factory...but that's none of my business 😌

[that1emowitch]

here me out

AU where instead of doing the whole red hood thing, jason just stays with the all caste. he finally meets the batfam when the justice league is facing a threat and need the help of the all caste. could be pretty good angst, since it directly disproves every shitty thing bruce said about jay, and bruce realises that his son was alive like way later than in canon

also it's a crime that jayessence basically doesn't exist, there are 11 fics on ao3. i want jayessence and competent!jason pls

That'll be so interesting, ur right! I'm definitely gonna go read RHATO issues again so I refresh my memory (if there r any other issues with the all-caste story PLEASE lmk cuz i have a very tumultuous love/hate relationship with RHATO lol)

I think Jason would've been happier, with the All-Caste. Talia would've visited him when she could (let's make her a mom not a pedo), Ducra would've trained him in every single war form she knew, putting hum on a path to surpass even her

Essence and Jay would've been her top students (if u don't mind, could u pls give me a lil recap on what Essence's story is? I kinda got confused in that part. Was she banished? She's one of the Untitled, technically, is she not? I don't rmbr 😭)

But basically, Jayessence! I've never read a fic about it or written one, but I've always thought it was an interesting dynamic! It'd be fun to try writing it out. Maybe I'll make a happier AU, where Essence and Jason train together under Ducra, both of them named her heirs. That kinda makes them play-fight with each other which ends up with them kissing. Oh god Jason would be so smitten by her, he'd pretend to be annoyed but he knows she's a goddess, knows she could kill him in a blink, knows his blade could kill her—but they both choose to love. AAHHABSBSHS I'm dying

Then the Untitled attack.

I love Ducra so much, she's their BAMF Granny, so let's not kill her. Maybe instead, she is kidnapped, in hopes of getting Jason and Essence to surrender (They know these two could destroy them). And at the same time, the Untitled are also attacking JLA outposts, for a reason I'll come up with later. Bruce remembers, back when he trained under the League, Ra's mentioning evil beings of this type, immortal and unstoppable by all but the All-Caste. Hence they seek their help.

And with Ducra gone, Jason and Essence are in charge, and they have to meet with the JLA—with Batman, Superman, and WW, specifically.

Jason makes sure to cover himself completely. Puts white nose generators in his mask and chest plate to ward off Supes. Makes sure to double, triple check his voice modulator. He cannot risk them finding out his true identity.

Not when he's finally recovering from his past as Robin.

I'm imaging they work together for a while, with everyone noticing the Red Hood (would he still be called Red Hood, if he never returned to Gotham? Maybe? Maybe he was reclaiming it, as a way to heal himself instead of for getting revenge) basically everyone notices RH being antsy around Batman. The amount of effort he puts into concealing his identity, unlike the other members of All-Caste. His name being Joker’s old name, something deeply meaningful to Gothamites.

Batman thinks RH is a reformed Gotham villain, who he's dealt with before. He thinks that's why RH doesn't ever face him, doesn't look him in the eye. He feels bad for him, but is strangely proud (just feel like mentioning, the thing about Batman is, he cares SO MUCH. About everyone. He feels sorrow when they lose themselves to their insanity, feels guilt over it. And he feels pride when they bounce back, grow better, like Harley Quinn did.) Like, this man, this absolute machine, clearly well honed and trained, who seems more than capable of taking on the entire Justice League by himself. Clearly he has experience.

Essence helps Jason through it. Soothes him at night when he has panic attacks, because his Dad is two rooms away from him. Helps him cope. Helps him calm down.

Then one day in some battle, one of the Untitled fatally injures Jason, and Batman is the only one nearby. Batman takes a hasty decision, rips Jason's mask off to save him.

And freezes.

That... that's his son. He looks older, more scarred, but thats... that's his SON!

(ALSO another addition: when they find Ducra she's like "uncuff me, and I'll show you just who Essence and Jason learnt from" BAMF!DUCRA FOR LIFEE)

Sorry for the rambling I just kept getting ideas and I kept writing lol

I promise I'll write this as a proper story as soon as I can, thanks so much for the ask! As usual, lmk in the comments if you'd like me to tag u in updates, also feel free to share any ideas u have! I'm just writing what yall want to read that makes me happy hehe

[whisperingmidnights]

Oof, Feysand x reader and unrequited (i love to hurt myself 😭)

Dress inspo

Crafted from what felt like a million of the clearest diamonds I've ever seen, each hand-sewn to sheer fabric dyed to match the High Lady's skintone perfectly, it's the most elaborate design I've worked on in years -- centuries, even. I had a dress form made exactly to her measurements to ensure the draping of each strand would be perfect, covering and revealing exactly to the High Lord's specifications.

An/: Yes, this was my inspiration for the dress.

The dress took weeks to complete.

I should have known the son of a former seamstress would have an eye for clothing design, especially since he dresses so well himself. But even I did not anticipate the level of detail in his vision for this piece.

His instincts were correct, though. It's mesmerizing.

I watch the High Lady turn on the small platform before the mirrors at the back of my shop, taking in every angle of the jewels covering her lithe body. She's looks like a queen, with her hair swept up and kohl-rimmed eyes the color of starlight. She's so beautiful, it hurts to look at her.

It always hurts to look at her.

Him, too. The High Lord is seated on the low velvet couch, looking at her like she's the physical embodiment of the north star. For months, I've felt it, this burning in my chest whenever they walk into my shop. I can't breathe when they're too close, can't think, all I see is them.

Them.

Them.

And they never see me, not really. No one ever does, and who could blame them? I'm no one of importance, with little to my name beyond decent skill with a needle and a reputation for working quickly. Who could ever feel drawn to me?

I duck behind the till and finish writing up the bill, charging less than I probably should for such a piece. The High Lord will double the number regardless, triple it if he's especially pleased. Not that the money matters all that much, not to me. It won't ease the violent ache in my chest.

I look at them again, as I always do.

They don't look back.

[guildwuff2]

Whispers hello I write drabbles sometimes and I was particularly proud of this one, please enjoy a flashback and character study for my norn gal Gytha (general warning: this bit deals with the death of a norn homestead) ========== You were headed for Lillebakke.

The Lionguard of Snowdrift Haven had told you of sightings not too long ago of Sons of Svanir there, outsiders and threats to a homestead that belonged to a family of norn. There were reports of smoke, perhaps fire, but nothing seen up close.

"Did you defend 'em?" you had asked.

"We defend the road," they had replied. You spat at their feet, named them cowards, and so you left alone.

It was cold that day, bitterly cold; such cold snaps were not uncommon for that time of year, but never did they roll in so suddenly. You had prepared well for the weather, warm pelts padding the armor that defended you on your travels. Your heavy boots crunched beneath you through the freshly fallen snow, flakes falling down and dusting your mane of curls, your helmet, the pelts and plates keeping you warm and alive, the massive spiked cudgel resting on your shoulder.

Lillebakke was not far from the Lion Road. What you found there could have been prevented.

The scorched shell of the large stead had been covered in a film of unnatural rime, its structure still standing despite the damage. A layer of rapidly-falling snow blanketed the grisly scene before you. You recognized a body face-down, armored with worn leather and studs, glistening with sickly-blue ice that refused to melt. You dusted the snow off his back and could count his bare ribs beneath the frozen surface.

You stood then, surveying what was once a courtyard; broken post fence, the remains of a small communal camp fire, more bodies. Some had the touch of the Dragon's corruption, some whose corruption was deeply embedded, and many more who were once the denizens of the homestead. Your stone grey gaze caught the flicker of black wings as a raven landed on one of the few fence posts that were left standing. It regarded you with black eyes. You stared defiantly back at it.

Craww craww craww craww, the raven laughed at you.

Anger rose in your chest, but you clenched your teeth and grabbed your first fallen post from the broken fence instead. ---

Their funeral pyres were paltry. All you had was wooden scraps. You did not know their names. You could barely make out their faces, frost-burnt or fire-burnt as they were. Some were old and unprepared, some had donned their best gear to defend themselves, and some were far, far too young for their fates.

You laid out the bodies of the homesteaders, had to double or triple them to a pyre. Unheard of, and perhaps even insulting, but it was better than leaving them to scavengers as the Lionguard had. Your fire sparked blue, then warmed to bright orange as the twigs and straw within the stacked logs caught.

You settled in to remain with them until their pyres burnt out and planned how best to identify them later. Perhaps a neighboring homestead knew… Or perhaps they had relatives in Hoelbrak. You could take a keepsake from this place, something someone might recognize. You didn't want these people to die without any memory of them left. --- The Icebrood arrived at night, perhaps drawn by the pyres in the courtyard they had already claimed.

You heard their boots stomping and dragging through the snow in the darkness beyond, the clack of their platemail against the ice subsuming their bodies. You grabbed your cudgel and turned, catching the glint of funeral pyres reflected in eternal ice and milky eyes.

A growl rose in your throat, and as you felt the fury at the injustice done there burning within you, the blue fire of your magic danced like an aurora over your armor, your cudgel.

You roared your intent to the advancing Sons of Svanir, and as the pyres behind you flashed blue, you did to them what Jora did to her far-gone brother all those years ago. ---

You did your best to find out who they were. Podaga Steading managed to at least identify a bow that had belonged to one of the fallen; you had a few names, but it was barely anything compared to how many bodies you'd found. A homestead to the north, belonging to a man named Durgar, knew one of the men there but not much else.

You brought their story to Hoelbrak, where hopefully the Skaalds would keep their memory alive, or at least the tragedy of what befell them. Perhaps someone who knew them would hear their tale, and fill the gaps.

Your job finished, you took the road back towards the Wayfarer Foothills. A raven fluttered overhead, and landed on the tall gate headed east.

Craww craww craww craww.

You ignored it.

[blacklegsanjiii]

please i need more parental figure ivankov in my life PLEASE-

no pressure obv what you have is already wonderful ^^ but i am so invested in this sanji who is head of espionage, which is very fitting for someone who was supposed to be stealth black. recruits are introduced to a blonde teen who smokes too much and wears absolutely fabulous dresses and heels and think koala is hazing them when she says hes their top infiltrator. sanji takes great joy in sneaking up to them at the most inopportune times and blackmailing them with eavesdropped secrets. he and sabo and koala were all very much troublesome gremlins as much as they were respected revolutionaries

how was sanji's childhood here? raised on kamabakka, much more healthy embracement of gender and sexuality, learning all the secret recipes, taught how to cook and sky-walk and apply impeccable makeup by an array of okama aunts and uncles. he sometimes brings up stories about his growing up to the crew and everyone thinks hes just making up stories. meeting ivankov makes so much sense to them.

Sanji picked up fresh out of the dungeon and is being cared for in Kamabakka. All the Aunties and Uncles take turns dressing up and putting Sanji's make up on him. Everyone notices that this kid is so good at hiding and listening to everyone that Dragon and Iva want him trained in espionage in case he decides to join the army. When Dragon brings Sabo, Sanji is constantly sneaking in with Koala to see the new kid in the infirmary.

When Sabo wakes up and is freaked out Sanji and Koala are the ones who stay and comfort Sabo as Dragon explains what happened and where he is. Sanji keeps visiting even though he's supposed to be sleeping and Dragon finds him on more than one occasion talking to Sabo late in the night and sighing.

"Sanji, please, if Iva gets angry about taking you back to Momoiro when you're exhausted I'll never hear the end of it. Quit hiding yourself and go to bed." Dragon explains and Sanji, dressed in a pink dress and ballet slipper type shoes, pouts and blots out of the room silently. Sabo is amazed every time.

Time goes on and Sabo and Koala's favorite past times is introducing new recruits who are double or triple their age, marine defects, high ranking former government/kingdom officials to Sanji who genderfucks. They don't believe this blond kid is going to become head of espionage nor the other the CoS so they laugh at these kids. And like later in the week Sanji will drop why they left whatever and if it's severe enough Dragon or Iva or in the olden days before becoming a Warlord: Kuma will come relieve them of duty, so to speak. Sanji who goes through three packs of cigarettes a day, cooks attack cuisine and just cooks amazing food and can set his legs on fire and sky walk like Cipher Pol. Best blackmailer in the Revolutionary Army, even has shit on Dragon. Mainly being he knows Dragon has a son.

Sanji has been to several REVERIES where his family have attended but with his make up skills and the dress he's wearing? No one recognizes him. He gets the best and most important information. So when he goes to Baratie to work he uses these skills to fuck with everyone coming come through.

Whenever Nami tries to blackmail Sanji tries for whatever reason he just smiles because she doesn't have anything substantial, nothing that would harm the Army. If she goes too far when he's doing her make up at some point he just drops her deepest insecurity he knows about her and smiles and says "don't play games, Nami. You won't win against me." He even has dirt on Robin no one knows he has.

He still fully expresses his gender his identity still and Zoro is confused but Luffy doesn't care because that's his cook. No one really understands why Sanji is just like that until they're on Momoiro with Sabo and Koala and Iva and Dragon. Iva tells stories of Sabo, Koala, and Sanji getting into trouble or just mayhem. The first time Sanji sky walked around Baltigo, when Sabo first laced his pipe with haki and accidentally put someone in the infirmary. Koala talks about her long suffering watching and taking care of Sabo and Sanji where they don't even try to argue because she has the pipe.

They don't know when she got it but she has it.

Sanji tells stories of just sneaking into official meetings and just waves dropping in the halls of multiple bases. The Reveries he's been to as "security" and Sabo mentions that one time when they were like 15/16 and they went on their first mission alone. Dragon, who was off dealing with something comes in and sees Luffy and them are still here and Sabo telling them and he tries to conqueror's haki Sabo who withstands it thanks to his training, Sabo keeps telling them while giving Dragon a shit eating grin about the major marine base they exploded. And the subsequent escape with Sanji's sky walking, Koala's guidance, and Sabo holding onto all the important documents.

"HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN???" Nami yells.

"Sometimes I go the extra mile to be pretty. And a lot of men can't resist a leggy woman." Sanji nods and Iva sighs.

"I regret letting you learn so young." They bemoan.

"You're all on desk duty for the foreseeable future." Dragon growls.

"Nah." They all respond.

[cityzenshark]

How to fix certain things in Earthspark

The dugout,

Dorothy,

Alex,

the triplet's relationship with their family

This is my own take, no hard feelings

1. The dugout.

Have the parents plan the dugout with Wheeljack while Nightshade, JB and Thrash eagerly joins building it.

No one should be 100% okay if their dopted child builds an underground bunker on their own and without telling them at all. What if the barn collapsed?

The security systems Hashtag and Nightshade install are done without guidance from Wheeljack, hence why the siblings get stuck inside for ten hours in 'Security Protocols'.

They could've called Wheeljack for help in that episode.

TLDR; anyting regarding the bunker should've involve Wheeljack. It makes his character more relevant than being just Twitch's Dad-2.

2. Dot should be a more strict mother.

Please know the difference between strict and abusive.

She's a veteran who wants a normal life as a forest ranger only to get roped back into Transformers issues without her consent. On the same day, her kids found newborn Transformers and want them to be family from the get go?

Have her relunctant about it and have Alex talked her out. Have her warm up to the twins gradually. She just found out her dream job is bait for GHOST. If I were her, I'd be angry for a week.

After she fully warms up to twins, the warmth is then immediate to the triplets.

She shows actual concern about the kids' cyber-sleeves. Have Dot monitor the sleeves herself every episode until she's assured they are harmless. Then have her and Alex be worried triple time after 'Disarmed'.

She knows about the events of 'Home' and have the kids grounded while worrying about Hashtag's mental condition. They were in the city for heavens sake -- Dot and Alex were bound to know!

Think about June Darby. June is rightfully concerned about the kids being involved with the Autobots. Raf nearly died to something normal medicine can't cure, Miko is impulsive around soldiers, her own son went to a desolate alien planet. As a teenager, I find June annoying. Now as an adult, I find the kids even more annoying. Dorothy should've been more strict than June and Fowler combined because she was directly involved in the Cybertronian war.

It makes more sense if she doesn't want her children involved directly with Cybertronians at all. With the Terrans, there isn't much of a choice but to rely on Cybertronians so the Terrans could learn about themselves.

3. Alex is the person the kids and Terrans first get info about the 'Bots and 'Cons & he's the family's reassurer (idk the suitable word to use here).

The point of his profession in Cybertronian history is only shown in episode 1. That's it. He should be the first person the kids go to when they want to know about a Bot or a Con and anything Cybertronian related.

Have him be more open about Cybertronians than Dot. Sure Dot is shown to be positive with Cons changing their ways because she's friends with a redeemed Megatron, but she's also seen the Cons' heinous actions so she's likely reluctant to talk about them/double standards.

Things like these can be offscreen by having dialogues mentioning them: "Dad says Optimus used to--" / "Dad told us--" bla bla bla

Mention his past connections with Meridian clearly. I have no idea about that until @monocle-teacup mentioned it.

3. Aside from each other, the triplets are closer to the parents than their older siblings.

Hashtag is close to Twitch but after 'Home', perhaps it's best to see her going to Dot for help and get a bit clingy.

Nightshade and Alex should have more screentime togather. Alex did introduced NS the book that lead him to the author's grave where NS gets their alt mode.

NS is essentric by copying the main character of said book. Kids often copy their favourite fictional character, so why not? And when they get into character, Alex plays along.

JB can be ruled out from this as he is close to Mo but something feels missing... I can't pinpoint where though.

to e continued maybe

[episodicnostalgia]

Spider-man: The Animated Series, 111 (May 20, 1995) - “The Hobgoblin, Part One”

Teleplay by: Larry Brody Story by: John Semper Directed by: Bob Richardson

The Breakdown

Norman Osborn (of Osborn Industries) is sick of living under Wilson Fisk’s heel, so he does what any rational billionaire would do, and hires an assassin. But since this is a Spider-man cartoon, Norman also provides his hitman with a goblin-themed supervillain suit, plus an accompanying array of weaponry, all in keeping with the motif (ie, bombs shaped like pumpkins, a glider loosely fashioned after a bat, and also a laser gun for good measure).  Anyways his name is the Hobgoblin and he’s what this episode is all about.

The hit is meant to go down at a public event where Fisk will be doing some legitimate-businessman-things. Fortunately, Peter Parker is also in attendance as a press photographer, allowing him to save Fisk’s life with his spider-reflexes (Pete still doesn’t know he’s the Kingpin) before jumping into action as Spider-man.  The web-head’s interference doesn’t go over well with the Goblin, who demands more money to finish the job, but Norman ostensibly refuses out of short-sighted greed.  Predictably, that doesn’t also go over very well, so the Hobgoblin decides to get even by stealing/keeping Norman’s goblin-gadgets, and betraying him to…

…THE KINGPIN OF CRIME! So, Hobby heads over to Fisk’s place, and offers to double-cross Norman in exchange for… I can’t remember the specifics. Crime things?  *Checks notes* Yeah, Crime things. As his first assignment, Fisk sends Hobgoblin to kidnap Harry, Norman’s Son, [and Peter’s new roommate - more on that below] for ransom; and the price for Harry’s safe return? The Legal rights to ALL of Norman’s inventions, signed over to Wilson Fisk! Looks like the Kingpin has this one in the bag, except for one little hiccup…

For some reason Fisk refuses to pay for Harry’s abduction, and since Hobgoblin is apparently a man with only one tactic, he heads back over to Norman’s place and offers to double-(or is it triple?)-cross Fisk this time around. Naturally, Norman isn’t buying it, but then the Hobgoblin offers two compelling arguments.  1) “Why not?” and, 2) “give me some even more powerful weapons, please”, which is evidently all the convincing Norman needs to justify handing over the keys to an even larger/more powerful glider; Replete with heat-seeking missiles, projectile razor discs (anything to appease the almighty toy sales reps), and even a cutting-edge remote control! (oooOOOoooh)

Meanwhile, our friendly neighbourhood wall crawler has been busy trying to find Harry, and figures he might as well start by warning Norman, but he coincidentally arrives at Oscorp Industries mere seconds after the Goblin has acquired his new glider.  Since our hero doesn’t realize his adversary is actually in cahoots with Norman (again), another fight ensues, but this time Spidey is overwhelmed by the new enhanced glider jet, and just as he jumps for cover into an abandoned building, two heat-seeking missiles follow him inside and… BOOOM!

Welp! I guess that’s the end of Spider-man.

To Be Continued…

The Verdict

I have a bit of a soft spot for this episode, because it was also the first one that I ever saw.  You see, during the early years of my childhood, I lived in darkness and anguish because cable was too expensive (unlike streaming which has only grown cheaper, more accessible,  and increasingly easier to navigate), and thus many Saturday morning cartoons remained painfully outside my grasp.  The only ways to see new episodes of my favourite shows, were through the efforts of my very thoughtful Granny (who would tape what she could on video cassette), blockbuster rentals, and occasionally friends.  Tragically, Spider-man wasn’t accessible through any of these venues, but I was well aware of the show’s existence thanks to the Toys ‘R Us catalogue, and the weekly TV Guide, both of which kept me up to date on what was hot.  And so it would continue to be, until the glorious day when my parents finally did the right thing, and got a cable subscription (there was a promotion). Of course, you’d best believe that I’d done my research about exactly which programming would now be available to me, and Spider-man was one of the top shows on my hit list. On the first Saturday of my “cable-renaissance” I popped on the TV, and was greeted by ‘The Hobgoblin: Part 1.’  It was one of the greatest moments of my life.

Anyways, it’s a pretty dumb episode. Like, the Hobgoblin is extremely reckless, and his motivations are poorly defined. To be fair, his storyline was always messy and anticlimactic, even in the original comics, but that was mainly because the writers kept getting fired before anyone could resolve the story satisfyingly. Even then, the mystery built around character was rife with intrigue in the books, and there was always the sense that Hobgoblin’s story was building to something big.

This show had a real chance to do something a bit more intentional, but the one brief reference to Hobgoblin’s secret identity is almost thrown in as an afterthought.  Additionally, he doesn’t really seem to have any master plan other than committing acts of violence and betraying people for… profit, I guess? There’s just not a lot here to draw me in.

Obviously, if you’re a kid this is a rollicking good time with lots of flashy gadgets, and exciting action sequences. So, I guess at the end of the day the episode succeeds at what it set out to accomplish, and that’s fine.

2.5 stars (out of 5)

Parting Thoughts

Thanks to this episode, I was briefly under the assumption that Hobgoblin had always been the OG Spidey-Goblin-Foe in the comics, with Green Goblin being introduced later on.  It’s an interesting choice to have Norman start out as the mastermind behind the Goblin before eventually adopting it for himself. Sadly, I don’t think this show ever did a whole lot with HG’s and Norman’s relationship, which seems like another missed opportunity, but I could be forgetting something.

Mark Hamill provides the voice work for Hobgoblin, but he mostly just copy/pastes his Joker voice from ‘Batman: the animated series. It’s serviceable, but I would have preferred something a little more original. But then a gig is a gig, and since he was probably hired FOR that voice, I can’t really blame him for leaning into it.

I find it kind of hilarious how much of a big deal Norman makes over the Goblin-Glider’s remote control.  Talk about the height of technology, amiright?  Man, Hobgoblin is gonna lose his mind when he finds out about blue-tooth-operated drones, roughly 30 years down-the-line.

I skipped past it in the breakdown, but midway through the episode Aunt May decides to visit Peter at his new place (Norman offers to pay for Harry’s condo if he can find a respectable roommate, and Pete fit the bill) when Hobgoblin interrupts to kidnap Harry with a gas bomb.  As a result, May is rendered unconscious for the rest of the episode, and taken to the hospital.  The Doctor explains that she’s experiencing an ‘extended form of seizure’, which is notably not how seizures work, meaning May Parker’s diagnosis is either medically significant (warranting further examination), or the result of malpractice. The American health-care system strikes again!  But seriously Pete, you need to get a second opinion.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

Like, I'm just ✨sick of this shit✨, ok? I'm sick of this shit. I AM SICK OF THIS SHIT. I'M FUCKING SICK OF THIS SHIT. I'M FUCKING TIRED OF SEEING DEAD BABIES ON MY FEED AND HAVING REAL LIFE PEOPLE (with their behavior and words they know are in my earshot) TELL ME THEY'RE BETTER THAN ME AND THEY DON'T RESPECT ME BECAUSE I'M A WOMAN. AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE IT THAT BAD AND OTHER PEOPLE HAVE IT WORSE AND IT MAKES ME SICK.

I am fucking sick of knowing that:

The chair of my city's Republican party PUBLICLY says that women are ONLY equal to men when it comes to making babies, and otherwise it is "WORKING MEN" who are the key to society because villages don't raise families, MEN do. And NO ONE gives a singular SHIT that he said this

My coworker AGREES WITH and supports people like this.

I REGULARLY CLEAN UP AFTER MY COWORKER WHO SITS ON HIS PHONE ALL DAY LISTENING TO TRUMP SHIT AND OCCASIONALLY SONGS THAT HAVE HOZIER NO SIR THAT IS ✨NOT✨ FOR YOU. BUT I HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO HIM -- AND,

Listen to him TALK SHIT TO HIS FRIENDS ABOUT HOW NO ONE WANTS TO HAVE DAUGHTERS BC SONS ARE WHERE IT'S AT AND BLAH BLAH BLAH, LIKE I HAVE DAUGHTERS AND THEY'RE PRETTY FUCKING GOOD YOU ASSHOLE?

Fucking jesus fucking christ it's the stupidest fucking bullshit I've ever heard of. This man sits here listening to his bullshit AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I'LL HAVE RIGHTS NEXT YEAR????? BUT HE'S BETTER THAN ME????

So like, I was pretty big into HP awhile back because I was bullied heavily as a child, and I found a lot of solace in those stories. Even more when my parents died and I really related to that aspect of the stories. I thought it was about welcoming those who were otherwise unaccepted, those who were cast out for dumb fucking reasons. It heavily shaped my worldview into believing I should be KIND and ACCEPTING and fight against bigotry.

And like. Look. I have trans friends who are the KINDEST, SWEETEST, BRAVEST, MOST HARD WORKING people I fucking know who are just as TERRIFIED of being jailed or killed as I am of my little girls being shot bc their mom is a pretty staunch supporter of lgbtqia+ and POC and women's rights; or trump gets into the Whitehouse and decides to level the blue cities to send a message. So obviously it was pretty crushing when the author of the works that INSPIRED ME TO BE THIS FUCKING EMPATHETIC IN THE FIRST PLACE decided to double triple quarter pounder cheeseburger down on being a bully to people like this.

WHY SHOULD MY FRIENDS BE THIS TERRIFIED WHEN THEY'RE THE BEST PEOPLE I KNOW, AND OTHER PEOPLE IN MY LIFE WHO ARE LAZY FUCKING DUMB ASSHOLES JUST GET TO DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT WITHOUT CARE??????? "WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT ABORTIONS IT'S NOT LIKE I'LL EVER NEED ONE" BECAUSE YOUR DAUGHTER MIGHT NEED ONE SOMEDAY AND COULD DIE WITHOUT IT? WTF WHY DO THESE BULLIES ALWAYS GET A FREE PASS TO BE BULLIES???????

And I'm not going to comment on today's news because it broke today and maybe there's more facts and maybe there's not but what I am going to say is it fucking SUCKS to think that someone who was an advocate, maybe doesn't really respect you or people like you, maybe hurt people, maybe doesn't care -- I don't fucking know but it SUCKS. It's STUPID and it SUCKS and it ESPECIALLY sucks for the people hurt along the way.

I'm not trying to make any kind of definitive declaration or comment, I just have so much ANGER and fear these past few months and just so much SHIT has happened and I just am so fucking beyond cannot evening anymore with this bullshit WHY DO WE TREAT OTHER HUMAN BEINGS LIKE THIS AS IF MOST OF US DIDN'T DIE OFF IN A PLAGUE IN THE 14th CENTURY YOU'D REALLY THINK THE PEOPLE LEFTOVER WOULD LEARN TO DO BETTER AND APPRECIATE EACH OTHER.

So fuck it I'll make this a voting PSA

PLEASE VOTE

PLEASE VOTE FOR THE PEOPLE WHO AREN'T WANTING TO DESTROY DEMOCRACY

IF YOU CAN VOTE PLEASE HELP OTHERS VOTE

IF YOU CAN'T VOTE YOU CAN STILL HELP, LOOK INTO VOTE FORWARD OR VOLUNTEER TO HELP YOUR OLDER FRIENDS AND FAMILY TO SIGN UP OR OFFER A RIDE OR BABYSITTING OR SOMETHING

PARTICIPATE IN PRIMARIES AND SHIT AND LOCAL ELECTIONS TO TRY TO EFFECT ✨BETTER✨ CHANGE THAN THE OPTIONS BEFORE US RIGHT NOW

I'm just sick of this shit. Fucking do better. FUCK

[nkatr84]

Only Murders in the Building 3.8 Sitzprobe

I’m fine. Oliver is fine. They teased the season cliffhanger with Mabel in the wedding dress and Oliver was fine. Alive and well. I’m fine.

Okay okay. So the trio is back (yay) Mabel is crashing with Theo (double yay, also if he does end up being her fiancé next season I need Charles and Oliver picking up ASL too please and thank you) Oliver told Loretta he loves her (triple yay!🥰) and Charles nailed the patter song (and how smart are my boys? With the go pro)

And yes, Loretta confessed to Ben’s murder but I think Charles and Mabel finding out she’s Dickie’s birth mom is going to clear that up. And Dickie not knowing that Loretta is his mom means his only motive is that CoBro was his idea but it’s a weak motive because as his manager Dickie was still making money from it. But Detective Williams confirming that Ben was poisoned but it was covered up kinda kills my Ben staged his first death on opening night. So let’s go back to my theory on Clif and Donna. Now maybe Donna wanted to support her son’s first show. But he picked a bad play. So she decides to sabotage her own show and make money on it ala the Producers. She fires the first director and hires Oliver, because of his epic flop. Hires a miscast leading man. But Oliver is too good of a director and actually gets Ben to a place where he’ll be good. So she poisons Ben (poison is usually done by a woman) but not meaning to kill him, just to stop the show. And she covers up the poisoning. But at the Arconia Clif approaches Ben and Ben reveals that he knows Donna must have poisoned him (somehow) and in order to protect his mother, pushes Ben down the elevator shaft. This explains why Clif is still into putting on the show and trying to make it succeed (by getting Matthew Broderick) but Donna is always worried about losing money.

They both tried to kill Ben, but Clif ultimately succeeded.

[sharpen-jadescythe]

Sharpen goes home

Sharpen's mom: Why are you shirtless at the kitchen table? Are you shirtless all the time in that shiny dessert-themed guild of yours?

Sharpen: Yes, Mom. *chops vegetables*

Mom: And covered in glitter! You'd better wash up properly before supper.

Sharpen: Yes, Mom.

Sharpen's dad: How's your pet wolf Cuda doing, son? You feeding him properly?

Sharpen: Yes, Dad.

Dad: No doubt he gets enough exercise, following you and Matthias Shaw around on those secret SI-7 missions.

Mom: We're not supposed to talk about those!

Dad: Anything gruesome happen on your last mission, Sharpen?

Sharpen: Yes, Dad.

Dad: You wrestled a shark the last time! Any bad guys die on this one?

Sharpen: Yes, Dad.

Mom: Now boys! I don't like talk about killing while we're making dinner. This is family time. Dad makes the meal, Sharpen makes the salad, I set the table. We do not talk about death and craziness.

Sharpen: And what do all five of my sisters do? Nothing!

Mom: Nevermind them. You're my favorite little bean sprout. You do nice things around the house for Mom. *she pats his green hair* By the way Sharpen, have you met anyone nice, lately?

Sharpen: On my last mission. I guess.

Dad: Oh??

Mom: Finally!

Sharpen: ...

Dad: Hold on. Is that the guy you killed.

Sharpen: Well, we were sort of together first.

Mom: That's horrible! Wait, what do you mean 'sort of together?'

Dad: Don't ask those kinds of things...

Sharpen: It's not a big deal, Mom. We just ya know, hooked up. But then he turned on me and I had to harpoon him at the last minute.

Mom: Harpoon! What kind of nice man do you need to harpoon--

Dad: I wouldn't ask him anymore questions.

Mom: Where was this? What the heck was going on! What have you been getting into, Sharpen Raorin Jadescythe?!

Sharpen: Mom, please don't worry yourself like that. It was alright, Clayton was just a... well, a Drogbar. It's a lot to take down someone that big.

Dad: Don't ask him any more. Please, let the boy have some privacy.

Mom: Drogbar. What's a drogbar? What were you doing with a drogbar??

Sharpen: ... ...

Sharpen: They are a large race, they live underground. They have rock pets, snack on the occasional crystal. They aren't the monsters people say they are. Drogbar are strong, some are very noble, and surprisingly sensitive. Clayton happened to be a lying arsehole, that's all.

Dad: What the...

Mom: Monsters? My son is a monster-f***er??!! *traumatized*

Sharpen: Aaah! Don't call it that! I can't believe my own mother knows that word! *double traumatized*

Dad: That's a thing???? *triple traumatized*

Mom: Who or what do I pray to? To get my son saved from this depravity?

Dad: Well don't pray to Elune. Who knows what Sharpen'll do to her if she swings by the house.

Sharpen: DAD! Oh my goddess!!

Mom: *full panic* Sharpen, you keep Elune's name out of your filthy mouth!

[invisiblegarters]

Dangerous Romance Ep 10

Last week, Kang tried to get dad's attention and rebel or something by running away, which he apparently does all the time so dad wasn't too fussed. Plus he had Sailom reporting back. Kang sold his bike for funds after dad froze his card, and then had regrets. He was forced to beg in order to get it back and I was supposed to feel bad I'm sure but I'm heartless and also apparently still sour about the bullying in the beginning so I didn't. Kang and Sailom did the do and I failed to feel any kind of way about it.

For the first time ever I have caught second couple syndrome and spent the whole time chanting at Nawa and Guy to make out already. They did not, but they did go on a bike ride to save their friends that they gave up on eventually because they got lost. The brain trust, these two are not.

Meanwhile, Saifah and Name had a little heart to heart and Saifah got Name a job driving Kang's dad around. I'm sure nothing bad will come of that at all.

And now on with the show! What will today bring and will I care? I'll probably care a little.

Ooh scent kink.

I do like how much Sailom likes teasing Kang. And ah, yes, the good old mosquito bite. What would we do without it.

Honeymoon my foot Sailom says with the imprint of Kang's mouth visible on his neck for anyone to see. Come on my guy.

Oh Saifah no. Honey I get that you are way sweeter than I expected. but please stop trusting - oh did you have a crush on Name? That's adorable. But please stop being stupid.

Trust no one in this show. Except Sailom because he's the best. And Auto, my beloved.

Oh. Oh, maybe it'll be the boss that fucks it up and not Name. Either way Saifah is so screwed.

I feel like people keep being sweeter than I expect.

KNEW IT. Of course the boss knew.

Also ew get those bloody meaty hands off of his face that's gross. And then he touches the damn meat again. Nope. Would not be eating dinner with him.

Pfft like father like son, I guess. Is dad gonna wind up being decent too in the end? Man all my suspicion of everyone is coming to absolutely nothing. Maybe I should watch The Player after this. I hear it has the double and triple crossing I crave. I want to trust no one!

Oh hey is dad gonna go see Kang's game? Look at this.

Tread carefully here Sailom.

Drama! Guy is hurt. Careful Nawa you're running the risk of looking concerned. And Kang gets to get over his issues with penalty shots. I wonder if Saifah will tell him about his dad. Those two need to have a talk already.

Ah, so that explains why Kang gets so weirdly tense when his dad finds him messing around or not studying hard enough. But of course now he thinks his dad has given up. Maybe find a happy medium, dude. I really don't think that your wife meant let him do whatever whenever.

Oh NO. Dad surprised a burglary in progress eh? Saifah what did you do? I no longer believe that it was entirely you so what happened? And where is Name? Fled the scene huh?

I have no doubt that Dad will wake up. But it would be kind of interesting if he didn't. Way too bleak for this show though.

Aw okay that's sweet and supportive.

Well now that Saifah confessed I am more sure than ever that it isn't what it looks like, haha.

Haha that didn't last long. Man, it wasn't even Sailom who brought him into the house, it was grandma. SO much for all that support. Why is this so funny to me? I am a horrible person.

Oh look, it's Flashback's Triumphant Return. I did not miss you, Flashback. The show has been so good about their use of them lately that I got complacent. And now look at us. Here we are, and no one is happy. Not me, not Sailom, I'm assuming not Kang. Definitely not me.

WOW Name. Now I know you're the actual problem.

Pfft okay I kind of love how they just forgot about Guy. Granted there was a bit of a situation at home.

AW look at the troops all rallied. They're such sweeties. But uh, I'm pretty sure a confession means jail time regarless of lawyers, no?

Oh no! Isn't Guy on a scholarship for football? What happens to that if he can't play?

The way I am feeling these two, though. Every time that they interact I perk up.

SAILOM.

Sailom what are you doing. Don't do it, kiddo.

Okay I do not like Name. I take back anything nice I might have said about him. Also that watch is totally the one that Kang's dad already gave Saifah. I would bet money on it.

Listen to grandma kid. She gets it. She's a lot smarter than you.

"Poor people will do anythign for money." This coming from a guy who has watched Sailom actively not do things for money over and over again. I know Kang's upset but he's also a lot less likable without Sailom. Not sorry.

Oooh return of the escorting plot! YAY.

Huh. I am actually really curious as to why Saifah is taking the blame for this. Because I don't believe for one second he shot Kang's dad. Also I bet the reason Name's so concerned is because he did it, and dad knows that.

I mean I did see the preview, but even if I hadn't I would have known that this dude totally roofied the wine. Oh, Sailom.

And of course Kang is gonna take his ire out on Sailom.

Yes, you stupid shit. You kicked him out of your house and fired him, what the fuck do you expect. Like come on dude I know thinking isn't your strongest suit but do try it.

Hm. That last scene did not hit me like I think it was supposed to. Dammit. Why do these big scenes keep not working for me?

I guess next week Kang's back to letting Sailom think for him. Good. It's better for all of us when he does.

In conclusion, if Nawa and Guy don't make out by the end of this I will be mightily displeased.

[mrthoughtbubbles]

Hi Yeet,

Tomorrow is Mother’s day. Please greet Auntie a Happy Mother’s Day for me. For our family, we’re going to give mama flowers, but I kind of dread what will happen tomorrow because mama told us that she doesn’t want to have flowers since she doesn’t know what to do with them and that it’ll be just a waste of money, according to her… I’m just hoping that she’ll accept it. Furthermore, I kind of look up to mama for she’s very practical and she isn’t very flashy, and I hope that I’ll be like her someday.  What about you? What do you plan to do with auntie on Mother’s Day? I feel that auntie will be happy with her whole family with her for Mother’s Day.

I don’t have anything good to share with you today since all I did was try to stay afloat today, mentally speaking. I didn’t join my sisters in their outings today, and I just stayed at home and looked after mama after her dentist appointment. I finished the Star Wars mini-series that I haven’t watched yet and I started watching Blue Exorcist, ‘cause it piqued my interest.

I don’t know if I shared this with you anyway, but the reason why I pester everyone around me is because I want to see them happy, that they say that I’ve ruined their day, all day every day, but when they say that, I feel that they were happy for a moment, that they forgot about what their thinking or what problems they have at the moment, and at the same time, I get to laugh a little bit and forget about my worries and anxieties, and because I joke a lot, I’m the butt of the jokes most of the time, with them calling me nicknames, like winnie the poop, josephine( a female name so that I won’t be left out, knowing that I’m the only biological living son of papa and mama),taba(fat), fat flamingo, P.G. or Palaging Gutom(it’s a wordplay from a derogatory acronym, Patay Gutom, or someone who’s extremely hungry), double/triple chin, fatso, reverse vampire, and many more…  When I see them happy and laughing, I don’t mind it when I’m the but of the jokes, and they’ll laugh even more when I act offended. Recalling these experiences made me happy just for a little while.

Anyway, I’ll end my message here. I hope that auntie and your entire family will have a wonderful day tomorrow. As for what I did today, I spent my time just staying afloat and not going outside the house. I understand that going outside the house can help, but when I already went out already like a couple of days ago, I feel that I need to recharge my social battery, since I’m introverted… Have a good night’s rest, take care, find things to be grateful for and things that will give you a positive outlook on life, and remember that I love you, Yeet!

P.S.: It just dawned on me that I was a party pooper either yesterday or two days ago when I asked when your surgery was… For that, I would like to apologize… Sometimes, I can be really dense and that I have a hard time reading the room. It’ll just dawn on me after reflecting on the things I wrote…

[selflessanatta]

The Unbridled Joy of Special Needs Parenting, https://selflessanatta.com/the-unbridled-joy-of-special-needs-parenting/

New Post has been published on https://selflessanatta.com/the-unbridled-joy-of-special-needs-parenting/

The Unbridled Joy of Special Needs Parenting

A Special Needs Parent’s User’s Manual for the Heart

This is the guide I wish I had found 20+ years ago when I discovered I was destined to be the parent of a Special Needs child.

My son has been diagnosed with moderate to severe autism.

The first half of this post is directly copied from What I Felt When I Won the Lottery.

I Won the Lottery

I won the lottery… sort of.

I unexpectedly received a large monthly annuity that will comfortably support my family for life.

There was no lump sum, so I can’t buy a beachfront mansion, or go on a wild spending spree, but the monthly annuity more than triples my family’s monthly income, and since I was comfortable before, every penny of that extra income is discretionary spending.

I haven’t quit work, but if I do, my income still more than doubles.

Imagine you didn’t need to spend any of monthly income on bills (or work to obtain it). Every penny of that income can be spent on what you want rather than what you need.

That’s my life now!

If your financial worries were eliminated in a single moment, how would you feel?

What Would Buddha Do?

Practicing Buddhists strive to eliminate their attachments to reach enlightenment.

So, how would a practicing Buddhist react to an enormous financial windfall?

Would all that crap about eliminating Attachments get buried under a mountain of money?

As an experienced meditator, I carefully observed my reactions out of habit and training even as the emotions overtook me. And I’m still observing the after-effects today.

It’s that emotional experience I share with complete honesty and candor.

Pink Floyd is never a waste of time.

Honor the Muse

Please note that I’m anonymous.

You don’t know me, and you never will.

Please don’t reveal me or dox me as a challenge. I value my anonymity. Please, honor me in this way if you enjoy this work.

And realistically, if my mind or heart were wired for fame, I would lose touch with the feelings I write about here.

Channeling Polyhymnia’s voice is a tremendous writing experience.

I cherish it.

I honor it.

Desiring fame, her voice would fall silent. I don’t want that.

That’s the Spiritual Teacher’s Paradox. If you Want it, you can’t have it.

It’s the downfall of every Spiritual fraud.

Life Changing

I write because this was a tremendous, life-changing, exhilarating emotional experience — an experience that unfortunately very few people have.

And it’s the kind of story I want to read!

Relax, there will be zero gloating in my good fortune.

Dirty Words

If you read some “dirty” words, before you collapse in Righteous disbelief, note that these words carry POWER.

Fuck yeah, they do!

A sudden burst of anger or excitement is aptly captured by that naughty little word.

And everyone gets it.

I can’t destroy the World’s experience to appeal to your tender sensibilities.

Accept it.

Abandon Resistance.

Feel Peace.

It’s a simple, three-step process.

Reader Preparatory Instructions

If you were planning a trip to the moon, you would prepare accordingly, pack your bags and so on.

This work is a long, emotionally engaging read that emerged over weeks of inspiration and craft, driven by the energy unleashed by an empowering financial windfall.

This is not writing you scan for information.

If you want intellectual engagement, philosophical debate, mental masturbation, this work isn’t for you.

Pack up now and leave.

I shit you not. You won’t get any of this.

Go away.

I don’t want to waste your time.

Journey

This work is a journey.

A journey through the depths of the human heart.

Don’t skip around, jump sections, and think you’ve absorbed it. Take it sequentially, as presented.

The flow matters.

Emotional work takes time.

If you need a break, when you share button, you are at a rest stop. If you are enjoying the post, share it.

Share

That’s a place where you can take an emotional breather and you can re-enter the flow of the work without missing a beat.

The share button is better than a commercial.

You will also see many videos. I suggest you stop and watch at least a few moments of them to capture the mood.

Music moves.

Music Feels.

You’ll notice unusual capitalization. The Muse feels that capitals on specific emotions like Love signals I’m referring to the larger, deeper meaning.

I love to write about Love.

Don’t be distracted by the capitalization and wonder why I don’t follow the rules of grammar. Please consider that a Pure Heart needs no rules. It always follows the proper course.

I set your reader expectations very high. I’ve experienced this work many, many times during the writing process.

It moves me.

I believe it will move you too.

So take a breath, relax, and get ready to blast off!

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Shock and Awe

Like a lottery winner, I didn’t know this was coming.

I was lucky.

Since I didn’t foresee this, I had no way to emotionally prepare.

Like a lottery winner, there was a specific moment when I realized my life changed.

No dramatic anticipation of a televised announcement, but I received email detailing the monthly stipend, and when I saw the number, life stopped.

A moment of “Does not compute” followed by…

OMG!

No wait… That can’t be right…

OMG! OMG! OMG!

Are you sure… No…

Yes? YES! OMG!

YES!!!

YES TO EVERYTHING!

Elation!

Elation, so strong and powerful, my heart raced, my adrenal glands emptied, every muscle wanted to move.

I jumped, chest up, face to the heavens, and expelled a bellow that deafened my neighbors.

Empowerment!

The moment the elation ebbed, I felt the underlying power.

POWER!

Money is power. Pure power.

The ability to do what you want, when you want, with who you want!

You gain outsized ability to bend reality to your liking.

The testosterone release hit me so hard, images of the Incredible Hulk pounded my mind.

Anticipation! Excitement!

My future visions immediately changed (my forehead heated notably for weeks).

My life would be amazing — better than my previously limited dreams — not in an imaginative, wouldn’t-it-be-nice kind of way, but in a concrete, tangible reality.

Fantasy plus reality equals exhilaration!

Wow!

This experience is captured the original Count of Monte Cristo, time index 48:45 to 50:15. Richard Chamberlain delivers.

The World is Mine!!!

Unfortunately, I’m not Richard Chamberlain, so my moment of initial empowerment was somewhat less polished.

My mind jumped to AC/DC Back in Black, andI rocked! Oh, how I ROCKED!!!

AC/DC, You channel Pure Passion. Rock On!

Hearing my old adrenaline-pumping favorite with the added financial meaning of “in the black,” I danced in my living room looking like a drunken chimpanzee on roller skates.

I made Elaine look graceful and talented in Seinfeld.

But I danced. I danced, and I didn’t care.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus, People will remember that dance forever! It took Courage to do that. Most people couldn’t endure the ridicule and embarrassment. Kudos!

Yes to Everything

The initial euphoria caused a state of mental fog.

A thousand Desirous thoughts are suddenly activated with new importance, and each desire competes for conscious attention.

Observation is difficult.

Even an experienced meditator is powerless to direct, divert, or in any way harness the mental chaos in moments like this.

Like a rodeo cowboy, you hang on, rely on your spiritual training and practice, and go for the ride.

I sat down after dancing and found the thoughts concerning objects of Desire were loud and insistent. My desires, accustomed to being trapped in Pandora’s Box, screamed for release.

I opened the box, consulted my wish list, and I noticed the first and most impactful change to my psychology.

Suddenly, the answer to everything was YES!

Your Wish List

Indulge me in a brief thought experiment. Consult your shopping wish list, look at something you want, and observe your emotions.

In that first moment, you will feel a flush of Desire; after all, you are looking at something you want.

In the next moment, the counterbalancing force arises like a wet blanket, informing your consciousness that you can’t afford it.

When your mind evaluates that thought, it will agree, and in accepting that information, the flush of Desire morphs into a combination of frustration, longing, and dissatisfaction.

Life sucks.

Have you ever paid careful attention to that process?

Most people haven’t. It happens in a flash.

Desire lurks in dark places.

Willful Ignorance

Be careful you avoid the hypnotic trance of willful ignorance toward Desire.

At first, it feels better to avoid feeling Desire, taking on the persona of a Holy Being, above such worldly temptations.

But this gives Desire a unique Power.

It can cast a spell on you so that you don’t notice when it takes the ship’s helm and pilots you into the rocks.

In this way, you can be secretly completely selfish and yet convince yourself you’re seated at the Right Hand of God.

It’s a beautiful delusion, full of pixies and rainbows.

It’s everywhere. And it’s everyone.

If you think you have risen above, you are delusional and under its spell.

Please watch this video all the way through, perhaps more than once.

Don’t Buy Stuff You Can’t Afford is pure comic genius! It perfectly captures the hypnotic trance of Willful Ignorance toward Desire.

As a bonus, it completely explains everything you need to know about managing Money!

Awesome!

What’s Old is New Again

When I looked at my wish list, my mind dutifully prompted me to feel Desire. In the next moment, my mind habitually reminded me that I couldn’t afford it.

Ahh…. but then, my mind evaluated that idea with new information.

Now, I could afford it.

Instead of following that well-worn pathway of feeling deflated, my mind said, “Yes, you can have that now.”

I was confused.

Wait. What was that?

Yes, you can have that now.

Really? I can have that?

Yeah. Why not?

WOW! OMG! YES!

This Family Rules! Exchanging Self with Other 101.

I looked at the next object. and noticed the same phenomenon. And the next one, and the next one. Finally, I noticed the answer was consistent.

Yes.

Yes to everything.

YES TO EVERYTHING!!!

Power up! Next Level! OMG!

My poor adrenals were blasted again, and again, and again.

I spent the next hour mentally shopping.

I emotionally purchased the Internet.

As each object of my desire was served up, my mind broke the old “you can’t afford this” pattern, and with each instance, I felt a euphoric adrenaline rush.

I was a crack addict who couldn’t put down the pipe.

It was as exhilarating as you can imagine.

After several hours, I felt like a Roman aristocrat leaving Caligula’s Nemi ship, pleasured beyond all expectations.

Golf is Life

I love Golf.

My father set me loose to wander the Sacred Links at age 9. My grandfather maintained the grounds.

Golf intrigues me because it’s a rare competitive sport where the actions of your opponent doesn’t impact your outcome. It isn’t a miniature simulation of war, like most of our popular entertainment.

Golf is you against yourself.

It’s a perfect mirror of your inner life.

It’s a disciplined part of my spiritual practice.

If you want to know a person’s character, observe them for a round of golf, and all will be revealed.

Pilgrimage to Pebble Beach in 1997. Standing on Sacred Ground.

An Emotional Orgasm

With my passion for the game, energized with empowerment, I looked up a travel package to Scotland to play the Open rota courses.

It’s a bucket list item — I started mine at 9 with this item.

It carries emotional juice.

As per the new process, I checked with my mind. A pregnant pause.

Wait? That too?

Sure. Why not. You can afford it.

Wow! YES!

The sudden jolt stopped my heart, literally. I had to prompt myself to breathe.

The euphoric boost launched me into orbit. I landed on the first tee of the Old Course and hit a tee shot over the moon and back again.

It was incredible!

I must admit, I let that feeling linger for a while, like the afterglow of an intense emotional orgasm.

Hold the Feeling

Per my meditation training, when I feel virtue, I’m instructed to hold the feeling as long as possible.

By holding sacred feelings, you burn them into your heart more deeply.

I’m well-practiced at holding feelings in my heart.

That training both served me and harmed me.

First, it served me because, quite frankly, the experience felt fantastic.

But I also knew it was harming me because I was meditating on non-virtue — my own personal greed. I was burning the wrong things into my heart!

But, you know what, I didn’t give a fuck!

It was too fun!!!

Desire won that battle.

There was glory in defeat.

Life Limits

I futilely attempted to satiate my Desires — knowing I was scurrying down a rabbit hole.

However, I noticed the mental process changed, but there were still limits, and suddenly new questions emerged.

Like all feelings, it arose, reached a peak, and faded. And in the aftermath, a new question emerged: “Do you have time for that?”

Hmmm…

Wait. That might be a problem…

My mind stopped for a moment. This was the first downer I had to accept.

I am limited by time.

Hauntingly beautiful song with a really important message.

Crap! I can’t do everything!

I giggled at myself and went back to my search.

But after a time, I noticed that I still had a wish list, but the items on that list were there for reasons other than money, like not having time to enjoy them or the space to store them.

Items fell off.

Right now, it’s empty.

If my Want is appropriate, I buy it. No need to keep a list.

I live in the now.

This video is too long, and Eckhart Tolle never rushes anything, if you know what I mean. That being said, you can’t over-listen to him.

Eckhart Tolle, You are my spiritual Master. I commuted for years listening to every hour of every talk available. Repeatedly. Your wisdom seeped in, even when my attention waned. I would be deeply honored to sit quietly with you.

The Void

Several years ago, I arranged my life to spend several hundred hours in float tanks practicing Lamrim in total sensory deprivation.

Yeah, I know you thought I was odd.

That may have something to do with it.

I learned to hear the distant streams in my mind through years of meditation practice.

The voices and forces I animate dramatically are both the raging rivers and the quiet voices, barely noticeable, difficult to tune.

I had time to meditate in sensory isolation — lots of time. I developed a sensitive radio dial.

It’s a practiced skill, nothing more.

Like hitting golf balls.

I marvel at the Power of the mind. Anyone who devotes time to practice can achieve this.

I’m not the first. The Buddha achieved this 2,500 years ago and went way, way beyond.

He taught meditation.

The monks who’ve been following his footsteps ever since, same thing.

You are more powerful than you realize.

Much more powerful.

I’m odd.

But it’s the kind of Odd that piques your interest, doesn’t it?

Share

A Big Event

After the news settled in, for about a month, I was on a major high, but then something even weirder happened.

But before I go into the details, additional background information is needed to understand why I enjoyed an intense spiritual awakening.

The Voices in My Head

I hear voices in my head. A casual reader might conclude I am psychotic, hallucinating my reality.

I am.

The consensus of modern neuroscience says I’m hallucinating Me.

This video is worth watching all the way through, many times over to absorb it’s Truth. Long version even better.)

As a special bonus, if you fully absorb this message, you will understand the Buddhist concept of Śūnyatā, referring to the Emptiness of Self.

Anil Seth, I salute you! Everything I understand about neuroscience I owe to you. You are a Giant who’s shoulders I stand on.

When you read my descriptions of voices in my mind, these aren’t the loud, insistent voices of schizophrenia.

The mind processes feelings more than thoughts. These feelings can be associated with voice, but often, it takes concentration on aptness to match voice to feeling.

I can give voice to feelings if I can parse their effect from the chorus of feelings and thoughts in my mind.

It takes careful, mindful observation.

But I have no special gift. Anyone can learn this with enough time and focused concentration.

Existing as a disembodied mind in a float tank free from distractions certainly helps.

Enter Zen from There

An apt analogy comes from a Zen Buddhist story.

Master and disciple sit in meditation. The Master was calm, peaceful, and open to life. The disciple was uneasy, his mind aflutter.

The disciple asks, “Master, How do I enter Zen?”

The Master sits and listens. Meanwhile, the disciple’s mind is agitated by impatience for an answer.

Photo by Carlo Trolese on Unsplash

The Master finally says, “Do you hear the mountain stream?”

The disciple turned his attention away from his disturbing thoughts and listened for the distant, faint sounds of cascading water.

He observed.

He became peaceful.

His mind fell silent as he focused on observation.

After some time and focused concentration, the disciple heard the stream.

Excited, the disciple exclaims, “Yes! Master, I can hear the stream.”

The master replied. “Enter Zen from there.”

(the end)

Jack Kornfield, The Roots of Buddhist Psychology was Buddhism 101 for me. I’ve listened to all 9 hours many, many times!

Empowerment

In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, practitioners attend large group events called Empowerments.

In these ceremonies, the practitioner is invited to accept a God-like image of a Buddha into their heart to attain specific benefits.

This is preparation for Tantra, the practice of emulating God’s or the best qualities of the Buddha.

You fake it until you make it in modern parlance.

Being a voracious reader and impatient with bureaucracies, I obtained the Mahamudra Tantra book and started practicing independently.

I gave myself all empowerments, and I worked on everything.

Some practitioners would chastise me and question my realizations, but most recognize that my realizations are what they are.

Conditions For Awakening

Eckhart Tolle in The Power of Now describes his awakening.

He bathed in an emotional cesspool of anxiety and toxic shame that created conditions for the spontaneous collapse of his ego.

It sounded rather unpleasant.

I wouldn’t want to follow his path.

This is long, but worth the time invested.

Eckhart Tolle’s awakening was sudden and completely unexpected, and he did nothing to bring it about.

If the conditions are right, this can happen, but there are no guarantees. He might have suffered the rest of his life like so many others.

I had something similar occur to me.

When I Won the Lottery as I described it, I suddenly enjoyed a much higher level of Qi flow.

I was excited.

This excitement coursing through me for several weeks caused all manner of internal changes.

Practicing Tibetan Buddhism planted seeds in my mind. My sudden financial good fortune watered those seeds.

The seeds sprouted.

All at once.

Power Up!

Power Up!

Power Up!!!

Empowered!

At about 5:30 one evening, I felt forces brewing inside of me that were building to something. I didn’t know what it was, but I strongly suspected I was about to have an intense emotional experience.

I gathered my family around me, and I began hugging and later jumping while embracing my 22-year-old special needs son.

My son loves me unconditionally, and his love and mine combined to bring about the emergence.

It was beautiful.

After some manic yelling and a few aftershocks, over the course of about 15 minutes, the process was complete.

I was empowered.

OMG! I was really, really Empowered!!!

My heart light ignited, and I was ablaze!

Please listen to Heartlight as you read on. It will help you feel what I felt.

Steven Spielberg, The moment ET’s Heart lit up, my heart burst open and flooded me with joy. Thank you. It was beautiful. You’re amazing!

You helped me prepare.

Emotional Quasar

In the moments of first empowerment, right after the euphoria ebbed slightly, and I perceived the raw Qi power flowing through me, all my chakras were blown open, but my heart chakra channeled most of that flow.

I am grateful for my training.

To make sense of the chaos, my mind instinctively jumped to a Lamrim meditation I practice often to provide an outlet for the extreme inflow. The instructions for the meditation capture what happened.

…through the power of our pure intention of wishing love and great accumulation of merit… Infinite light rays radiate from our body and pervade the entire universe, reaching the bodies and minds of all living beings and bestowing upon them the supreme happiness of permanent inner peace.

My heart felt like a quasar radiating light with such intensity that it outshone the entire Milky Way galaxy by a thousand times!

OMG!!!

Per my training, I held that feeling as long as I could, holding it, feeling it, watching it, marveling at the Power!

It was incredible!!!

Perhaps you felt my Blessing?

I assure you I did.

Imagine that experience!

Blast Off!!!

Geshe Kelsang Gyatso– 1931–2022, RIP. You were the bridge between our cultures. I owe you everything. I felt your Love. Thank you.

I request one last Blessing: Please, find me in the Bardo and guide me on my journey. I will navigate by the Power of your Radiant Light.

Thank you for reading Selfless Anatta. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Share

Take a break; that was intense.

Ponder this: Do pork chops float?

Behold the power of a jarring non-sequitur to clear your mind.

After the Ecstacy, the Laundry

Jack Kornfield wrote After the Ecstacy, the Laundry, describing mundane life after a peak experience.

I had to return to my life and see what skills and realizations remained.

So far, there has been little or no change since the experience.

I’ve calmed down, but if anything, my heart and mind race faster today.

In fact, many of the new skills have sharpened as my mind integrates more data and continues processing at lightning speed.

Whenever I am out in public, I find people gravitate to me.

Previously, I was a loner, content to be invisible. Now, people can’t seem to avoid noticing me.

It’s odd.

I now possess skills in team building and personal persuasion I previously lacked, probably related to the above increase in my charisma.

I also noticed a dramatic improvement in my ability to analyze situations that require strategy or military combat.

I guess the Art of War and the Prince combined with my studies of game theory and statistics.

My diet went from good to perfect.

My heart rate went from 50–60 BPM to 90–100 BPM, so my metabolism and caloric burn are off the charts.

It’s like I’m on speed without the drug.

I lost 35 pounds over the last year (started before all of this), and I sustain a trim 158–160 pound frame.

I went to see psychiatrists at the urging of my family.

Unsurprisingly, that was a mistake.

The signs of a spiritual awakening are also the signs of a health condition the medical community aggressively treats with medication.

It is better to have this experience in India or Tibet, where people recognize it for what it is.

The medical establishment wants to drug the joy out of me.

I have been officially diagnosed based on multiple interviews with professionals with various levels of medical training through a fully licensed psychiatrist.

I am bipolar and prone to mania. I currently suffer from an extreme case of mania.

They strongly suggest I take drugs to suppress my mental activity.

Apparently, extreme happiness is a sign of a mental disorder.

Type 1 Bipolar is sometimes characterized by mania followed by a fall to a normal baseline on a repeating cycle.

Mania is my new baseline.

That’s what differs. There is no fall to a lower state.

I wouldn’t have guessed happiness is diagnosed as bipolar.

But in retrospect, I observe that few people are genuinely happy, so I understand why true happiness is perplexing to Western doctors.

I find their opinions amusing since they mean so little to me.

I am working with my personal physician to gather enough data points to establish a new medical definition.

I am bipolar with constant and unrelenting mania of only the positive pole.

The criteria for this particular diagnosis are challenging to meet.

The patient must always be jubilantly happy and totally excited to be alive.

The patient must display boundless energy and perfect physical health.

The patient must have at least 20 years of disciplined meditation practice; Buddhist or Indian mysticism is preferred, Tibetan Buddhism being the gold standard.

The patient must be interviewed by other Tibetan Buddhist practitioners (or whatever mystic branch is involved) who provide 3rd party legitimacy.

It’s a high bar.

If enough time passes and the mania fails to subside, and the other pole is never even glimpsed, I am convinced the new diagnosis will stick.

You never know; the medical community is very committed to their erroneous point of view.

When Will We Discuss Special Needs Parenting?

The entire post thus far has been preparing you for what you will read next.

Without the background, you would not trust me, and you wouldn’t have been emotionally primed to feel the more difficult emotions we will encounter next.

I initially excluded this long opening section, and the post lost its power.

You needed to be guided to this point.

We will soon delve into the deepest, darkest place in the human heart.

Without preparation, you wouldn’t be able to take it.

I’ve done my best to prepare you.

Please read on.

Best Boy in the Whole World

If you read my bio, you see that I have an adult son with cognitive disabilities, a diagnosis of autism.

He’s undeniably special in so many ways.

His disability means he lacks sophisticated ego development.

In some ways, his mind is a pure land without some of the strong negative emotions that burden many of us.

In other ways, his mind is unrelenting chaos and confusion, leaving him completely helpless.

He requires 24-hour care.

I still hold his hand when we cross a street.

When my wife and I recognized our Fate, his condition forced a lot of unwanted spiritual growth upon us both.

The Moment We Knew He Was Autistic

We had been noticing our son was unusual since he was a baby. Most notably, we were dismayed by the lack of eye contact.

He refused to look at us.

No matter what we did, he simply wouldn’t hold our gaze.

We were new parents, but we knew that wasn’t right. We carried on, hoping it was a phase he would grow out of.

One day, my wife came across a magazine article that listed the signs of autism. My son checked every box.

My wife immediately knew.

She showed the article to me, and I immediately knew.

We didn’t take it to be good news.

R.E.M. gets it.

The Incipient Error

We didn’t know it at the time, but in that moment of acceptance of his condition, we made a huge mistake that took us about 15 years to correct.

We thought this was terrible news.

It was not.

It certainly wasn’t what we wanted. No parent wants to discover their child has limitations, serious limitations on his ability to contribute to the world or even care for himself.

We had no shortage of friends and family willing to confirm our worst fears that our life was over and we needed to eat a shit sandwich.

We found support groups that further reinforced that we had endured this awful tragedy, and someday if we were lucky, we would develop a taste for shit sandwiches and choke them down as a badge of honor.

That’s fucked up.

This mistaken interpretation of our circumstances was the incipient error.

If I had known then what I know now, 15 years of heartache for my family could have been avoided entirely.

Saving you that 15 years of suffering is why I wrote this.

I hope you learn this lesson sooner.

If you want to really explore the power of incipient ideas, I suggest you watch the movie Inception. It’s incredible, and it makes the point I’m pointing to here better than I ever could.

The Going Gets Tough

Like most parents who discover they have a problem, my wife and I set out to do something about it.

This wasn’t a bad choice.

You wouldn’t ignore your child’s illness and allow it to remain untreated.

It wasn’t our actions; it was the spirit and intention behind our actions that created problems.

Our intention was to “cure” our son. To change him.

We were rejecting who he was in favor of who we wanted him to be.

We still want him to grow and improve, and we make every effort and accommodation for him, but while striving for more, we are entirely content and happy with him, just the way he is.

That was not our initial mindset. At least, I know it was not mine.

This mindset was a toxically poisonous cocktail for my heart.

I rejected my child and insisted that he be someone other than who he is.

Not openly and overtly to his face, but secretly, buried in a dark corner of my heart.

Fighting and Losing

One of the most toxic attitudes I encountered feigns righteous goodness.

The idea is that I would fight for my child no matter what and never rest until he is cured, fixed, made unbroken.

This was a commitment to rejection.

I was setting my intention on fighting a battle against accepting my son for who he was.

I didn’t persist in this notion long, fortunately.

This war couldn’t be won, and the only wise course of action was not to enter the conflict.

Drop the toxic idea that you will cure or fix your special needs child.

Sorry to state this so bluntly, but you will not succeed.

The futility of entering no-win scenarios is the key lesson from the Movie War Games. It’s a short clip. Watch and learn.

Anger, Anger, and More Anger

Whenever most people encounter something they don’t want, they get angry.

This anger may be directed at someone or something or an unfocused rage against God or Fate.

It’s victim thinking, and it distracts from the underlying sadness.

When the parent of a special needs child gets the diagnosis, all their dreams of the future collapse in a heap.

Anger is the most common initial reaction, but if any parent digs deeper, they find an endless reservoir of sadness.

It’s a despair and pain so deep you can’t imagine surviving a plunge into that cold water.

Yet, every parent must go there, cry an ocean of tears, and cleanse the sadness from the heart.

There is no other way.

Tears wash the stains from your heart.

Green Day writes some of the finest and most moving songs I’ve encountered. Masterful. This song aptly captures the death of a parent’s dreams for their child and the despair that follows.

The Soul Death of a Thousand Slights

The experience of most special needs parents when they take their child out into the world is a death of a thousand slights.

When my son was in toddler time, he couldn���t figure out itsy-bitsy-spider. All the other children could. My wife would sit and weep, powerless to do anything about it.

Life is full of millions of those little disappointments.

When my son was 9, we purchased a gumball machine because he liked watching the gumballs circle down the track to where the gumball came out.

He kept clamoring for gumballs, so we thought we might have to get rid of it.

We didn’t need to. I simply covered it with a towel, and it disappeared.

He could walk right up to the large gumball dispenser only disguised by a thin white sheet, and it no longer existed in his world.

That’s sad.

These experiences are repeated over and over and over again.

Each one is a painful reminder of his limitations.

It sucked.

And the main reason it was so painful is because we failed to accept his condition.

Each incident was a reminder of how fucked up our child was.

That was doubly sad because it didn’t need to be that way.

The Lure of Snake Oil

Desperate parents searching for a cure are susceptible to all manner of ripoffs by con artists selling Snake Oil.

This is reinforced by stories such as Lorenzo’s Oil, where a parent really did find a cure for an unusual medical condition through dogged research.

Every special needs parent thinks they will be the lucky one who discovers the cure.

It’s not going to happen.

This scene is gripping. The worst news a parent could possible obtain.

If you have money, there is no shortage of hucksters willing to take your money.

We know a family that purchased a hyperbaric oxygen chamber for their home, thinking it would be a cure.

I installed stereo speakers on each side of my son’s crib so that I could play brainwave entrainment music to influence his brain states.

We sat through a sales pitch from a doctor who was an expert on magnetic resonance therapy. It would have cost us more than a new car.

Many parents go down the diet and nutrition rabbit hole and determine gluten or wheat is their enemy. They embark on mineral chelation therapies.

It’s not that these snake oil treatments provide no benefit, but it’s certainly true that they don’t cure autism, and they never will.

The worst part of the sales pitch is when the huckster says, “What if this was the cure? Wouldn’t you want to try and make sure?”

Playing on the emotions of desperate parents is a ticket straight to Hell. The Passionate Rage I feel, beckons me to facilitate their journey.

Save your money, and don’t purchase snake oil.

Accepting The Awful Truth

Parent support groups and even entire charities devoted to doing something about autism share a common mindset.

Parents must learn to accept their awful fate.

This attitude is slowly changing, at least publicly, but little has changed privately.

For the most part, parents are convinced their child is broken, and they must learn to accept a defective misfit.

That is wrong on many levels.

This will move you. Even misfits want to bring joy to others by simply being themselves. If only their parents could accept that. Sad.

Patient Acceptance

Buddhists call the process of dissipating anger from disappointment Patient Acceptance.

When I was young, if my parents became upset because I wasn’t learning something, their displeasure strongly motivated me to figure things out.

That approach is completely counterproductive, particularly with special needs children.

I developed endless patience, and through accepting him, I learned what acceptance really is.

Love is accepting someone exactly as they are, wholeheartedly, not wanting them to be any different.

That lesson took 15 me years to learn.

I wish I could apply it to my wife. We would have less conflict.

I hope you learn it quicker than I did.

The rest of this post is intended to help you get there.

This video will help you understand real acceptance.

Trigger Alert

Here is where everything gets difficult.

Really difficult.

What you are about to read will tear at your heart.

Brace yourself for pain, evil, and the darkest of Dark.

Absorb this next section with an open heart, and you will earn an A+ in Compassion.

You’ve been trigger-warned.

1 in 10,000

I once sat in an Individualized Education Program meeting where I was given a report detailing my son’s cognitive ability.

It was measured as less than the

Let that sink in.

If you are a parent with aspirations for your child, you should feel that one easily.

I felt the deepest, darkest black hole in the entire universe consume my soul at that moment.

There was little pleasure in it.

In fact, I recall no pleasure at all.

Have you ever experienced 100% pain in every fiber of your Being?

It sucks.

Hard.

My son and I were the test subjects for a cruel joke of an evil demon.

I was pissed off, and I wanted to do something about this mistake.

The Evil Demon

I chose to enter the black hole to confront the Evil Demon:

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SEND ME A FUCKED-UP KID LIKE THAT?

I was decidedly unhappy.

The demon embraced his experiment with enthusiasm.

He felt my Qi transfer to him, sucking my life force for his consumption, like an emotional parasite, but worse.

Because he felt my presence an unexpected bonus, he told me what he did, believing it would be more painful that way — tastier, nourishing for him, but never fulfilling; that’s the demon’s paradox.

The evil of his intentions absorbed my anger and strengthened him. He was feeding on me.

Experiments to Maximize Suffering

He said,

“I created two Beings. I took the allocation of smarts for both of you, and for the lulz, I gave you all of it and left none for him.

Both conditions are rife with suffering, so both lives should generate enormous pain and rejection of life itself.

You will become a prideful and arrogant prick, in case you didn’t already notice that, and he will be toxically shamed believing his life isn’t worth living at all.

I have high hopes that you will turn completely evil.

I knew you would completely surrender life to me in a firestorm of anger and hate, and your Qi would feed me.

How do you feel about that?”

I was triggered.

The angry tirade of expletives from my anger and hatred burst forth, raging with the intense, searing fire.

That motherfucker was going to die, and I was going to kill him.

I was going to crush his soul — make him pay for doing this to me.

I felt my Selfish Desire rise up, infused with heat and hate, and flood my Qi with power.

I took action.

I directed this fury toward him in a ferocious energy beam that would have melted an ice giant.

He absorbed my initial volley and laughed.

The Choice

He said,

That’s not good enough. I want more. Let me give you a choice.

I would prefer you live to continue to torturing yourself and your son.

You probably didn’t realize this, but when he looks at you, hoping to feel love, connection and warmth, instead he sees contempt in your eyes, it sends him the message he’s broken, defective, a complete reject unworthy of Life.

The world would be better off if he were gone.

It’s toxic shame, the worst, most painful sense of personal disgust imaginable.

He feels lower than low when you do that, and you do it hundreds of times a day.

Every day.

Day in, day out.

Torture, and toxic, searing pain.

I love it!

I absorb that pain, revel in it. It’s bliss, on steroids. And what’s better, the more you do it, the stronger I get, and the pain gets worse and worse.

The Power and the Glory are Mine!!!

Ahhh. That felt wonderful, just thinking about it, but I said I would offer you a choice, so here it is:

If you want, I can destroy your son, make it like he was never born. I can extinguish him from existence if you like. I can even remove the memories so it never even happened.

It would end your pain. That’s what you want, right?

That’s why you’re here!

With him gone, you won’t have anything to disturb your mind.

You will be able to leave this place in peace and have the life you were previously entitled to — you know, 2.4 kids and all.

What is your choice?

I thought about that.

In my angry state, it wasn’t a difficult choice.

Is my personal happiness more important than my son’s life?

I chose.

It was the right choice for ME.

I said, “Fuck yeah, take away this pain. Erase his defective ass and hit the fucking reset button.”

The demon dutifully complied, and my son, and everything he represents was gone.

The demon paused, and looked at me, and asked, “How do you feel?”

I checked my feelings and noted, “Good. Relieved, my burden is gone. Thank you.”

He said,

Congratulations! You just committed cold-blooded murder!

And you chose it!

You wanted him to die — and you got your wish.

Your heart is twisted with Selfish Desire, and you harnessed it to commit an egregious, unforgivable act.

You‘ve proven you’re an able apprentice.

I said, “Why can I still remember? You said you would erase the memories.”

He replied, “I erased everyone else’s memory of him, so he has no existence outside of your mind.

But I can’t remove the heart stain of Your Choices entirely, so you must live with it.”

I said, “If I’d known that was the deal, I wouldn’t have made that choice.”

He laughed,

You can’t lie to me. You would have made the same choice either way.

You’re just upset that your desires weren’t satiated.

And why would you trust a demon anyway?

Pray I don’t alter the deal further.

Feeling the betrayal, I exploded again.

This time, he was going down!

My adrenals opened, and every fiber of my being rose up for one final assault.

One decisive battle.

I sustained this hatred, beaming it intensely at him, channeling all my frustration and anger until it reached a fever pitch, and I could no longer do battle.

My Qi ran out.

He won.

He glowed with a red aura while he absorbed my Qi, bathing in it, reveling in the power I surrendered to him.

As I lay there spent, in crushed defeat, I thought, perhaps, it was over.

And end to suffering.

But no.

Then he gives me one more fact to chew on:

I’m trapped in Saṃsāra.

I need to go back and do it all over again in my next life.

And the next one, and the next one.

Endlessly.

Now, my failure was complete.

Hell is Inside, not Outside

When my heart felt the Evil Demon, I sensed his hotline to Hell.

In that moment, I realized Hell need not be a physical location.

True Hell — the worst place to exist — lies buried in the deepest region of the human heart, and you need not wait for death to experience it.

Cruelty of the Demon

Cruelty is an advanced achievement on the Dark path, synthesizing indifference (absence of love) and malice (evil intention).

I find the feeling so painful, so toxic; I know it only to know it; I never linger there.

I hope you don’t see it in your heart.

Evil lurks in the shadows.

Scrolls of the Dark Arts for Scholars

Dark Arts Instruction Manuals:

One: The Prince, by Niccolò Machiavelli. Amoral statecraft.

Two: The Art of War, by Sun Tzu, Statecraft and organized violence.

Three: The 48 Laws of Power, by Robert Greene, who probably thought this was good literature.

Read them for knowledge, not instruction.

Unless you read them as a “What-Not-to-Do-Manual.” Then, they become virtuous.

Funny how that works.

This is a great movie about corruption of Power.

Richard Gere, I believe Power, as a work of Art, Influenced both of us. Powerful Performance! Punny!

Your Purity of Heart Enriches the World.

I see you’re Preparing a Pure Land. I offer my Blessings.

Master Yoda discussing the Dark Side. You know the Dark Side from the Light by the option of Choice. Light gives Choice. Dark does not.

George Lucas, Yoda is the voice of your Wisdom. Watching Star Wars as a boy in 1977 was the most exhilarating adventure of my life. You inspired me to Feel the Force!!! Now, I do! Thank you!

Note to the Kind people who prepare Individualized Education Program test reports for family review:

No further helpful information comes from high levels of decimal precision. The program recommendations will not change.

However, decimal precision does apply to parents’ feelings, and very, very low numbers exponentially increase the pain inflicted on parents who read that.

Just so you know.

I think it is better to avoid that in the future.

Based on what you read above, generating regret to guide your heart should be easy.

Share Selfless Anatta

You can relax. I’m turning on the Light.

I’m bringing in reinforcements, my White Knight of Passion. He will help.

Wherever you find darkness, the light is only one choice away.

I Hit the Lottery!

How likely is it to have a special child? Well, they measure that.

Mine is 1 in 10,000.

Talk about hitting the lottery!

Check out what I got in this deal!

Wow! I am Lucky!!!

My son never talks back to me with defiant anger.

Thankfully, he has speech, though content is limited.

It’s not content; it’s connection!

But he never angers me with willful disobedience or back-talk, so our household is peaceful.

Plus.

My son enjoys endless play and fun.

It’s like living with Peter Pan.

We play Mario Kart, Wii Golf, real Golf, we hike, walk the dog together, whatever I want, and whatever pleases him we do as a team.

We share the same interests and activities. He’s a playmate for life.

Who wouldn’t want that?

Plus. Plus.

My son can’t be spoiled.

He never becomes indulgent and entitled as a typical child would.

I can give him everything I have emotionally, and he just accepts it with gratitude and lives a happy life.

I can practice Giving, on steroids, and there are no negative consequences.

Plus. Plus. Plus.

My son loves me.

He loves me openly and entirely with no reservations, doubts, or fears of abandonment.

He feels his challenges and knows he needs help.

I see the gratitude in his eyes; I feel the gratitude in his heart.

I know the Pure Love of another Being.

Plus. Plus. Plus. Plus.

Wow! Four of them!

Who wouldn’t want a son like that?

And this isn’t merely “looking at the bright side.”

There is no dark side. He and his love are entirely pure.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Exchanging Self with Other

My son is my Holy Spiritual Guide.

Every spiritual realization I have is from working with him.

I practice complete Exchanging Self with Other, abandoning my own will to fulfill his.

I don’t merely try to “put myself in his shoes;” that’s only part of the way.

I don’t imagine what he wants, weigh it against what I want, and try to compromise. That’s half-assed.

While consideration is essential for Kindness, a virtue, it falls short of the mark I set for this practice.

I ignore what I Want as useless information. (Difficulty 10) This never gets easier… well, maybe a little, but you never master it.

I give him 100% of my undivided attention for as long as possible. Completely undivided. (Difficulty 5) It’s just focused concentration, something you should always practice.

I determine what he wants, exercise my wisdom on appropriateness, and then practice Giving. (Difficulty: Currently 0, Previously 10). This area improves dramatically with practice. It’s also just good parenting.

This practice is both easy and challenging, exhausting and exhilarating if you do it moment by moment.

I don’t exchange once for a moment, watch a movie, and come back to see what’s happening. That’s not it.

It takes focused concentration until I permit him to practice Mario Kart or engage in some other activity by himself briefly while I recharge.

As a side benefit, he demonstrates the Qi value of Play, warming my heart.

I find the practice so rewarding, Qi inducing, that I find the times of recharge are fewer and shorter.

That happens with practice. Everything gets better.

I can’t spoil him, so I can practice whenever I want.

He likes it.

The True Power of Narrative

Okay, we are going really, really deep here — Highest-level spiritual realization potential.

This is the crucial point of the entire work.

Pay careful attention.

If you can deeply internalize this one, you will understand the Buddhist concept of Śūnyatā, pertaining to the Emptiness of Meaning.

If you notice, in the two stories, dark and light, the only fact involved was the report that said 0.01.

Nothing else was presented as fact upon which to hang your feelings.

Every other emotion that sprang from that fact depends entirely upon how I interpret 0.01, 1 in 10,000.

That’s the incipient choice I described earlier.

Please go back and reread the openings if you didn’t notice.

It’s the key to understanding what comes next.

Deepen your understanding by reading those stories, imagining my son was a true savant, a genius with a 200 IQ.

Would that change your feelings?

The emotional starting point changes, but the destination is identical.

How Love Transforms the World

Love is a Choice.

Why did the deepest, darkest night consume my soul?

I chose no.

I didn’t want an autistic child.

Why did feelings of elation arise, like I won the lottery?

I chose yes,

I wanted an autistic child.

I encountered the fact about my child: He is 1 in 10,000.

I had a choice to make about how to interpret that fact and weave it into the narrative of my life.

I could choose to reject my child and go to the Dark Side, assisted by victim-enabling groups confirming my life-sucks narrative.

I could choose to accept my child, completely and wholeheartedly, exactly as he is, not wanting him to be any different, and I go to the Light Side.

Neither interpretation is being forced upon me.

I have the power to choose.

And so do you.

Which would you choose?

Love empowers you to choose how you see the World.

Everything else follows.

That’s Power!

Choose a World of Love, and you Live in a World of Love.

Choose Love!!!

It’s Glorious!

Please listen to Bette Midler’s The Rose below, contemplate what you just read, and reread it as many times as necessary until the message opens your heart. It will explode with joy.

Bette Midler, The Rose is the greatest piece of musical art I’ve ever experienced. You are G.O.A.T. Thank you! Thank you so much!!!

Fundamental Truth of the Mind

Every belief in your head begins as a seed planted in Body Reality.

Some information in the outside world enters your awareness.

Philosophers call these Brute Facts or, more simply, Data.

From there, you have complete control to interpret the meaning of that fact.

This is the key insight from Victor Frankl’s Man Search for Meaning.

Victor Frankl (1905–1997), You came first. Your Clear Vision Shines in Man’s Search for Meaning. Your Wisdom Guides me.

Imagine

Now you understand the mechanism by which Love transforms the world.

What would happen if you acted on it?

What would happen if we all did?

Imagine that!

Another song to enjoy and contemplate what would happen if we all embraced joy.

John Lennon (1940–1980), RIP, Visionary, Inspiring. My son Loves the Beatles!

If you felt that, suppose the realization stuck with you.

I suggest you sit with it.

It’s tasty.

You may feel activation in both your heart and your solar plexus as you activate both your Heart and Power chakras.

It’s a body signal confirming you feel the Power of Love.

One emotional frequency you can tune into and check yourself comes from Ernst Cline and Steven Spielberg.

It feels like discovering Halliday’s Easter Egg in Ready Player One.

Jealousy Destroys Everything

Writing this work was an act of pure joy for me. However, there is a downside of publishing a piece like this.

Jealous comments.

If you read vitriol in the comments, it will likely be from someone under the influence.

No word, sentence, or feeling conveyed in the entire work as one ounce of motivation to make anyone feel envy.

The people who do that are psychic vampires draining energy from afar to shove up their own root chakra to feel that wonderful elevating smoke blow up their ass.

No. That isn’t me.

If you perceive that, I suggest you look in the mirror and contemplate what’s to follow.

Jealousy’s Deep Roots

Jealousy has deep roots, but it can be toppled or at least managed.

When you first came into existence as pure, aware consciousness, there was just observation.

In the first moment of self-awareness, consciousness observes itself and realizes, “I exist.” Buddhists call this the primordial error.

In the next moment comes the feeling, “I am important.”

And with it, we give birth to Selfish Desire, our instinct to survive, and other primal forces needed for individual survival.

If my life were in danger, my Selfish Desire would take the helm to do what’s required, so I guess Selfish Desire has some value after all.

No, I Won’t Give You My Money

Linguists say the first two words in any language are “mine” and “no,” meaning “not yours.”

The newly awakened “I” desires resources to survive. My resources, my possessions. One of the most powerful life forces is my Qi and my desire to live — same for you.

It’s the third step in the boot-up sequence for becoming a self, right after I exist, and I am important.

Don’t physically attack my son or my family. The forces unleashed would be primal, as my family would appreciate during the time of need. This feeling drives gun sales.

For a million reasons, I don’t own guns, but I understand why people do. It’s primal.

Since we live in a group, and some have more things than others, I observe things I want, but I can’t have what I want because of another “I,” that awful person I can project all forms of nastiness onto. And why did that occur?

Their my said no.

The root of jealousy is in every interpersonal relationship. It’s deep. And it gets continuously fed by Desire.

Every desire of your “I” competes with another.

Conflict is inevitable.

How Does Jealousy Express Itself?

The continuous flow of Qi diverted toward jealousy manifests in feelings of displeasure whenever we observe others’ pleasures, desirable traits, or good luck.

As you read this post, I’ve sprinkled clues about the quality of life my family enjoys, both materially and emotionally.

I can assure you it’s even better that you imagine in many ways, large and small.

Does that make you uncomfortable?

That discomfort.

That’s jealousy.

Strong or weak measures your affliction.

Feel it for yourself. What do you find?

If you struggle with jealousy and you feel the urge to write some comment tearing me and my family down, before you make that choice, please put your discomfort and angry feelings aside for a moment.

I want to help you.

Indulge me in one final thought experiment.

It’s long, but if you’ve made it this far, this will be your emotional payoff.

Why will this help?

My son is the beneficiary of all the goodness and empowerment in my family. He will inherit all our wealth, including the annuity. He has everything someone could be jealous of.

Yet, it’s hard to feel jealousy toward him.

He’s helpless.

He’s harmless.

He’s fun, funny, and entertaining.

He isn’t competing with anyone. He has no ill will toward anyone.

If he met you, he would only want the best for you and probably offer a high-five or ask for a big hug.

How could anyone Hate on that?

Wouldn’t you want joy and happiness to be bestowed on such a being?

Compassion can’t be completely dead in you.

In a dog-eat-dog world, he would be the first casualty.

Surely, you can feel something for someone like that, can’t you?

Give me a Reason

Explore the reasons you usually feel jealousy toward someone.

When you compare yourself to others, which is an excellent practice to abandon, what are your areas of comparison?

Smarts, looks, charm, achievements, wealth?

No matter how you compare yourself to my son, you will find that my son is not competing with you.

If you compete with him, you win.

Smarts

We hit that one pretty hard.

You are smarter than he is.

Good Looking

Okay, he’s good-looking (a vain father will agree), but what does “good-looking” get you?

He didn’t achieve (endure) the emotional maturing that typically accompanies puberty.

He has no friends or outside relationships, and he will never have a one-on-one interpersonal relationship.

He will remain a virgin his entire life.

You probably don’t want that.

Charismatic

My son has no social circle or fame of any kind, nor does he desire it.

He does have personal charisma, a smile that melts hearts, but he doesn’t do anything with it.

He hasn’t created a persona like Bill Murray to live out his life through that character. Any value you might gain from charisma is lost on him.

Not much to be jealous of here.

Bill Murray, Golf history records you as G.O.A.T. I admire your Qi and free spirit. Your most underrated performance is The Razor’s Edge. You inspire me!

BTW, your reasoning for not joining a Monastery in Stripes (NSFW). That actually changed my life. I never again considered that path. As a teen, I failed to see the advantages of a monastic life. ~~wink~~

Harold Ramis (1944–2014) RIP. You both Rule!

Attainments

My son is generous, loving, open, and heartwarming, and he has many desirable and honorable traits.

He is world-class at Mario Kart, and we play a lot of Mario Golf, too.

But before you feel jealous of his attainments, please consider that he doesn’t speak in back-and-forth conversations and possesses no concept of money.

I said, “We don’t have enough money.”

Unimpressed, he commanded me to “Buy more money!”

When you think about it, he’s actually an investing savant.

Every successful investment I ever made was purchasing an income stream.

We were cleaning up recently, and I asked him to put a floor mat down in front of the refrigerator.

He put it inside.

A floor mat in the refrigerator.

Apparently, in his mind, that seemed like the place to put it; after all, I said something to him about the refrigerator.

You shouldn’t feel envy for his attainments.

Rich

My son has never known financial lack. In that sense, he’s very wealthy.

He doesn’t want many objects, and we could easily afford to give him everything he wanted even before the empowerment.

If you want to obsess over toilet paper, well….

The tower of toilet paper, a treasure beyond compare. I wish my favorite toys were so simple—and cheap.

But being “rich” is more than that.

If your only want is his money, and no other aspect of his life, only so that you could have unlimited spending power, then jealousy really isn’t your problem.

You’re haunted by the Hungry Ghost.

See: Hungry Ghosts and the Magic Wish-Fulfilling Tree

Rejoicing

Whenever I rejoice in the virtues and accomplishments of those with greater attainments than mine, it makes them feel good, and it makes me feel fantastic.

Did this writing help you?

Do you feel that you can see the light shining brightly at the end of the tunnel?

Rejoice in that!!!

You are better off than when you started.

You have no reason to be jealous. You won’t find those feelings so hard to ignore if they arise.

My life, my family life, that can be your life — if you choose it.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a world of Love, Acceptance, and purity of Heart?

It’s yours.

You can have that right now!

Take the next step. Please rejoice in my family’s good fortune.

Live for a moment like we live every day!

It will make you feel fantastic!

Celebrate with Us!

I want to lift you back up, higher and higher.

It’s time to put all your troubles aside and celebrate.

Come celebrate with me and my family!

Feel the joy vicariously through us.

Rejoice with us.

If you allow yourself for even a moment to feel those feelings, you can have a taste of that power and joy. I promise you will love it!

Listen to this song and sing with me! Feel it. Really let yourself GO!

There’s a party goin’ on right here A celebration to last throughout the years So bring your good times and your laughter too We gonna celebrate your party with you Come on now

Celebrate good times, come on (It’s a celebration) Celebrate good times, come on (Let’s celebrate)

It’s time to come together It’s up to you, what’s your pleasure? (Everyone around the world come on)

Yahoo! IT’S A CELEBRATION!!!

The Morning After and the Rest of Our Lives

The Very Special Heart Quasar for My Tribe

Special needs parenting is challenging in ways other parents don’t face. We share a unique bond — a shared emotional experience others can only imagine.

We are a tribe.

I have one last gift for you and that special person in your life.

The young man above has only known Love, Acceptance, and a feeling of Wholeness.

You can give your special person that life — if you choose to.

Do you need more Qi to do it? Let me give you some.

Imagine the person above is your special person. The empty seat is yours.

Sit with your special someone, play the song How Could Anyone, and your Heart Quasar will BLAZE!!!

Hold that feeling for as long as you can. It will change everything!

Shaina Noll, A million thanks for a million tears, washing the stains of pain from my heart. First, You helped me accept myself, then you helped me accept my son. All the love in the Universe to you!!!

A Special Needs Parent’s User’s Manual for the Heart

When I realized my son was different and autism was to blame (notice the victim feeling), I scoured the Internet looking for advice.

I didn’t realize I had a choice of interpretation from day one, so I followed my initial reaction — this sucks — accepted it as Truth, and sealed my fate.

I wish I had found a manual like this one back in the day.

It would have saved me years of heartache.

If you want to honor me, Please forward this Love to every family you know touched by special needs.

They will thank you for it.

Thank you for reading Selfless Anatta. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Finally, the end. You can relax now.

~~wink~~

Anatta

[bitchfitch]

So the good news about the totk release being such a fucking mess is that i got two copies of the game in my order. I've double triple checked that they only charged me once and my GameStop account shows only one. Which means I'll be returning the unopened copy and if anyone asks it's because my son was naughty and isn't getting the game as planned so can I please have my money back.