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tarosin · 3 years

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The great adventures of y/n, Tommy, Jack and Tubbo

Requested:yes/no

Pairing: Platonic jack/tommy/tubbo/reader

Summary: another day another adventure

Content warning: cursing / I didn't proof read

An: reader has bright unnatural hair I wrote a lot, I can't figure out how to add read more on mobile I'm sorry

The music you were currently listening to was interrupted by the discord group notifying you that you have a new message.

Tommy: Y/N HOW BUSY ARE YOU TUBBO HAS COME TO VISIT AND JACK IS HERE

y/n: I mean I've currently got hair dye on but it’s being washed off and dried in around 20 minutes, why?

y/n: WAIT TUBBO?!?!

tubbo: oh yeah I forgot to tell you

y/n: how did you forget you know what nevermind, I’m glad you’re here :]

jack: we should be here in an hour so you have plenty of time to get ready

tubbo: what colour dye y/n

y/n: you’ll see soon enough as apparently, you’re all showing up at my house

Tommy: I suggest you wear comfortable shoes

y/n: I am terrified

Tommy: you have nothing to fear... for now

•••

luckily it had only taken you just over 40 minutes to get ready giving you roughly 20 minutes to prepare for the adventure ahead. or so you thought, as soon as you sat down ready to check your phone the sound of Tommy and tubbo laughing could be heard from your room, jack sent a message “hey we got here extremely early I’m sorry there’s no rush the others have been distracted by dreams music :)”

grabbing a backpack from next to your bed you had quickly chucked your phone and purse into the bag unsure as to what you’re going to need today.

•••

as soon as you opened the door you were met with an ecstatic tubbo who instantly pulled you into a hug unable to contain their excitement of seeing their friend

“I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN AGES YOUVE CHANGED SO MUCH LOOK AT YOUR HAIR”

“I look exactly the same”

“Now I’m no genius y/n but last time we spoke you didn’t have unnatural hair”

you paused for a moment as tubbo had a point the last time you and tubbo were on face time your hair was classed as a natural colour however today as a fuck you to your school which didn’t allow unnatural hair you decided to dye it your favourite colour.

“you raise a fair point now if you don’t mind releasing me from your grasp I have to lock the door so no one gets in”

•••

“Tommy unlock the door let tubbo and y/n in”

“Y/N YOU'RE HERE- HOLY SHIT YOUR HAIR! JACK ARE YOU SEEING THIS”

“Hello to you too Tommy”

“well if we weren’t going to get noticed at the shopping centre earlier y/ns bright fucking hair will definitely cause people to notice us”

“oh I’m sorry I didn’t expect to be going shopping with a bunch of Minecraft streamers today”

“don’t you stream Minecraft?”

“This isn’t about me jack”

the trip to the shops was surprisingly relaxing y/n sat at the front listening to jack sing along to songs playing on the radio, however, it was clear the boys had something they weren’t telling y/n which became evident through Tommy and tubbo bickering in the back of the car about who was going to tell them. it was a relatively short journey due to the fact you lived close to the city centre

•••

“let’s go shopping boys” Tommy practically yelled to everyone, tubbo held his phone in your direction then looked towards you, nodding at him you grabbed his phone and began recording

“I'm vlogging”

Tommy walked over “YEAHHHHH”

walking past cex you had to put up with Tommy making sex jokes until you made it to game, you stood holding back your laugh as you filmed Tommy and tubbo fighting about who’s paying whilst jack went off to buy a Minecraft squishy and mug despite everyone’s arguments against it. soon enough fans came over asking for photos with you all once the group of fans left jack took over recording for tubbo whilst you went off to quickly buy some games that you could play on stream.

•••

“want a wig bro? jack!”

the four of you walked into the shop, you couldn’t help but stand in awe looking at all the bright colours already questioning what colour to dye your hair next the sound of Tommy and jack being amazed pulled you out of your thoughts

“Gogy goggles, I’m actually buying them”

“i wan’t a pair”

“no, you’re getting a wig jack”

“I don’t want a wig I want George”

“y/n has bright hair and they’re not complaining”

“what do you have against people with colourful hair jack hmm?”

•••

“I'm not happy”

“you look lovely jack”

“we’re getting so many looks”

tubbo stopped everyone to ‘fix’ jacks wig which resulted in everyone laughing once you had finally stopped laughing you noticed tubbo had walked off and you were convinced jack had randomly decided to record strangers until you saw tubbo going up and down escalators

“oh there he goes again”

“pov you’re thinking about bees”

“where to next boys?”

Tommy pointed towards the lift

“Is this a lift for us”

Tommy noticed the safety sign and automatically made comments about it

“keeping us all safe is what I would say if I wasn’t carrying a knife”

“oh same Tommy”

“look you can see me”

taking that as an invitation to join the vlog you stood behind tubbo and pointed at the sign again and looked at Tommy and jack

“keeping us all safe is what I would say if we weren’t about to do this-“

the three of you went to jump up and down

“NO”

the four of you quietly left the lift however you were convinced that the public heard Tommy comment on having a knife and you threatening to jump as once the lift opened everyone was staring at you but it could also be due to the fact you had brightly coloured hair and somehow convinced jack to keep the wig on, you all spent a long time trying to convince Tommy to get a new outfit, eventually you went into another shop a certain keyboard caught your eye

“I’ve found my home, ill stay here at the gamer bunker”

you decided now was the perfect time to sneak off to buy the keyboard that had caught your eye, once tubbo noticed it was too late you stood holding the bag with your purchase leaving you stood in the middle of the shop defending your purchase to him claiming that it was a business expense and not just because you thought it looked cool.

“you told me you wanted to save your money”

“it lights up tubbo and it fits the vibe of my room”

Tommy placed his arm on your head treating you as an armrest as you were shorter than him and he knew it annoyed you

“they have a point tubbo it lights up”

once the recording ended you made your way back to the car

“say y/n you wouldn’t mind if me Tommy and jack stayed the night as tomorrow we were thinking-“

“sure thing”

“YESSSSSS”

•••

the next day you were woken up at 9 am by Tommy stood at the foot of your bed

“hi y/n”

“WHAT THE FUCK- oh hi Tommy Jesus christ do you know how horrifying that was to wake up to”

“Sorry bout that but if I didn’t wake you up now you’d only wake up in the afternoon and we need to go soon I’ll leave you to get ready”

you noticed a note was next to a jumper on the floor ‘hi, thanks for letting us stay the night I really liked your hoodie so I decided to wear it today here’s mine in exchange- Tubbo :D’

normally you’d be concerned that someone stole your hoodie as you live with your parents however today was an exception once you were all ready you set off jack pulled into a McDonald's drive-through so you could all get breakfast

“nice hoodie y/n”

“Thanks, someone took mine and decided to make a trade”

“you’re welcome”

the journey was quiet again you sat next to tubbo in the back Tommy sat at the front screaming at jack and trying to distract him and people around you decided to took a picture with tubbo who now had his arm wrapped around you as it was rather cold in the car and posted it to Twitter ‘@ ranboosaysstuff wish you were here :D’ less than a minute later you received 2 notifications ‘ranboosaysstuff replied to your tweet: same’ ‘ ranboosaysstuff has tweeted: *the spongebob gif*’

•••

soon enough you all arrived at mint golf to say you we’re excited would be an understatement

“can I get the shortest club you have”

you stood hiding your face in the jumper tubbo left you whilst you laughed a few minutes later you received a call from ranboo the others said they’d sort everything for you whilst you answered

“what’s up tall one”

“stay safe okay”

“ranboo it’s mini-golf I’m not fighting criminals”

“yes but I know how clumsy you are”

“first of all rude second of all fuck you third of all jealousy isn’t a good look on you” you managed to say through laughter

“jokes aside please come to the UK boo”

“oh sure I’ll go book a plane ticket now” *ranboo ended the call*

ranboo made jokes like that before however this time sounded a lot more serious and you had no idea why he called you so you made a mental note to call him again later. once with friends again you were met with Tommy telling the worker all about you all

“yeah we’re big on the influencing”

“What on earth did I walk in on”

“no time to explain let’s go golf”

you were handed a club and a ball and were dragged away by jack

•••

tubbo joked about getting a hole on one as soon as it was his go, you bet £10 with jack he wouldn't

“hand over the money y/n”

you looked at Tommy who was now recording you handing jack the money “so today we have learnt to not underestimate your friends and that gambling is bad. you lose your money to a tall bald guy”

to put it politely you and Tommy found out that mini golf is not your calling in life

“ill stick to streaming“

“you’re both losing by the way”

“yeah well- why and how does tubbo have soup”

tubbo stood cradling the soup as though it was a child

“Some things I can’t explain to you”

you stood tilting your head to the side questioning where the hell he got soup from

“eh”

“soups like a small child I take care of it as if it was my own”

you couldn’t contain your laughter at this point the confused faces of your friends alongside tubbos happiness of soup sent you over the edge so you decided to just sit down before you fall as your knees were already weak from laughing too much

“where did you get the soup from”

“I manifested it”

•••

after a few solid minutes of arguing over soup you and Tommy dropping the phone you all continued with bowling.

“tubbo get out of the way of my dream ball”

you stood recording jack cheering him on tubbo had different plans and kicked the ball away resulting in jack giving up and copying what you had been doing most of the rounds, after missing the hole 3 times each go, picking up the ball and placing it in the hole however again he missed

“you can’t be serious”

“golf isn’t for everyone big man”

Tommy took the phone from you to record “pov you’re me golfing”

•••

“how do we get across there”

“probably the bridge”

Tommy pulled to rope moving the bridge across the gap

“Why thank you, Tommy, wouldn’t have been able to do it without you”

you laughed

“you're extremely welcome y/n it was extremely easy because I’m a big muscly man”

golf was finally going well till you hit the ball a bit too hard causing it to go over the fence tubbo was able to get the ball back

“I’ve been watching a lot of doctor shows” you stood amazed at how far you made the ball go

“see the issue is its mini golf. if this was regular golf I'd have got a hole in one I'm telling you”

•••

“I'm never being in your vlog again”

jack looked at you and tubbo who was now laughing at you pretending to worship the can of soup in the hole

“Tommy please come back”

the rest of the game was chaos, you kept missing the hole then claiming to rage quit golf tubbo and Tommy kept making jokes jack left his drink somewhere then had to go back and find it, no one had been paying attention to you which allowed you to take the score sheet and make it so you had won the game eventually he game was over you had declared yourself the champion of golf despite the fact everyone was better than you including Tommy

•••

the journey back was chaos you called ranboo who claimed he only called you to plan a video/stream with you however it was clear that wasn’t the reason tubbo whispered to you so no one could hear

“I think he wants to be here with us I think he’s jealous”

you laughed and nodded

“of course”

eventually, you all made it back to yours, ranboo said goodbye to everyone then ended the call now it was time for you to say your goodbyes. since your love language was physical touch you hugged everyone. As you walked into your house Tommy yelled “Y/N HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT PLANES”

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moonlightmanifestation · 3 years

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Quick Summary:

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gothic-safari-clown · 4 years

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The Mind’s Power Over the Body

PART SEVEN: CONFESSION

Story Summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they’re reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they’ve both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan’s side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

Words count: 3235

Elianna, generally speaking, was extremely stubborn by nature. As such, the more people told her that she couldn’t do something, the more she resolved to do it. She had been like that for her entire life, and very rarely was she convinced to concede.

However, she no longer had any qualms about passing off the Zsasz case. The day before, she had been pretty insistent upon keeping Victor as a patient, but that had been before he had not only escaped what was supposed to be a very secure institution for the fourth time, but had also found out where she lived. Unless he had somehow already found out from whoever must have helped him after their first session. God, had he been planning that from the beginning? El thought back to what he had said when he had passed her and Jonathan in Arkham as he was being escorted back to his cell.

“Leave your door unlocked for me.”

She shivered at the memory. In hindsight, she couldn’t believe how stupid she had been to have still gone to her apartment after that. While she wasn’t unintelligent, it was true Jonathan had always been the smarter one. But, Jesus, that was the worst thing for her to have done in that situation. I guess I’ll blame that on being stubborn too.

She pondered all of this, still in bed next to a restfully sleeping Jonathan, hours before she even needed to be awake. After sleeping for only a few an hour or two herself, she had woken herself out of a nightmare and had been unable to fall back asleep despite how tired she felt. It seemed that all of her sleep lately had been cursed by restlessness.

Suddenly, she was struck by the memory of the strange, shadowy figure that had saved her life in the parking lot. What was that thing? It had been man-sized and shaped, but she clearly saw pointed ears on top of the head in her memory. Even after being in Gotham for such a short period of time, El was acutely aware of the masked criminals that ran the streets. Still, in her tired haze and confusion surrounding the whole situation, she couldn’t recall having heard of a man dressed as a…a dog? Some kind of bat, maybe? Either way, it seemed a very poorly made costume.

The fact that whoever it was had attacked Zsasz was somewhat comforting, she supposed. But the question remained, was this person malevolent and just happened to have a personal vendetta against Zsasz, or was he some sort of vigilante that no one had heard of yet? Assuming this is a new development, I imagine we’ll find out over the coming months.

In the meantime, El was plagued by the feeling that she was being watched, despite being several stories high in a relatively safe part of the city, not that anywhere in Gotham could truly be considered safe.

Despite the knowledge that nobody could be watching, she shifted closer to Jonathan and cast a wary look around the room to identify the source of her discomfort, finally deciding that there was something about the window that made her uneasy. It seemed too dark outside, given that they were in a large city, but she knew better than to get up to close the curtains. She had seen enough horror movies to know that when she did, there would be a face pressed against the glass, watching her sleeplessness.

The image in her head of a person waiting on the ledge outside, waiting for her to fall back asleep scared her, even though she knew it was impossible. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself not to think about it. It’s amazing the things almost being murdered will do to your brain.

Jonathan shifted in his sleep suddenly, effectively taking her mind off things for a few seconds. She could tell that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the previous few nights (she blamed Scarecrow) and made an effort hold still, hoping that she hadn’t woken him up. After a few seconds, he settled back into his pillow. She sighed and allowed herself to relax as well. I should try to get back to sleep before work. She would be damned if she had to stay home, even after everything that had happened. She needed the people she worked with to take her seriously. Going about a normal routine after almost dying twice seemed a good way to establish rank. Maybe stubborn and stupid, but what was the worst that could happen at that point?

All things considered, she felt surprisingly stable for someone who had had three near-death experiences in the past few years. Maybe there was something wrong with her that just hadn’t manifested yet? Thinking about that possibility, she wouldn’t be surprised. It might explain how she was finally on the verge of falling back asleep.

Eventually, her exhaustion got the better of her. Jonathan’s building had much better security than hers; surely, she would be fine to sleep those last few hours away…

.xXx.

Four hours later, El’s phone alarm sounded, blaringly loud in the previously silent room, and she scrambled to turn it off while Jonathan rolled onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow.

“Why do you wake up so early?” His voice was muffled.

“It takes longer for me to get ready than you. It’s nothing new. Go back to sleep.” El yawned and patted the back of his head before standing up, stretching and cracking her back.

He seemed to take her advice, and his breathing evened out again as she retrieved her duffle bag from the living room and headed to the bathroom to get ready for work. She had just finished washing her face and brushing her teeth and was starting in on her makeup when Jonathan walked in, looking tired.

“I’m awake now.” He yawned as he leaned back against the counter next to her and rubbed his hand down his face.

“I can see that. I’m sorry,” El replied genuinely—if a bit distracted by her foundation.

“It’s fine; I was starting to dream about Granny again,” he dismissed; El nodded and continued her routine as he watched.

“Can I help you?” She asked, slightly perturbed by the attention. He shrugged.

“There’s nothing better to do at the moment. Besides, I want to find out how it’s possible that you actually use all those brushes every day. It seems like overkill.”

“They’re all good for different things, now hush,” El mumbled in response, trying not to let him distract her from her eyeliner. “You know, if you talked to more women, you might be able to see them put on their makeup, and maybe even naked sometimes.” Now she was actively trying to get him to leave her alone; it was far too early not to be annoying about it, though. Sometimes she just couldn’t resist embarrassing him.

“Don’t give Scarecrow any ideas this early in the morning, or he’s going to think about you like that all day, and I have to hear it,” Jonathan said in mild disgust and shut his eyes in exasperation.

“Ooh, gross. Really?”

“Yeah. Breakfast?”

“No, thanks, love.”

“You should eat.”

“I should, but I’m not hungry, and you’re distracting me. Thank you, though,” she replied more forcefully. He shrugged again and meandered toward the kitchen. “Tell him to behave!” She called after him.

No longer distracted, El finished up and picked an outfit for the day, getting dressed quickly and walked out to the kitchen where Jonathan had already dressed and was making his way through a bagel while glancing over the newspaper. “They didn’t know your name. Would you mind if I started calling you ‘lucky woman?’”

“Sure! Would you mind if I start 'giving Scarecrow ideas’ every morning?”

“Still not a morning person, I see.”

“Nope.” El stole a quick sip of his coffee before grabbing her purse. “Carpool?”

Jonathan agreed, finished his bagel and coffee, and they walked to his car. In a few minutes were on the road sharing comfortable silence. El found herself reminded once again of the stranger that had saved her the night before. She decided to ask Jonathan about it; maybe he’ll know more than I do.

Then again, what if he thought she was crazy? A man dressed up like…oh, who could tell? What if it had been an adrenaline-fuelled hallucination? Jonathan wouldn’t turn her in, would he?

Of course not. The personality with whom he shared a mind was violent and murderous and had convinced him to kill his great grandmother—although, the old crone had it coming. Where the hell did that thought come from? That’s a horrible thing to think.

Either way, compared to that, seeing a man dressed as a…as something while fighting crime seemed perfectly sane, especially in Gotham. Not to mention the fact that whoever it was had definitely tackled Zsasz. It had to be real, or she wouldn’t be sitting there in the car.

“Jonathan?”

“Mm?” He responded right as they pulled up to Arkham. Damn, she had thought for too long; she didn’t feel comfortable talking about this where other people might hear. Jonathan might not think she was crazy, but someone else might.

“Remind me to talk to you about something later,” she conceded with a sigh and waited for him to park so that she could get out of the car. He caught up to her a second later.

“Why not now?”

“Because you already know I’m not crazy.” He looked at her pointedly but didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Do I?”

“Oh, shut up,” she smiled and elbowed him gently as they walked inside. Jonathan allowed himself a soft smile.

“I have to stop by my office for a minute, but then I’ll meet back up with you in your office before your first appointment. I have to talk to you about something.” El nodded.

“See you in a few minutes, love.” She walked herself to her office, stupidly worried now that she was alone. She knew that she relatively safe with security everywhere, but even so, she pulled on the door after it closed to ensure that it was locked. Paranoid. Zsasz wasn’t even there. She had seen in Jonathan’s newspaper in the kitchen that Victor was facing trial that day.

Not to mention whatever it was that Jonathan had to talk to her about. Knowing him, El didn’t even want to try to guess what that discussion would be like.

She killed a few minutes organizing paperwork that she had allowed to pile up, realizing that she would need to stay late to file that night and reviewing her schedule. Her first session wasn’t for a few hours yet, which gave her time to stave off the fear that another of her patients would attack her. I just got off to a bad start. A really, really, really, really bad start.

A knock on the door made her jump and then roll her eyes at herself. “Who is it?” Seriously? Nobody that would knock wants to kill you, El.

“Three guesses who.” Came Jonathan’s response, and she pressed the button to open the door for him. “I’m gonna have to stay a bit late tonight.” He informed her as he walked in.

“That’s alright, me too.”

“Well, that works out.” He sighed, pausing in the middle of the room for a moment. “I also need to leave for a while right now, but first, there’s a lot that I need to explain to you, and it can’t wait, so I need you to listen.” What?

“O-okay.” She nodded slowly. “What’s up?” She leaned back in her seat as Jonathan came around and leaned back against the desk in front of her, setting his briefcase next to him.

“Alright, there really isn’t a good way to ease you into this given the time crunch, so I’m just going to tell you all at once, okay?” Still confused, El nodded again. “First of all, I’ve been conducting experiments on patients here, research not sanctioned by the asylum.” He paused for a beat, giving her a chance to think about the confession. “A while ago, I perfected a recipe for what I call a 'fear toxin.’ In short, it causes the subject to hallucinate whatever they fear most, which allows me to study the effect of fear on the human mind.”

“What the fuck?” The question escaped El quietly as she closed her eyes in an attempt to help herself process the information that her friend was offering up out of the blue.

“I know, but I’m not finished yet, okay? Stay with me.” El found herself nodding on reflex. “The key ingredient that I need for each version comes in from overseas, it’s shipped here, and I’ve been working with Carmine Falcone, the mob boss, to bring it in.”

“Wh-what does this have to do with me? Why are you telling me this?” El asked in a panic, shaking her head, her eyes still shut. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing or how easily Jonathan said it. He was lucky that the security system was video only, no audio. Or maybe she was unlucky; it all depended on what his motivations were for sharing this information.

“Because Zsasz used to work for Falcone, but Falcone won’t risk Zsasz going to prison and leaking the secrets of the organization; as long as he’s here, regulations dictate that he has to be kept relatively comfortable and isolated, so he has no reason to leak information. I’m going right now to testify on his mental state so that he gets admitted back here.”

“Stop-stop talking for a second, hold on.” Elianna lifted a hand and tried her best to control her breathing. Jonathan did as she asked and waited while she began to gather her thoughts. “Just please, please tell me that you aren’t the one who’s been helping him escape.” She demanded quietly, finally opening her eyes but staring at the carpet. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him until she knew that he wasn’t the one to put her life in danger. She had never before felt unsafe around Jonathan. Scarecrow, yes, but never Jonathan, but this sudden dump of information had her suddenly questioning everything that she knew.

She should never have come back to the east coast. She should have stayed bored in California and just contented herself with their long-distance friendship.

Jonathan lifted off the desk and crouched down in front of her, making her look at him, however reluctantly. “Listen to me, El; I know that I’ve done a lot of horrible things, okay? I can admit that. But one thing that I could never do is put you in danger on purpose.” In a calm voice, he spoke slowly, and against her better judgment, Elianna found herself believing him. She nodded.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Alright, I trust you, but I still don’t understand why you’re telling me any of this.” Her mind was still racing to make sense of anything that he had said in the last few minutes, although she began to realize that she shouldn’t really have been surprised. From the second that she had found out about Scarecrow, El had known that there was something—someone inside him that was more than capable of horrific things.

She found herself wondering, not for the first time, how Jonathan would have ended up if Scarecrow had never come along. Granny Keeny should have been the only warning that she needed to stay away from Jonathan, starting years ago.

Then again, if she had managed to look past and even help him cover-up the “accident,” the strange circumstances of the old woman’s death (or so they had passed it off), then she could find a way to look past this. There had to have been a reason he was telling her any of this, besides making her an accomplice. There needed to be.

“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

“If I’m going to get Zsasz back here anyway, then I can get him transferred to my caseload, which puts us in the perfect position to make him regret coming after you.”

“Whoa, hold on,” El lifted her hand again to interrupt him. She almost felt bad for interjecting so often, each time having to remind herself that she wasn’t in the wrong this time. “I’m assuming that you mean you would use this 'fear toxin’ on him? In which case, he could have a full metal break, and then they would have to investigate you, so won’t they be able to trace it back to us?” Jonathan shook his head.

“They won’t find anything. I already have it all figured out. It’s an original formula, if they examine him, they may find severely elevated stress levels, but unfortunately, that kind of break happens to people all the time in here; as long as he’s alive, anyone looking into Zsasz won’t bother to test for any externally administered chemicals.”

“I-” El found herself at a loss for words by how quickly Jonathan had worked this out. “F-fine, just…give me another minute.” She stood from her office chair and began to pace, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, trapped in by the sudden wave of disturbing new information.

She couldn’t deny that the thought of mercilessly dealing revenge upon the man who thought that he could get away with killing her sounded incredibly satisfying. It was a natural desire to exact one’s pound of flesh, and even before her involvement Victor Zsasz was a murderer. A deranged serial killer that had killed how many women before she had even thought of moving to Gotham?

Elianna began to realize that she could remain in denial about what had happened to her for as long as she wanted, but she would never feel truly safe again until something was done about him.

She knew it was technically wrong, but she wanted Victor Zsasz to feel the terror that she did when she pictured his face—Lovecraftian, skeletal, bathed in yellow light—and if Jonathan’s toxin could do the job, then she wanted to do it.

Before her logical mind had time to talk her out of her resolve, she stopped pacing and looked at Jonathan. He looked back expectantly, sitting on the edge of her desk again. With an air of finality, she nodded. “Let’s do it.”

“Good.” He checked his watch and stood, taking his briefcase. “I need to leave now, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Just go about your day like normal, and we can talk semantics tonight.” El nodded in response in a stupor over everything that had happened in only two short days. She wasn’t even aware enough to be surprised when Jonathan kissed her head as he left her office, instead returning trance-like to her seat and wondering just the wrong side of too late, did I make the right decision?

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #slight au #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #attraction to the insane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 7

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wonder-boy · 4 years

Text

Trapped

For @malclombright; From Prompt 65: “Look at me—just breathe, okay?”

“Mother?”

The Milton estate is quiet. There’s no sign of their house staff so Malcolm assumes his mother sent most of them home. She isn’t answering his calls. He takes another look through the rooms but finds nothing - no movement, no signs of life drifting through.

It’s unusually empty and the feeling in his gut tells him something is amiss.

He walks up the stairs and heads down the hallway to see his old bedroom. The door creaks on the hinges when it opens and he leans in to flip the switch by the frame. His room lit up in blues, everything left untouched, still in its place as if he never left. He smiles as the nostalgia floods in, picking up some of his favorite books off the shelf, going through the drawers, reminiscing on the better days.

He moves away from his desk to stand by his bed. He runs his fingertips on the soft sheets and thinks back to all of the bed time stories, the forts he made with Ainsley, and the feeling of his mother tucking him in at night.

Of course, he can’t forget the moment when things stopped making sense. When there were lapses in his memory but at the time, he didn’t understand why. Or why his father spent more time downstairs, working well into the night on a secret project the world wasn’t ready for.

The thoughts drive Malcolm away from his bed back to the hallway and down the stairs towards his father’s playroom.

After Watkins, Jessica boarded up his study again as well as the crack in the wall that led to the hidden basement. Even though he’s been down here before, anxiety always lingers in the back of his mind every time he walks down the steps.

The hall is empty. His mother’s storage is gone. Everything except the chest.

Malcolm’s heart sinks to his stomach. It sits at the end of the hall, untouched, still in its place as if he never left. As if he never got caught. He looks around the room, wondering if it was some cruel joke but no one pops out from the corners. He slowly walks toward it with caution, fixed on the unlocked latch that pulls him forward. His breathing fills up the room but he’s not aware of it.

He hears a faint cry emerge from the box that stops him dead in his tracks. His heart pounds in his chest when he hears her - Sophie - the case he’s certain he’s already solved the minute Eve walked out of his life. Something’s wrong. Malcolm starts to back away in a panic, stepping away from her despite her desperate pleas for help. He knows how this ends.

The second his back touches a wall, his right arm is twisted behind his back and a gag crushes his face, cutting off his air supply. Something's definitely wrong.

His muffled screams fall on deaf ears, frantically kicking in the arms of someone much bigger, stronger, holding him there. Malcolm tries to hold his breath until he can get some leverage but he trips and sputters, inhaling the sweet smell that brings back memories of his fath–

“Stop fighting, my boy,”

He whimpers in fear against his hand, the edges of his vision already blurring. “That’s it, Malcolm,” his father coos in his ear as his body gradually goes slack in his arms, no fight left in him. His adrenaline starts to fade as his eyes close and his head lulls to the side. Before everything goes black, Malcolm catches his haunting last words.

“Time to finish what I started.”

Malcolm wakes up screeching, his heart hammering, and his breath coming out in painful hitches. He can’t breathe. The sweet smell of the gag makes him dizzy and nauseous but immediately swallows the bile with a grimace. The heart monitor sounds off like an alarm, and Jessica runs to his bedside, gently laying her hand on his clenched fists.

“There, there, Malcolm, it was just a dream,” she soothes, “you’re safe. You’re safe with me.” His eyes land on hers like a deer caught in headlights, not entirely sure of what he’s seeing. He looks around the room then down in his lap; he’s in a hospital. His shoulders slack as he tries to work on his breathing but the residual fear keeps his heart from slowing down.

“What is this...” he pants. Jessica frowns, “You’re in the hospital, dear, don’t you remember? You were shot on a case and - oh, god.” Her eyes drift to his stomach in horror at the dark red patch seeping through his gown. “What–” She’s up on her feet, pressing the nurse call button and running to the door, swinging it open and calling for someone to help her son.

As if on cue, a handful of nurses flood his room.

Their hands are everywhere, startling Malcolm into a frenzy, undoing the work he’s done to get himself to calm down. “No, stop,” he mumbles but no one listens. The heart monitor sounds off again as he pushes a couple of the nurses who try to prod his wound to get a better look.

“Someone hold him down,” says a voice behind him, and sure enough, an arm reaches across his chest to lay him back down. When his arms are restricted, the faint sweet smell clouds his senses again and Malcolm starts to thrash in fear.

“I can’t get a good look if he’s moving,”

“His BP is rising,”

“He’s been cleared for Midazolam,”

He writhes around in bed, not bothered by the shooting pain in his side or his mother’s attempts to get his attention. “No - stop - get off me!” Two pairs of hands hold his wrists down and rest the other hand on his chest with enough pressure to stifle his movements.

“I’m fine, I swear. Please, just let me go!” He cries out, face scrunched in agony. His flailing gets him nowhere but he doesn’t slow down, straining his muscles to pull himself free.

Jessica nods and mumbles something to one of the nurses. She moves to his bedside with a sympathetic smile and a worried look on her face as she tries to run a hand through his unkempt hair. “Malcolm, I need you to stop moving, sweetie.” Her voice is eerily calm, almost as if she knew something he didn’t.

“What’s happening? Tell them to release me, mother.” She reaches to caress his face, her expression crumbling as the nurse walks behind her to his other side with something clear in her hand. “They have to put you under, Malcolm, so they can fix you. They can’t do that if you keep moving, dear.”

Before he could respond, something sharp pricks his right arm and his head whips around just as it leaves his skin.

“No...” he whispers.

A sedative.

“No. No no no - mother, you can’t do this, you can’t,” he mumbles, panic quickly swelling inside him. His breath becomes shallow in quick fearful gasps, hitching as his body starts to shake. Tears well up in his eyes and his lip quivers. Malcolm starts to hyperventilate as he vigorously shakes his head, trying to reach out to Jessica for help but the nurses won’t let him go.

“Mom...mom, please don’t,” he chokes on a sob between breaths, “don’t send me back there, please. Please don’t send me back to him,” he panicked breathing became loud and ragged as he cried harder, delirious as the drug worked through his bloodstream.

She felt absolutely horrible. Jessica felt helpless when she saw how scared he was; she felt even guiltier knowing she’s the one who even made the call. The sheer terror in his eyes brought her back to a time where the night terrors manifested, and tore through him until he was sobbing in her arms in the middle of the night.

She ached to hold him now. To wipe the tears from his face, to tell him everything’s going to be alright; she couldn’t do that now. She had to sit and watch her son suffer at the mercy of his own mind. The hurt in her heart makes her reach out anyways, her instinct to try and comfort him as much as she could.

“Look at me, Malcolm,” she gently held his face between her palms. “Look at me—just breathe, okay? Everything’s going to be fine, my love.”

He tried to shake his head but it kept swaying. “He’s going to kill me,” he whimpers, forcing himself to look at her dead in the eyes, “and it’s all your fault.”

Her smile fades. Malcolm’s eyes flutter open, trying to fight the effects taking over but it’s no use. His brows knit together in anger, then dissipate into something resembling fear when his vision starts to go black and his body finally relaxes against the hands of the nurses watching him.

They start talking among themselves as they figure out how to manage the bleeding. Jessica tunes them out. His words don’t sit right with her; the pain in his voice was unnerving. She knew where his hurt came from. He felt betrayed.

Once again, she failed to protect him.

So, when he came to, Martin is there, smiling from ear to ear with the biggest predatory grin on his face.

“Now, where were we?”

#happy prodigal monday!#i leave you with this #prodigal son #ps fics #prompt #malcolm bright #jessica whitly #martin whitly #i hate his ass so much #also if you wanna leave some prompts pls do!#adding the read more bc this is kinda long #my fic

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

Out Of This World - Carol Danvers

Anonymous said:

Hello, woaaa I just read your Carols Danvers/Reader fic and it was amazing. I see that you have requests open, so can I ask for a fic of Carol being the shy one with the reader? Thank you!

AN: I’m glad you liked the imagine! I hope you like this one too! Sorry for the wait!

Having trained and lived on Hala, the Kree home planet, for a majority of her known life, Vers had been surrounded by powerful individuals. Minerva and Yon-Rogg were the ones she remembered the best; both were agile, strong, and hardheaded. So those were the traits that she admired in others. Even when Vers became Carol, finding herself on Earth, those qualities still remained the most admirable. Something Carol didn’t realize however, was how differently those traits could manifest in other life forms.

“This is Agent L/N, by the way,” Nick said, gesturing to where you sat in the driver's seat. You catch Carol’s eye immediately, not needing Nick’s hands to lead her to your beauty. “The best driver Shield’s got!”

“The fastest driver, Fury,” you correct, peering in the rear-view mirror to spare a glance at the alien in your backseat. She looked human; pretty with brown eyes that met yours for a split second before glancing out the window.

“There’s a difference?” Nick asked through a boisterous chuckle. You snickered, shaking your head before glancing in the rear-view again. Her blonde hair glinted in the sunlight that spread its rays across her face as you drove. Before she caught you staring, you peeled behind the car to find the other aliens that were hot on your tails.

“Best implies a strong survival rate,” you teased, smiling when you heard Carol gasp in the back seat. You grinned at her in the mirror, giving her a wink. “Fast gets you where you want to go.”

“Don’t kill us,” Carol snapped, but you didn’t miss the blush that rose to her cheeks. You laughed again, slamming your foot on the gas to speed away from the secluded base the eclectic pair had trashed. At the sudden burst of force, Carol spun her eyes back to the front seat. Nick hooted and hollered as you drove down the horribly paved road.

Soon enough, when the Skrulls were out of sight, you were cheering too. Carol had never seen such a wonderful smile. Especially not on Hala, where smiles outside of a sparring match victory seemed to go to die. You turned your head suddenly, that grin still on your lips as you caught her eyes. Carol flushed once more, barely holding your gaze. She couldn’t place the foreign feeling growing in her gut as it spread to her chest.

“Where to, darling?” You ask, laying on a thick drawl as a joke. However, the reaction it brings out of Carol makes you wish you did with purpose. Her skin turned a shade of pink that softened her hard expression. You chuckled to yourself and Nick rolled his eyes.

“I have an address of a lead,” Carol said after a few moments, “the home of Maria Rambeau.” She passed a file to Nick who flipped through the papers. He read out the address and you mentally mapped the route in your mind, with the help of a map.

“Sounds like a road trip,” you teased, glancing at Carol in the mirror one last time. She was looking out the window at the landscape that raced by. She was smiling though and it seemed like the stars turned into galaxies in her eyes.

The hotel was dingey to say the least. Dust covered the room you entered, Carol and Nick on your heels as you unlocked the door. The action kicked up the dirt so specks of it floated in the air like untethered balloons. Nick squeezed, rubbing his nose as he flopped down on the bed. He started taking off his watch as he claimed the stiff mattress as he own.

“There’s only two beds,” Carol observed, squinting at Nick whose eyes were already starting to close.

“Mhm,” he mumbled, “so?” You glanced around the room in search for a comfortable solution but found only a desk chair. With a smile on your face, you turned to Carol.

“Guess we’re sharing. If that’s alright with you?” She briefly held your eyes, but soon torn her gaze away in a panic. You saw how hard she swallowed, her throat gliding beneath the skin on her neck. If she were a human, you would assume she was nervous; however, Carol was an alien and you had no idea how her biology worked.

“F-Fine.” Carol shed her jacket, throwing it over the back of the desk chair with an almost childlike disdain. She soon followed suit, flopping down on the worn cushion. Nick sighed loudly, rolling over on his side to rest. Carol rolled her eyes at the sight before adding, “we leave at first light.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” Nick grumbled before settling further into the uncomfortable bed. You grinned at your friend’s sassy exhaustion before your sent your gaze Carol’s way. She fiddled with the rips in her jeans, pulling at loose threads to occupy her mind.

“You alright?” You sat yourself on the edge of the bed so you could be on her level. Carol didn’t turn in the desk chair, her eyes still trained on her jeans.

“There’s an invasion force on your planet,” she said, turning in her chair to face you now, “I should be asking you if you’re alright.”

“You’re the one who’s out of this world,” you teased, the words falling off your tongue with an ease that Carol had never experienced before. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so flirty, but you couldn’t deny how you loved Carol’s blush. The woman fell silent, mulling over you words as you began to prepare for bed. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the hotel room window as you closed the curtains. Carol was still sitting in the desk chair as you settled under the covers.

You debated whether to say something more, maybe even apologize, but a wave of tiredness washed over you. As you sank into the mattress, Carol glanced over at you. With your eyes closed a few moments, she was able to take in the softer sight of you. You had been witty and confident on the drive to the hotel. Now, snuggled up in the duvet, Carol wondered why you held such power over her. You yawned suddenly, prompting the woman to tear her eyes away.

“Night, lady,” you said, curling up on your side of the bed. Your feet were nearly dangling off of the side of the bed as you wanted to be sure Carol would have enough room. With eyes closed, you could only listen as Carol shuffled around the room. Soon enough you heard the clicking of the lamp as the light shut off. The bed dipped as Carol laid beside you and you could feel the heat of her body near yours.

“Night, Y/N.” Her voice is gentle when it reaches your ear, just light enough where it doesn’t stop you from drifting into the haze of sleep. In your dreams, her words echo from disembodied lips. The sight would be alarming, but with her voice, the open mouth could swallow you whole without you shedding a hint of fear. You find that, with Carol by your side, you get the best rest you had had in months. Shield’s work hours had been picking up, so any respite was pleasant. Even more so with her by your side.

When you started to stir from sleep, you felt warm. In your groggy state of mind you imagined Nick waking up in the middle of the night to turn on the heat. He always complained about how cold his feet would get when he sleeps. However, as you peeled open your eyes, you found that the warmth was not emanating from the heater at all.

One of Carol’s arms had snaked around your waist as you slept, with one of her legs hooked around your own. The pointed features of her face were pressed into your upper arm, the light breaths passing over her lips tickling the skin there. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was strange, alien in all senses of the word, yet you could not quell her allure. There was just something about her.

“Ya know, we had a rule with fraternizing with the enemy,” Nick said suddenly, drawing your attention to where he stood with a mug of crappy coffee in his hands.

“You still don’t trust her?”

“I trust her,” he clarified, “but with her powers, she could bring a lot of danger to our world. She already has”

“That’s not her fault,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice down for Carol’s sake. What you didn’t know was that she was hearing every word. The Kree had a habit of light sleeping, always on the lookout for danger. So she heard how you defended her with a stubbornness that rivaled Fury’s with a passion. Yet another thing she had to admire about you.

“I’m not saying it is,” Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “we just need to be careful around her. Make sure she doesn’t go in over her head.”

“I think she can handle herself,” you snapped, a bit more loudly than you had intended. It was then Carol opened her eyes, ready to thank you for defending her, but then she realized how close you were. Or, actually, how close she was to you. Swiftly, to hide her embarrassment, Carol pulled her limbs from your body and leaped from the bed. You yelped, nearly tumbling off of the mattress as Carol zipped away from you.

“Whoa!” Nick exclaimed, “easy now, tiger. You want to get going, yeah?” Carol didn’t turn to face either of you as she grabbed her jacket from her chair.

“Yes,” she grumbled, throwing the leather covering over her shoulders. She glanced over at you as she opened the door to the hotel room. Her eyes were bright with emotion, something raw you had not seen in her gaze before. “The sooner the better.”

With that, Carol marched out the door and left you speechless. “You always did go after the hard headed ones,” Nick sighed before abandoning his tasteless cup of coffee. “We’ll be by the car.”

Nick soon followed Carol outside, leaving you alone to get ready for the day. You grumbled as you pulled yourself from bed. Parts of your body were still aflame from Carol’s touch, tingling with the memory of the contact. She was fiery and, despite only knowing her for such a short amount of time, she had branded some part of you that was felt long untouched. You only hoped she wouldn’t burn you like the others.

“You’re really talented,” you praised Monica as her tiny hands lifted the colored pencil from the paper. Her sparkling, chocolate brown eyes peered up at you with a equally as bright, toothy grin.

“You think so?” She asked in awe, studying your features for any sign of fallacy. Smiling, you sat in the empty seat beside her, picking up the piece of art she had worked on. It was of Carol, decked out in her strang suit with the leather jacket over it. For a younger girl, Monica was great at art. Some of her earlier drawings decorated the Rambeau home where they could be admired by humans and alien visitors alike.

“Think so?! I know so,” you assured as you ruffled her curls. “Don’t I look like an art critic? I swear I am, or was in a past life.” Monica giggled at your words before getting back to work. Pleased you had calmed her curiosity for the time being, you peered down the hall. Maria and Nick were watching intently as Carol fired more questions at the new green addition. Talos, the Skrull under interrogation, seemed somber as he replied. Their voices were much too hushed for you to pick up on anything.

Instead of prying, you turned back to Monica and watched her draw. She was busy at work, the colored lead scratching along the surface of the construction paper as she sketched an outline of a new human figure. Soon enough, the features beared a resemblance to you. You smiled as her small hands began another figure, more slim with long blonde hair. Carol.

“You two make a good team,” she said, never once looking up from her drawing. “Like, you two are gonna save the world!”

“Well, I think Carol is going to do most of the heavy lifting,” you remarked, “I’m just a driver.”

“A good one, to boot. You’re needed here, Y/N.” You turned in your seat at the sound of Carol’s voice. Her brown eyes were trained on you, a loose smile on her lips. Ever since she had listened to the tape and found her own truth, something within her had shifted. You could see that change plainly now in her renewed confidence. It made you flush.

“Any plan yet?” You asked, hoping to distract from your burning cheeks. Monica went back to her drawing and Carol nodded in response.

“Yeah, come outside and I’ll explain.” You nodded and turned to Monica to pat her shoulder. She smiled up at you, curls bouncing as she spun her head to peer up at you.

“I’ll give this to you when it’s done,” she beamed and you sent her a wink before following Carol outside to the Rambeau’s porch. The sun was sunsetting as you stood on the creaking panels of wood. Carol watched the sky with arms crossed over her chest in thought. She looked stoic and absolutely fearless now as you came up beside her.

“So what’s the pla-”

“Kree are merciless warriors who, mostly through genetic manipulation, have pushed their emotions to the back parts of their minds. They’re a distraction really. That belief was reinforced with my training, but it never really stuck.” Carol now turned her eyes to hold your gaze. Despite her dark reflection, her eyes were soft.

“I mean, you are stubborn,” you let out a nervous chuckle, hoping to relieve some of the tightness in your chest as Carol stare at you. She chuckled and nodded, eyes not leaving you.

“Since coming her, learning that I’m human, I realized why. I have felt every emotion, in spite of the Kree’s teachings. At least I thought I had, until I met you.” You raised an eyebrow and Carol continued. “Whenever you would look at me I would feel….nauseous, but in a good way. Like I want to be around you but I was scared that something might push you away. I asked Fury about it and-”

“You asked Fury?” Your question brought a blush to Carol’s cheeks and she nodded shyly. You laughed and shook your head as you knew that he would use this against you in some fashion.

“He told me that I liked you, but I knew that already, so he told me that I was nervous around you because I liked you. I’ve never been nervous before, Y/N.” The way she said your name pulled your eyes to hers and you felt yourself leaning closer.

“They’re nothing wrong with feeling that way,” you breathed, hoping to give her some comfort. Carol nodded, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she did. Her eyes glanced away from yours to gaze at your lips, but made their way back up again.

“I don’t want to feel that around you,” she whispered, “I want to feel good around you.”

“I can help with that,” you said, a teasing smile playing on your lips. You lifted a tentative hand to Carol’s cheek, her skin warm underneath your fingertips. It was like she was a living furnace. Your other hand tugged at her waist, pulling her close until your lips were brushing over hers. “Are you sure you want to feel this?”

Carol’s breath hitched when your lips brushed against hers, her hands gripping your arms now. “Yes,” she keened, “more than sure.” With that, you leaned forwards and captured her lips in a soft kiss. Your fingers worked into the light tresses of her hair, getting lost in the waves of silkiness. You didn’t mind the feeling of getting lost in Carol’s touch. In fact, you were more than happy about it. Pecking her lips one last time, you pulled away and smiled when you saw her eyes were still closed.

“You are out of this world,” you wondered, brushing some of her hand behind her ear. Carol smiled then, opened her eyes to hold your gaze. Stars seemed to dance in her eyes as she watched you. With a sudden gush of bravery, Carol leaned forwards and pressed her lips to yours once more. It felt as if the cosmos in her eyes poured out of her lips and filled you with the light grace of outer space. A feeling you would not soon forget.

#carol danvers #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fanfiction #carol danvers fanfic #captain marvel #captain marvel imagine #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel fanfic #captain marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #nick fury #SHIELD

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justreadingfics · 6 years

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Looking For a Heartbeat (Part 1/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. Now, it’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, mention to painful break-ups, nightmares.

A/N: I’m ignoring Infinity War and other canon stuff here. I promised myself I would only start posting a series again when I had at least great part of the chapters ready. This isn’t what’s happening, I warn you. The idea came from this anon request which has been waiting on my ask box since forever: Do you still do requests? I really want a story where the reader has F.R.I.D.A.Y. wake her up whenever Bucky has nightmares so she can calm him down and Steve finds out. I’m sorry, dear, for taking so long. I hope you like the outcome. Two Ghosts by Harry Styles is an inspiration for the entire series. @lesqui Ily.

Please, let me know what you think.

Part1/ Part 2

Masterlist

“But… How long will you be out?” You fidget with your fingers on the table, before grabbing the cup of coffee and taking it to your lips to try and conceal your uneasiness.

“ I'm leaving in a few hours and it'll be two or three days, tops.” Steve answers with a shrug, “Easy peazy,” He smiles, chewing the impressive amount of pancakes he has just filled his mouth with.

“If it´s so easy, why do you have to go?” You place your cup of coffee on the table again, with a little more force than necessary and his brows furrow at the act, which you deliberately ignore to continue questioning the man in front of you, “You can send anyone of us, instead. I can go, why don’t you send me?”

“Well, the fact I consider it easy, doesn´t mean it is to other people.” There´s not a trace of arrogance in his tone, only honesty and even a little bit of humility only Steve Rogers can pull off, which makes you sigh in defeat. “Besides, you’ve been here for what? One week after over two years away and already wanna leave again? What’s this really about, Y/n?” He points and shakes his fork at you, frowning questioningly.

“What, I can’t be worried about my workaholic and overloaded Captain, who deserves a break every once in a while?” You lie, grabbing some pancake from his plate with your own fork, hoping stealing his food would divert his focus.

He looks nothing but unconvinced, eyeing you suspiciously, “Not when I´m talking to the most workaholic person alive, and-" before he could inquiry you further, you hear the door, catching his attention as well as he looks past your shoulder. You hold your breath upon the voice you hear.

“Hey, Punk, you're still here-” You don’t dare to turn around, but can picture the discomfort taking over his expression on finding you there, too.

At the silence that follows his entrance, you glance at Steve, returning his apologetic look with a sad smile, before the chair scratches against the floor with you standing up, “Stay safe, Steve.” You dismiss taking your dishes to the sink in favor of leaving the scene as soon as you can.

Bucky steps aside for you to pass through the opened door, answering your mumbled good morning with a slight nod, none of you daring to exchange glances. The door swings behind you as you force a steady pace to get to you have no idea where.

It’s been like this ever since your return. Awkward, uncomfortable, silent, painful…You thought two years would make it better, would erase everything which had devastated your life together, or the life you thought you had together and you could, at least, have some cordial or even a friendly relationship. But it hasn’t been that way, there is still the same, if not more, sorrow, anger, resentment. It is all there, growing with each day, refusing to let go, consuming you, building a thick barrier between you both, leading your mind to replay over and over that dreadful day two years ago.

But all of this isn’t enough to make you not worry about him, apparently. Because as soon as Steve mentioned he had a solo mission coming up, your thoughts ran to your ex-boyfriend. Who would be there for him when the nightmares arrived?

You knew they were back, you saw this often on the rapid glances you dared to steal in this last week, glimpsing the dark circles deepening his still devastatingly gorgeous blue eyes. They had stopped, when you were the one to spend the nights with him, calming him down, running a soothing hand over his trembling chest, whispering sweet nothings on his ear. They would go away, until, towards the end, they stopped entirely.

The end…

Your feet end up driving you to your new room. On a new floor. You know your old one is vacant and wonder whose idea was it to relocate you on another room instead of the one on his floor. Some smart person, for sure. The thought leads you to your current concern, with Steve away the floor would be totally empty and he would be alone with his night terrors.

Letting yourself fall face down on your bed, you stay like that for a while, before rolling over and placing a hand over your forehead.

You know what do.

It was a terrible, terrible idea, which could easily lead to catastrophic results. Mostly for your heart. But what choice did you have, really?

“Friday,” you listen to the prompt response from the A.I, “Would you please wake me up if- I mean, when you notice any kind of distress in Bucky´s sleep?”

You frown, finding very odd the unusual silence from the always efficient AI before the tentative answer, “Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? Considering your history with Sergeant Barnes...”

An inevitable curse leaves your lips aimed at Tony Stark for creating such a clever and sensitive program, if you even could call her that, “I am,” you lie, “Just don´t tell anyone, please.”

~~~~

“Miss-”

“I got it, thank you, Friday.” You´re still awake, rolling between your sheets, when the first warning of the night arrives.

Barefoot and in your pajama set, you don´t think twice before taking the elevator up to his floor. The overwhelming anxiety manifesting in your sweaty cold hands and tight jaw. An ice cold wave rushes through your chest to your limbs. It´s been so long since you´ve done this.

You find his door locked. “Friday?” you call, and you hear the unlocking sound before the doorknob gives in your push.

The whole apartment is pitch-dark as you cross the small living room towards his bedroom. When you get there, the sight before you wrenches a gasp from your lungs. His sheets are a complete mess, the borders already out of the mattress as he tosses and turns. Small whimpers slip out of his lips and, as you cautiously walk over to him, you see the desperation twisting his expression.

For a split of a moment, your mind drives you back to the very first days. Ironically enough, this was how you started getting closer in what felt like ages ago, with you not being able to stay quiet and sleep peacefully with the sounds of deep, deep mind torments behind your room.

A particularly loud cry blurs your memories, pulling you back to the similar present. You weren´t exactly sure of what you would do when you asked Friday to wake you up, but now, it´s second nature when you hurriedly drive yourself closer, but when you climb on his bed, you do it slowly and carefully, conscious of what a sudden awaken could cause, including to your physical health.

You lay down facing his side, getting a better look of his scrunched up expression and clenched jaw. His chest heaves as his hands grip on the sheets and his legs squirm. Aware of your own unstable breathing, it´s like you´re a spectator of your own actions when you do what you always did. You place a timid hand over his chest and the familiar warmth rushes through your veins, his skin is as hot as you remember and it takes all you have in you to not envelope him in your whole body, to feel every bit of him.

The single touch is enough to make the movements of his limbs and chest calmer, but his anguish is still evident on the incoherent mumbles and droplets of sweat falling from his forehead, which encourages you further, despite your own fretfulness.

“Hey,” you whisper, leading your mouth closer to his ear, hoping it wouldn’t be enough to wake him up, but to call his attention out of whatever terror is taking over his mind, “It’s ok. You’re ok. You’re safe,” You don’t notice but your hand gently draws circles around his chest, “It’s not real, it’s just a dream. I’m here, I…” this used to be the part when you said you loved him, “I… I missed you.” You gulp, not being able to help your own tears as you continue speaking softly to him, noticing the rushed heartbeats that only he was ever able to arouse in your chest. You can´t decide at this moment whether you to be scared or comforted by this well-known feeling.

You smile when his expression becomes softer, a little bit at least. His breathing is fully back to normal and his muscles are finally relaxed. You weren’t sure you would be able to help after so long, after everything… But despite it all, you’re glad you did. If there´s one thing you´re sure of it’s that he doesn´t deserve that kind of suffering, that kind of pain, no matter what he may think about the matter.

Before you would leave to your room, you allow yourself some time to take him in, which it has been impossible in the last week, since you ran from his presence and avoided looking, really looking at him, being certain he´s been acting the same when it comes to you.

He has cut his hair, which is odd to your eyes, you longed for his long locks, even if you’ve never admitted it to yourself through this last year. Under the touch of your hand, you feel he’s even more bulked, and you wondered how many hours he’s been spending in the gym. There’s a light scruff growing on his sharped jaw, defying you not to lay a kiss upon it…you breathe him, his scent, closing your eyes…still the same shampoo. Your gaze lay upon his completely peaceful sleeping face again. You really missed him, there’s no way to deny it anymore, at least not to yourself.

Deciding to leave before he would wake up and catch you in the unexplainable position, you remove your hand from his chest, and draw out one last glance at him before quietly turning to leave his bed, sitting up and letting your legs fall to the edge.

“Y/N.”

You freeze. Your eyes shut and a grimace twists your face. Ignoring the best you could your racing heartbeats and the tremble of your hands gripping the sheets, you open your eyes and tilt your head to look behind you.

He’s still peacefully sleeping, unmoved, except for his metal hand touching where you’ve been touching on his chest. You let a relieved sigh out of you.

“Y/N…Y/N.”

Nothing but faint whispers, but they’re efficient to make your heart pounding all over again. Is he dreaming of you? Is he sensing your presence? You want to move and leave him to his privacy, before it would be too late, but your body doesn’t seem to respond your commands as you keep staring at his sleeping form. Until you hear it.

“I’m sorry, baby…I’m sorry.”

The simple and unconscious words are enough for you to choke on a sob and storm out of his bedroom, allowing yourself to cry in your bed for the rest of your own restless night.

~~~~

Part 2

Permanent Tag List: didn’t work

@mytasterpeculiar @mar-gega @alohabucky @melconnor2007 @iamwarrenspeace @kaaatniss @kissmyjasdaddy @adaliamalfoy @roselock20 @curlycals @capbuckthor @lilasiannerd @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @ria132love @alwayshave-faith @camillechan @strange-intricate-dysfunction @cassandras-musings @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @captain-chimichanga @tilltheendwilliwrite @super-complicated @50shadesofyes @cokamarie24 @jayzayy @honey-bee-holly @httpmcrvel @milkywaybarnes @learisa @vintagepigeon @supernatural508 @missmeganrachel @its-daydreamer23 @nerdyandproud9 @geeksareunique @feelmyroarrrr @santheweird @the-real-kellymonster @buckyandivarlover @wolflhards @the-ragnarssons-tickle-spot @elaacreditava @saraniz @game-of-spidey-imagines @bitsandbobsandstuff @kandiidreams @wemettonight@lilmissperfectlyimperfect @bexboo616 @rebekahsalvator @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @fireflyloki28 @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @creideamhgradochas @suz-123 @coal000 @affleck40 @fuckthatfeeling

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes series #angst series #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes

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khstoryanalysis · 6 years

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Chapter 10: The Keyblade’s True Purpose

In Xehanort’s Report III, Xehanort states that the Keyblade wielders in the Age of Fairy Tales learned of the Keyblade’s true use – to conquer Kingdom Hearts. But is that the “true” use of a Keyblade? In the lore of Kingdom Hearts X [Chi], the Keyblade wielders try to defend the light by collecting Lux, a form of Light, which leads to imbalance, greed and the inevitable Keyblade War.

“May your heart be your guiding key.” This quote may sounds like a rip-off of the famous Star Wars quote, but it is worth analyzing it literally. Since Keyblades are forged from the wielders’ hearts, it makes sense to say that the Keyblades are the physical manifestations of the hearts’ wills. “No one can stop what your heart commands.” This is mainly seen in Kingdom Hearts 2, as you cannot stop a person from doing something out of the desire or will of his heart. The will can be used with the words “soul” and “mind” interchangeably. From the Ansem Reports, the soul is the life force and a person will die if his soul is pushed out of his body. This life force is also important as it allows people to carry out what their hearts desire.

With that, the heart guides the Keyblade to do what it commands. Since the Keyblades are forged in the image of the X-Blade, possibly the Keyblade of Kingdom Hearts, the true nature of the Keyblade can be found there. The X-Blade is made of equal light and darkness. Light has the power to bring life, while the darkness has the power to bring death. Since Kingdom Hearts is like a culmination of all hearts, the X-Blade may have existed to maintain balance between light and darkness, and the flow of hearts between Kingdom Hearts and the world. Hence, the X-Blade is the “guiding key” for Kingdom Hearts.

If the X-Blade is never intended to conquer Kingdom Hearts since Yen Sid says that it is the protector of Kingdom Hearts in Dream Drop Distance, then what is the true purpose of the Keyblades forged in its image? Well, to be the “guiding key” for the wielder who wants to help others, be it a selfless or selfish way.

From the beginning, Kingdom Hearts always says that your friends are your power. We see Sora is able to wield a Keyblade despite no Keyblade Inheritance Ceremony is performed on him. He is able to wield one by strengthening his heart through his ties with people. Through his adventure, he has met many people and kept those memories of their time spent together in his heart. Through interactions, Sora is able to understand them – their desires, fears and pain.

Through Leon, Aerith, Cid and Yuffie, Sora learns that many worlds have fallen into darkness and its inhabitants suffer from such a loss. Sora feels the same as his home Destiny Islands is destroyed and he loses Riku and Kairi. He understands that pain that they share, and he is willing to put an end to it. Hence, he uses the Keyblade to help others and lock Keyholes of the worlds he visits.

When Riku and Sora reunite in Hollow Bastion, Riku takes the Kingdom Key because that key belongs to him originally. He decides to use the Keyblade to save Kairi since he thinks Sora is incapable. Although Sora has lost the Keyblade and his companions, he is not giving up as he sees the Beast still determines to save Belle despite getting injured by Riku. Sora’s desire to save Kairi continues to push him forward.

When Sora confronts Riku, he says that he doesn’t need a Keyblade as his heart is a better weapon. He adds that the connections he has made with many people have made his heart stronger and as long as they remember each other, all of their hearts will become one. On the other hand, Riku sees the heart as weak and loses sight of true strength: friendship. Hence, the Keyblade rejects Riku and makes Sora its official wielder. The heart dictates the Keyblade, so the heart is more important. One who disregards the strength of the heart would not wield a Keyblade, even if he or she has the ability to do so.

The whole thing about friendship being the true strength has been stated since Kingdom Hearts X [Chi]. Keyblades are somewhat sentient beings as they choose their wielders. The Keyblades of Light and Darkness, created under the image of the X-Blade, would share the similar purpose as the X-Blade – to look after one another and help each other out. By doing so, balance can be achieved.

After going through the games and some analysis, I have found a pattern on how and when Keyblades come to their wielders.

Starlight Keyblade – this Keyblade is granted to the children in the Age of Fairy Tales. Its purpose is to help the Foretellers to drive out the darkness. Since the children are in the Unions created by the Foretellers, they use the Starlight Keyblades to help the Foretellers in their plan.

Kingdom Key

- Sora is the temporary wielder because Riku has been taken over by darkness. Besides, the Keyblade is needed to protect the worlds by destroying Heartless, locking Keyholes of the worlds and sealing the Door to Darkness.

- Riku is able to bring the Keyblade back to him as he wants to use it to help Kairi.

- The Keyblade makes Sora its official wielder because Sora is willing to help Kairi even though he does not have a Keyblade. Moreover, Riku rejects the strength of the heart.

- Roxas, Sora’s Nobody, is granted to wield one. He uses the Keyblade to help Organization XIII even though he does not know of their true motive.

- Xion, an imperfect replica of Roxas, made from Sora’s memories, is granted to wield one as well. Her power only awakens when Roxas gets defeated by a Heartless and drops his Keyblade.

- Though, Xion later loses the ability to wield a Keyblade. To cover up the truth, Axel suggests she and Roxas be paired up for missions and even manages to convince Saix to allow it. She later regains the ability when Roxas lends his Keyblade to her while he uses a stick to fight off Heartless. This symbiotic relationship of helping one another for the benefit of all of them helps strengthen Xion’s heart, allowing her to wield the Keyblade again.

Way to the Dawn

- Riku only gains it after he learns to control the darkness inside him thanks to Namine, who initially uses Kairi as a disguise, and Mickey. Riku keeps them in his heart and strengthens his heart.

- Riku decides to face his own darkness rather than falling asleep and allowing Namine to seal it because he wants to look after Sora, who has fallen asleep for Namine to rearrange his memories.

- Riku summons this Keyblade to save Kairi and Namine from Saix.

Destiny’s Embrace – Kairi is able to wield it as she has proven herself worthy. There have been a few scenarios that show that she is always willing to help those who cannot protect themselves.

Kingdom Key D – Mickey needs it to help sealing the Door to Darkness with the Kingdom Key. Sealing the Door will ensure the safety of the worlds. The Kingdom Key D then appears for Mickey’s aid.

Oathkeeper and Oblivion

- Oathkeeper resembles the relationship between Sora and Kairi; Oblivion resembles the relationship between Sora and Riku.

- Roxas is Sora’s Nobody, so he can wield them. He can dual-wield due to Ventus and is unlocked when he promises to remember Xion after she fades away, returning to Sora.

- These Keyblades come to Roxas because he is determined to overthrow Organization XIII (selfless act) and bring back Xion (selfish act).

- The Oblivion also goes to Riku because he wants to capture Roxas and return him to Sora, allowing him to wake up. Riku sees his memory with Xion and hears her telling him to stop Roxas from reaching Xemnas. This is because Xion thinks Roxas is not strong to face Xemnas and his strength needs to return to Sora, allowing Sora to harness full power to defeat Xemnas.

Earthshaker and Wayward Wind – These two Keyblades come to Aqua’s aid in her desperate time. Aqua treasures her friendship with Terra and Ventus.

Void Gear – Vanitas gains Ventus’ memories after the split. He may think that those memories are his, but they are not – Vanitas is a different person from Ventus. He knows that Ventus is scared and is unable to fight off the Neoshadows. Thinking that the memories are his, and he himself is Ventus, he feels the need to protect himself, but he actually desires to protect Ventus. Hence, a Keyblade that is different from Ventus’ comes to him (due to different agenda).

Lea’s Keyblade – It is assumed that Yen Sid has performed the ceremony on Lea but he only gets his Keyblade after helping Riku and Mickey to save Sora (and his friends Roxas, Xion and Ventus). He also expresses his willingness to help Riku if he is trapped in the darkness when attempting to awaken Sora.

In the more recent Kingdom Hearts 3 trailers and screenshots, Xehanort is seen to be surrounded by 12 other No Name Keyblades. It is believed that these Keyblades come from his vessels since he has implanted a piece of his heart into them. According to Nomura, Xehanort will take over their hearts and they will lose their individuality – they will become Xehanort himself. Hence, their ability to wield a No Name Keyblade is actually not gained – they are used by Xehanort for his goals.

Joseph Campbell once said that “new order is paradoxically no order at all”. If this quote be applied in Kingdom Hearts, it will mean that everybody can be a Keyblade wielder by learning the strength of a heart and to have compassion. This is evident as Sora can wield one without the ceremony being performed on him.

Those who does not understand the true strength or is evil would be out of reach as the Keyblades automatically knows who is ready for it. This is evident that the Kingdom Key rejects Riku for not understanding the strength of a heart. Even if Braig managed to defeat Terra, no Keyblade would come to him as he only viewed the Keyblade for power, not as a tool to help others. Even if anyone uses the Keyblades for evil purposes, other wielders will put a check on that, preventing a war. In truth, the world should be structured according to a general sense of platonic love.

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bloom-sanctuary · 2 months

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How to Manifest Abundance Effortlessly: A 7-Step Blueprint

Unlock the 7 Secrets to Effortlessly Manifest Abundance on Autopilot

Are you tired of struggling to make ends meet? Yearning for a life of prosperity and abundance? Look no further! In this eye-opening article, we'll reveal the seven powerful secrets to manifesting abundance on autopilot. Get ready to transform your life and attract wealth effortlessly!

Imagine waking up every day to a life overflowing with abundance. Financial freedom, fulfilling relationships, and endless opportunities at your fingertips. It's not just a dream – it's a reality you can create using the law of attraction and the right mindset. Let's dive into the secrets that will put your abundance on autopilot.

1.Shift Your Mindset The foundation of manifesting abundance lies in your thoughts. Cultivate a positive, abundance-focused mindset. Replace limiting beliefs with empowering ones. Instead of thinking, "I never have enough," affirm, "I am a magnet for abundance and prosperity."

2. Visualize Your Ideal Life Harness the power of visualization. Spend 10 minutes daily imagining your ideal abundant life in vivid detail. Feel the emotions associated with living that life. This practice aligns your subconscious mind with your desires.

3. Practice Gratitude Gratitude is the secret sauce to amplifying abundance. Start a daily gratitude journal, listing five things you're thankful for. This simple habit shifts your focus from lack to abundance, attracting more positive experiences.

4. Take Inspired Action While manifesting works on a spiritual level, it's crucial to take aligned action. Listen to your intuition and act on opportunities that come your way. Remember, the universe rewards those who show up and put in the effort.

5. Create Abundance Affirmations Reprogram your subconscious mind with powerful affirmations. Repeat statements like "I am worthy of abundance" or "Money flows to me easily and effortlessly" throughout the day. These positive reinforcements reshape your beliefs and attract abundance.

6. Surround Yourself with Abundance Your environment plays a significant role in manifesting. Declutter your space, surround yourself with objects that represent abundance, and spend time with positive, successful people. Your surroundings will reflect and amplify your abundant mindset.

7. Let Go and Trust the Process One of the biggest obstacles to manifesting is attachment to outcomes. Release your grip on how and when abundance will manifest. Trust the universe's timing and remain open to unexpected opportunities.

Conclusion Manifesting abundance on autopilot is within your reach. By implementing these seven secrets consistently, you'll transform your mindset and attract prosperity effortlessly. Remember, abundance is your birthright – it's time to claim it! Start today and watch as your life blossoms with unlimited opportunities and wealth. Secret to manifesting abundance!

#law of attraction #manifesting abundance #Manifestation #wealth manifestation #financialfreedom

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ka-za-ri · 7 years

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Metronome (Ignis x Reader)

Will I ever stop writing Ignis x reader? Apparently not. More experimental angst being thrown your way because all I can think about is heartbreak before and after the game. I also really REALLY love numbers and playing with them in writing. Expect that a lot. You’ve been warned.

No beta for my experimental stuff, my bf should not be subjected to having to edit this. lmao. Maybe now my muse will let me get back to my longer piece.

Genre: Slice of Life/Angst Rating: SFW Pairing: Ignis x Reader Wordcount: ~ 1,500

Suggested Listening: Thinking Out Loud -- Ed Sheeran Cover by Sungha Jung

Tagging: @hypaalicious @thirsty-angst-lord @roses-and-oceans @louisvuittontrashbags @itshaejinju

Four beats to a measure makes for one hundredth of a page. A hundred pages later, and he find himself back at the beginning of his feelings for you.

The music he sent you was written with stardust and tasted of ashen lies. Each told a story of a blissful life without sorrow. Each song he sent you to listen made the tempo of your heart go faster until it became an unbearable and constant beating in your ears. He didn't have time for words, so he kept in you in mind with songs.

One. To gently wake you up for when he left for work before the sun rose. Three. For you to listen to as you got ready for the day. Five. For the commute to your workplace. Each song to be played again in backwards order as you returned home after a long work day. By the time your door is unlocked and you made your way back into his arms, the dulcet melodies he chose for you would have been long forgotten for the slow dance tune that was he heartbeat.

Each song he chose was perfectly timed to your routine and his life. Though it was difficult to see him gone so often, you could always find solace in relistening to Thursday or Monday on repeat until he came home. Oftentimes, he would find you asleep on the living room couch listening to the second to last song for a Wednesday when he came home too late to tell you good night.

One hundred days meant twenty-eight days you saw him. One hundred days into loving Ignis Scientia meant seventy-two days of music that reminded you of how much he thought of you. Six hundred and forty-eight unique ways to say "I love you" in melodies that never lasted more than five minutes and twenty seconds.

Four beats to a measure to the sound of a heart. Thumping in the back of his skull is the dull headache of missing someone dear. Four beats to a measure and the pace hastens to match the sound of your excited heartbeat.

Weekends were the only time he didn't play music for you. Instead, those days were always filled with wordless songs as your head laid in his lap while he read papers and you played the melodica. Saturday and Sunday were the lazy days you loved the most as you hoarded the image of him when the sunlight beaming through the windows caught on the dust at the corners of his glasses.

It's less than half an hour until supper and he hasn't bothered to move from his seat. "It's too comfortable this way." He says, combing through your hair and tracing imaginary constellations on your face.

One thousand three hundred and fourteen seconds pass before you stop playing the melodica in favor of listening to him tell a story over a mug of Ebony and supper made for two half an hour behing schedule. Of the twenty-two years he had lived, he only allowed a fraction of the time to be spent relaxed. The fact that you were able to share those precious moments with him made your heart sing as loud as the sky was wide.

Metronome time passes as the sun sets on another rain filled day. Four beats to a measure and still, he cannot play the piano with one hand.

Not while his other hand was holding yours at least.

You loved feeling the callouses on his hands. Tracing over the rough spots that gave way to smoother skin, the topography of his hands was like the mixed meter of the last song he sent you three weeks and four days ago. He took great care and pain to achieve perfection for everyone to perceive, but through his stern mask, you saw his youth and tenderness. The creases in his palms ran deeply as his love for you, as strong as the beat of a pasa doble as the sun set.

His hand intertwined with yours as the night settled and the stars sprawled themselves across the sky. Blinded by the city lights, you could only ever pick out the brightest stars for him to look at. He'd always laugh softly, commenting about how old the light you were looking at was. He'd remind you to live in the present and not in the dull sparkle of what was in the past. Times like those, you'd lay your head on his shoulder, reminding him that your present, your past and your future meant hearing the evenly timed beats of his heart against the constant chaos of the world outside on the daily.

He'd smile and kiss your temple, promising a world made of love songs and dreams.

Three steps to a waltz. Your favorite dance no matter what the occasion was. A hundred steps later and once again, he's at the beginning of a number.

Eight hundred and eighty-eight hours worth of songs compiled themselves into thirty-seven days worth of songs to play on repeat until the recording broke and so did your patience.

Lonliness was a cruel mistress to you. As many songs were sent, as many promises were exchanged, the waltz between love and hate manifested itself eventually. The summer storms felt colder than they ever had been when heated quarrels made it hard to be in the same space together.

"You don't understand."

What is there to understand at all?

"This is my life. This is how it is."

"I know... I know... but it doesn't stop me from feeling this way."

"Please understand."

"I will. I'll try."

There's nothing to understand.

There was nothing to comprehend about the two mismatched beats, scrambling to clutch onto the happiness that was built on trust and forgotten folk songs.

"It hurts."

To perceive the pain as nothing more than a passing pulse would be a lie to the two of you. Determination and honesty persevered as his hand is back in yours, rubbing confident circles on the back of your palm, while you kissed at his brows until the worried lines melted. His soft smile and the barest traces of tears were all that remained of what animosity you had previously towards him.

Three steps to a waltz, two quick one slow. Matching the breathing of two people in love in one frantic life.

The bed you shared was an empty ballroom whenever he needed to leave in the middle of the night. Too often to count, you found yourself caressing slightly wrinkled sheets from where he once slept. The warmth he left just barely lingered longer than a rest in a measure of your life.

He'd leave notes scattered for you to pick up. One after another, evenly dosed to lull you back the shores of sleep and as you breathed in the scent of Ebony and orchids.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

I have to go for a little bit.

I'll be back.

Wait for me.

Good night.

The sun would rise and he would press soft kisses on your sleep drenched eyelids to remind you that no matter how far he went, he'd always come back to you.

Three steps to a waltz and there is no partner left to dance with.

Two half beats in a note turns into a skip in the rhythm.

Two thousand three hundred and forty-nine songs made up a working year of missing Ignis. You counted two hundred and sixty-one pages worth of days where he was gone. Out of those long days, five hundred and twenty minutes went to missing him while he was at work. Twenty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds went to holding him as he slept. The last moments to see and feel each other never lasted longer than a combination of Monday and Friday's playlists.

And then, he stopped recording.

As he marched off to the beating drum of duty, you did everything you could to match with half hearted tunes from an old, worn melodica.

Eighty seven thousand six hundred hours later, your fingers were calloused and the notes no longer played themselves as easily as they used to.

A forced tune is instead on repeat in your mind as time ticked mercilessly by.

Two half beats in a note towards the place where he would see you again.

Do you miss me?

Two half beats to the time of a sea made of stars where you first met.

"It's been a long time, Ignis."

"I know. I'm sorry I took so long to come home."

"It's okay. Welcome back. The sunrise is beautful today."

And you'd kiss his eyelids until he could feel every second you thought of him over the last ten years.

#Ignis x reader #ffxv imagine #ffxv headcanons #ignis scientia x reader #reader insert #my writing #might as well give into my muse and write in this style more #freeform as fuck #tagging ppl make me nervous #but really its bc i look up to their writing too??? idk how this works #what is tagging manners

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petrichorate · 6 years

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The War of Art: Thoughts

The War of Art (Steven Pressfield)

The back cover of this book reads, “Steven Pressfield shows readers how to identify, defeat, and unlock the inner barriers to creativity.”

I started reading The War of Art because my friend told me it was one of his “life-changing books.” I’m still processing everything in the book, but it might turn out that way for me too: Some parts of the book spoke so deeply to me that they’ve actually changed my mind about the kind of art I want to make. Of course, no one person can describe the experience of all artists, but there are still messages that resonated intensely with me and made me question my daily assumptions. Some of the things I need to think about coming out of this book:

How do I “turn pro” with my art?

What things in my life cause Resistance? How will I overcome them?

What kind of art do I want to make? Rather than pandering to an audience, what is the message in my heart that I need to pour out, even if I were the last person on Earth?

Why am I making my art? Who is it for? How can I make my art an offering to God?

Here are some especially memorable passages:

On the Resistance and our genius: “Late at night have you experienced a vision of the person you might become, the work you could accomplish, the realized being you were meant to be? Are you a writer who doesn’t write, a painter who doesn’t paint, an entrepreneur who never starts a venture? Then you know what Resistance is.... To yield to Resistance deforms our spirit. It stunts us and makes us less than we are and were born to be. If you believe in God (and I do) you must declare Resistance evil, for it prevents us from achieving the life God intended when He endowed each of us with our own unique genius. Genius is a Latin word; the Romans used it to denote an inner spirit, holy and inviolable, which watches over us, guiding us to our calling. A writer writes with his genius; an artist paints with hers; everyone who creates operates from this sacramental center. It is our soul’s seat, the vessel that holds our being-in-potential, our star’s beacon and Polaris.”

On using Resistance as a compass: “Like a magnetized needle floating on a surface of oil, Resistance will unfailingly point to true North—meaning that calling or action it most wants to stop us from doing. We can use this. We can use it as a compass. We can navigate by Resistance, letting it guide us to that calling or action that we must follow before all others. Rule of thumb: The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.”

On Resistance never going away: “Henry Fonda was still throwing up before each stage performance, even when he was seventy-five. In other words, fear doesn’t go away. The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day.”

On sabotage: “When a writer begins to overcome her Resistance—in other words, when she actually starts to write—she may find that those close to her begin acting strange. They may become moody or sullen, they may get sick; they may accuse the awakening writer of “changing,” of “not being the person she was.” The closer these people are to the awakening writer, the more bizarrely they will act and the more emotion they will put behind their actions. They are trying to sabotage her. The reason is that they are struggling, consciously or unconsciously, against their own Resistance. The awakening writer’s success becomes a reproach to them. If she can beat these demons, why can’t they? Often couples or close friends, even entire families, will enter into tacit compacts whereby each individual pledges (unconsciously) to remain mired in the same slough in which she and all her cronies have become so comfortable. The highest treason a crab can commit is to make a leap for the rim of the bucket.”

On procrastination: “Procrastination is the most common manifestation of Resistance because it’s the easiest to rationalize. We don’t tell ourselves, ‘I’m never going to write my symphony.’ Instead we say, ‘I am going to write my symphony; I’m just going to start tomorrow.’ The most pernicious aspect of procrastination is that it can become a habit. We don’t just put off our lives today; we put them off till our deathbed. Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work.”

On the unhappiness caused by Resistance: “What does Resistance feel like? First, unhappiness. We feel like hell. A low-grade misery pervades everything. We’re bored, we’re restless. We can’t get no satisfaction. There’s guilt but we can’t put our finger on the source. We want to go back to bed; we want to get up and party. We feel unloved and unlovable. We’re disgusted. We hate our lives. We hate ourselves.”

On freedom: “It may be that the human race is not ready for freedom. The air of liberty may be too rarefied for us to breathe. Certainly I wouldn’t be writing this book, on this subject, if living with freedom were easy. The paradox seems to be, as Socrates demonstrated long ago, that the truly free individual is free only to the extent of his own self-mastery. While those who will not govern themselves are condemned to find masters to govern over them.”

On self-doubt and love:

“Self-doubt can be an ally. This is because it serves as an indicator of aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing, and desire, desire to do it. If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), ‘Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?’ chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

On love: “Resistance is directly proportional to love. If you’re feeling massive Resistance, the good news is, it means there’s tremendous love there too. If you didn’t love the project that is terrifying you, you wouldn’t feel anything. The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. The more Resistance you experience, the more important your unmanifested art/project/enterprise is to you—and the more gratification you will feel when you finally do it.”

On professionals and amateurs: “Aspiring artists defeated by Resistance share one trait. They all think like amateurs. They have not yet turned pro. The moment an artist turns pro is epochal as the birth of his first child. With one stroke, everything changes. I can state absolutely that the term of my life can be divided into two parts: before turning pro, and after. To be clear: When I say professional, I don’t mean doctors and lawyers, those of ‘the professions.’ I mean the Professional as an ideal. The professional in contrast to the amateur. Consider the differences. The amateur plays for fun. The professional plays for keeps. To the amateur, the game is his avocation. To the pro it’s his vocation. The amateur plays part-time, the professional full-time. The amateur is a weekend warrior. The professional is there seven days a week. The word amateur comes from the Latin root meaning ‘to love.’ The conventional interpretation is that the amateur pursues his calling out of love, while the pro does it for money. Not the way I see it. In my view, the amateur does not love the game enough. If he did, he would not pursue it as a sideline, distinct from his ‘real’ vocation. The professional loves it so much he dedicates his life to it. He commits full-time. That’s what I mean when I say turning pro. Resistance hates it when we turn pro.”

On Pressfield’s daily life: “I wake up with a gnawing sensation of dissatisfaction. Already I feel fear. Already the loved ones around me are starting to fade. I interact. I’m present. But I’m not. I’m not thinking about the work. I’ve already consigned that to the Muse. What I am aware of is Resistance. I feel it in my guts. I afford it the utmost respect, because I know it can defeat me on any given day as easily as the need for a drink can overcome an alcoholic. I go through the chores, the correspondence, the obligations of daily life. Again I’m there but not really. The clock is running in my head; I know I can indulge in daily crap for a little while, but I must cut it off when the bell rings. I’m keenly aware of the Principle of Priority, which states (a) you must know the difference between what is urgent and what is important, and (b) you must do what’s important first. What’s important is the work. That’s the game I have to suit up for. That’s the field on which I have to leave everything I’ve got. Do I really believe that my work is crucial to the planet’s survival? Of course not. But it’s as important to me as catching that mouse is to the hawk circling outside my window. He’s hungry. He needs a kill. So do I.”

On already being a pro: “All of us are pros in one area: our jobs. We get a paycheck. We work for money. We are professionals. Now: Are there principles we can take from what we’re already successfully doing in our workaday life and apply to our artistic aspirations? What exactly are the qualities that define us as professionals? 1) We show up every day. We might do it only because we have to, to keep from getting fired. But we do it. We show up every day. 2) We show up no matter what. In sickness and in health, come hell or high water, we stagger in to the factory. We might do it only so as not to let down our co-workers, or for other, less noble reasons. But we do it. We show up no matter what. 3) We stay on the job all day. Our minds may wander, but our bodies remain at the wheel. We pick up the phone when it rings, we assist the customer when he seeks our help. We don’t go home till the whistle blows. 4) We are committed over the long haul. Next year we may go to another job, another company, another country. But we’ll still be working. Until we hit the lottery, we are part of the labor force. 5) The stakes for us are high and real. This is about survival, feeding our families, educating our children. It’s about eating. 6) We accept remuneration for our labor. We’re not here for fun. We work for money. 7) We do not overidentify with our jobs. We may take pride in our work, we may stay late and come in on weekends, but we recognize that we are not our job descriptions. The amateur, on the other hand, overidentifies with his avocation, his artistic aspiration. He defines himself by it. He is a musician, a painter, a playwright. Resistance loves this. Resistance knows that the amateur composer will never write his symphony because he is overly invested in its success and overterrified of its failure. The amateur takes it so seriously it paralyzes him. 8) We master the technique of our jobs. 9) We have a sense of humor about our jobs. 10) We receive praise or blame in the real world. Now consider the amateur: the aspiring painter, the wannabe playwright. How does he pursue his calling? One, he doesn’t show up every day. Two, he doesn’t show up no matter what. Three, he doesn’t stay on the job all day. He is not committed over the long haul; the stakes for him are illusory and fake. He does not get money. And he overidentifies with his art. He does not have a sense of humor about failure. You don’t hear him bitching, ‘This fucking trilogy is killing me!’ Instead, he doesn’t write his trilogy at all.”

On the payoff of going pro: “Remember what we said about fear, love, and Resistance. The more you love your art/calling/enterprise, the more important its accomplishment is to the evolution of your soul, the more you will fear it and the more Resistance you will experience facing it. The payoff of playing-the-game-for-money is not the money (which you may never see anyway, even after you turn pro). The payoff is that playing the game for money produces the proper professional attitude. It inculcates the lunch-pail mentality, the hard-core, hard-head, hard-hat state of mind that shows up for work despite rain or snow or dark of night and slugs it out day after day.”

On Resistance and enthusiasm: “Resistance outwits the amateur with the oldest trick in the book: It uses his own enthusiasm against him. Resistance gets us to plunge into a project with an overambitious and unrealistic timetable for its completion. It knows we can’t sustain that level of intensity. We will hit the wall. We will crash. The professional, on the other hand, understands delayed gratification. He is the ant, not the grasshopper; the tortoise, not the hare. Have you heard the legend of Sylvester Stallone staying up three nights straight to churn out the screenplay for Rocky? I don’t know, it may even be true. But it’s the most pernicious species of myth to set before the awakening writer, because it seduces him into believing he can pull off the big score without pain and without persistence. The professional arms himself with patience, not only to give the stars time to align in his career, but to keep himself from flaming out in each individual work. He knows that any job, whether it’s a novel or a kitchen remodel, takes twice as long as he thinks and costs twice as much. He accepts that. He recognizes it as reality.”

On order: “When I lived in the back of my Chevy van, I had to dig my typewriter out from beneath layers of tire tools, dirty laundry, and moldering paperbacks. My truck was a nest, a hive, a hellhole on wheels whose sleeping surface I had to clear each night just to carve out a foxhole to snooze in. The professional cannot live like that. He is on a mission. He will not tolerate disorder. He eliminates chaos from his world in order to banish it from his mind. He wants the carpet vacuumed and the threshold swept, so that Muse may enter and not soil her gown.”

On excuses: “The amateur, underestimating Resistance’s cunning, permits the flu to keep him from his chapters; he believes the serpent’s voice in his head that says mailing off the manuscript is more important than doing the day’s work. The professional has learned better. He respects Resistance. He knows if he caves in today, no matter how plausible the pretext, he’ll be twice as likely to cave in tomorrow. The professional knows that Resistance is like a telemarketer; if you so much as say hello, you’re finished. The pro doesn’t even pick up the phone. He stays at work.”

On preparation: “I’m not talking about craft; that goes without saying. The professional is prepared at a deeper level. He is prepared, each day, to confront his own self-sabotage. The professional understands that Resistance is fertile and ingenious. It will throw stuff at him that he’s never seen before. The professional prepares mentally to absorb blows and to deliver them. His aim is to take what the day gives him. He is prepared to be prudent and prepared to be reckless, to take a beating when he has to, and to go for the throat when he can. He understands that the field alters every day. His goal is not victory (success will come by itself when it wants to) but to handle himself, his insides, as sturdily and steadily as he can.”

On external feedback: “The professional cannot allow the actions of others to define his reality. Tomorrow morning the critic will be gone, but the writer will still be there facing the blank page. Nothing matters but that he keep working. Short of a family crisis or the outbreak of World War III, the professional shows up, ready to serve the gods. Remember, Resistance wants us to cede sovereignty to others. It wants us to stake our self-worth, our identity, our reason-for-being, on the response of others to our work. Resistance knows we can’t take this. No one can.”

On going pro being a decision: “There’s no mystery to turning pro. It’s a decision brought about by an act of will. We make up our mind to view ourselves as pros and we do it. Simple as that.”

On the mystery that arises from work: “Why have I stressed professionalism so heavily in the preceding chapters? Because the most important thing about art is to work. Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying. Why is this so important? Because when we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set into motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid. Unseen forces enlist in our cause; serendipity reinforces our purpose. This is the other secret that real artists know and wannabe writers don’t. When we sit down each day and do our work, power concentrates around us. The Muse takes note of our dedication. She approves. We have earned favor in her sight. When we sit down and work, we become like a magnetized rod that attracts iron fillings. Ideas come. Insights accrete. Just as Resistance has its seat in hell, so Creation has its home in heaven. And it’s not just a witness, but an eager and active ally.”

On working and providence: “Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would not otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have dreamed would come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: ‘Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic, and power in it. Begin it now.’ —W. H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition”

On what the Self believes: “4) The supreme emotion is love. Union and mutual assistance are the imperatives of life. We are all in this together. 5) God is all there is. Everything that is, is God in one form or another. God, the divine ground, is that in which we live and move and have our being. Infinite planes of reality exist, all created by, sustained by and infused by the spirit of God.”

On doing what the Ego hates: “The instinct that pulls us toward art is the impulse to evolve, to learn, to heighten and elevate our consciousness. The Ego hates this. Because the more awake was become, the less we need the Ego. The Ego hates it when the awakening writer sits down at the typewriter. The Ego hates it when the aspiring painter steps up before the easel. The Ego hates it because it knows that these souls are awakening to a call, and that that call comes from a plane nobler than the material one and from a source deeper and more powerful than the physical.”

On why hierarchy is fatal: “For the artist to define himself hierarchically is fatal. Let’s examine why. First, let’s look at what happens in a hierarchical orientation. An individual who defines himself by his place in a pecking order will: 1) Complete against all others in the order, seeking to elevate his station by advancing against those above him, while defending his place against those beneath. 2) Evaluate his happiness/success/achievement by his rank within the hierarchy, feeling most satisfied when he’s high and most miserable when he’s low. 3) Act toward others based upon their rank in the hierarchy, to the exclusion of all other factors. 4) Evaluate his every move solely by the effect it produces on others. He will act for others, dress for others, speak for others, think for others. But the artist cannot look to others to validate his efforts or his calling.... In the hierarchy, the artist faces outward. Meeting someone new his asks himself, ‘What can this person do for me? How can this person advance my standing?’ In the hierarchy, the artist looks up and looks down. The one place he can’t look is that place he must: within.”

On being a hack: “I learned this from Robert McKee. A hack, he says, is a writer who second-guesses his audience. When the hack sits down to work, he doesn’t ask himself what’s in his own heart. He asks what the market is looking for. The hack condescends to his audience. He thinks he’s superior to them. The truth is, he’s scared to death of them or, more accurately, scared of being authentic in front of them, scared of writing what he really feels or believes, what he himself thinks is interesting. He’s afraid it won’t sell. So he tries to anticipate what the market (a telling word) wants, then gives it to them.”

On bringing forth what is inside of us: “Instead let’s ask ourselves like that new mother: What do I feel growing inside me? Let me bring that forth, if I can, for its own sake and not for what it can do for me or how it can advance my standing.”

On the difference between territory and hierarchy: “How can we tell if our orientation is territorial or hierarchical? One way is to ask ourselves, If I were feeling really anxious, what would I do? If we would pick up the phone and call six friends, one after the other, with the aim of hearing their voices and reassuring ourselves that they still love us, we’re operating hierarchically. We’re seeking the good opinion of others. What would Arnold Schwarzenegger do on a freaky day? He wouldn’t phone his buddies; he’d head for the gym. He wouldn’t care if the place was empty, if he didn’t say a word to a soul. He knows that working out, all by itself, is enough to bring him back to his center. His orientation is territorial. Here’s another test. Of any activity you do, ask yourself: If I were the last person on earth, would I still do it? If you’re all alone on the planet, a hierarchical orientation makes no sense. There’s no one to impress. So, if you’d still pursue that activity, congratulations. you’re doing it territorially.”

On offering our work to God: “When Krishna instructed Arjuna that we have a right to our labor but not to the fruits of our labor, he was counseling the warrior to act territorially, not hierarchically. We must do our work for its own sake, not for fortune or attention or applause. Then there’s the third way proffered by the Lord of Discipline, which is beyond both hierarchy and territory. That is to do the work and give it to Him. Do it as an offering to God. ‘Give the act to me. Purged of hope and ego, Fix your attention on the soul. Act and do for me.’ The work comes from heaven anyway. Why not give it back? To labor in this way, The Bhagavad-Gita tells us, is a form of meditation and a supreme species of spiritual devotion. It also, I believe, conforms most closely to Higher Reality. In fact, we are servants of the Mystery. We were put here on earth to act as agents of the Infinite, to bring into existence that which is not yet, but which will be, through us. Every breath we take, every heartbeat, every evolution of every cell comes from God and is sustained by God every second, just as every creation, invention, every bar of music or line of verse, every thought, vision, fantasy, every dumb-ass flop and stroke of genius comes from that infinite intelligence that created us and the universe in all its dimensions, out of the Void, the field of infinite potential, primal chaos, the Muse. To acknowledge that reality, to efface all ego, to let the work come through us and give it back freely to its source, that, in my opinion, is as true to reality as it gets.”

On the artist’s duty: “Are you a born writer? Were you put on earth to be a painter, a scientist, an apostle of peace? In the end the question can only be answered by action. Do it or don’t do it. It may help to think of it this way. If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don’t do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet. You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite the Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter farther along its path back to God. Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.”

#books #reading list #the war of art #steven pressfield #notes

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entergamingxp · 4 years

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Inside gaming’s least safe safe rooms • Eurogamer.net

Via Facebook group chat, I’m speaking with Suguru Murakoshi and Hiroko Usuda from the now-defunct Team Silent. We’re talking about their time working on Silent Hill 4: The Room as director and designer, respectively – diving into the creation of Room 302, the apartment that kicks off the story and remains ever-present in the narrative.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SILENT HILL 4, DOOM ETERNAL, DEATH STRANDING, WARHAMMER END TIMES – VERMINTIDE, FATAL FRAME 3: THE TORMENTED, AND AMNESIA: THE DARK DESCENT.

It’s the only save point in the game, naturally turning it into a safe room. Over time, however, this initial promise of safety is broken by a series of increasingly dangerous hauntings, turning your home into an unfamiliar and hostile space.

“The concept of Silent Hill 4 was clear from the early stages of development – the fear of eroding the safest places,” director Murakoshi tells me. “Three teams came up with a plan, and the concept of a room was chosen because it was the scariest of them. Since then, rooms have always been at the core.”

Room 302 is terryfying from the off because it doesn’t let you unlock the door from the inside. But at least the room is presented as your sanctuary. It’s only halfway into the story that things change. Looking back, Usuda considers this a “contrasting expression”.

Silent Hill 4’s Room 302.

Safe rooms have long been present in video games. Survival horror has treated them as a tradition over the years, offering players a shelter to save their progress, resupply, and regain their breath. They are great motivators to continue venturing further in Resident Evil games despite the unforeseen horrors waiting on the other side of the door. Iterations on this idea can be seen in other genres as well, present in the likes of Dark Souls’ bonfires, Darkest Dungeon’s camps, and many others. Although the purpose of each safe room may differ, the expectation from players is the safe room is, in fact, safe. But some developers have subverted this expectation, finding a new way to expose horror in previously guarded spaces.

We all broke a sweat after hearing the news Nemesis was now able to break into safe rooms in the Resident Evil 3 remake. The news turned out to be untrue, thankfully, but other video games are not so reserved. Unsafe rooms, as I like to call them, have slowly emerged throughout the years. Illusions manifest themselves as psychological torments in Death Stranding’s private rooms. Doom Eternal’s hub area, being the most recent example, suffers an unexpected attack at one point during the story. “This stronghold will now serve as your prison,” speaks the voice of Khan Maykr, now infiltrated into your navigation system. Demons quickly reveal themselves to be lurking in the shadows, ready to attack.

Doom Eternal’s safe room goes from this…

To this.

These moments can leave a long-lasting impression on players, but timing is everything when it comes to surprising them. Warhammer: End Times – Vermintide’s The Red Moon Inn was created as an interactive space in which players could spend time in-between missions. Over time, the inn became a community hub, and studio Fatshark added special events and interactive elements to capitalise on this.

Fatshark unexpectedly threw all that out of the window via a free DLC mission in which the hub is overrun by Skaven. “We had a door to the cellar from the launch of Vermintide, and the community speculated about what was behind it,” producer Mrten Stormdal tells me over email. “We wanted to create an element of surprise, and the players’ interest made it more fun for us as developers to come up with the story.”

This sudden outburst had a positive reception from the community, which Stormdal remembers fondly. “Watching streamers playing through it for the first time was priceless, they never knew what hit them. This is probably partly because it took so long before we did it. It needs to be introduced very carefully, and very scarcely, since it is supposed to be a safe room first and foremost.”

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Videocult co-creator and composer James Therrien argues for and against adding these events into safe rooms, both from a developer and player perspective, based upon the news around Nemesis allegedly infiltrating them. “For me, it depends on the game’s intention. For a dynamic, unfair game like Rain World I believe it could fit well if done smartly, as with horror games where an encroachment of the in-game narrative into the ‘safe space’ of the UI can be used for solid and terrifying dramatic effect,” he explains.

“But that’s me speaking as a creator, enthusiastic to use and subvert whatever tools are available [for] me to convey emotion and narrative to my audience. As a player, I would absolutely throw my controller and complain on Twitter if I had just completed some long game passage and then died unexpectedly, when my heretofore established ‘safe space’ suddenly isn’t and I have to start the section all over again!”

In the early iterations of Rain World, a survival game in which you play a nomadic slugcat who must hunt enough food to survive, hibernation dens were planned on being fewer in numbers and larger in size, leading players to make them their home for some time, bringing supplies and resources. But as the world grew bigger, the idea of counting with just a few central safe nodes became impractical. You can still store food and items in the final dens, but it’s more of a hidden mechanic than an overt one.

If you end up hibernating while lacking the proper amount of resources, however, the process will carry on as usual, but not without consequences. You are unable to save your game until you rest in a new shelter with enough food, and the slugcat will look thinner and weigh less during the so-called starvation mode. Midway through development, the studio had the idea of letting creatures invade these dens, forcing the player to find a new one.

“We allowed for that behavior to take place in the game’s architecture, but then in testing it became a nightmare, they liked the dens too much!” Therrien says. “Eventually we had to hack it a number of ways to prevent hostile creatures from entering dens, as often the game would save that state and then a player’s save file might be ruined by them waking up with a hungry lizard… permanently! Even the layers of hacks we put in are not always successful, and a player will have to deal with an irate scavenger or lizard roommate. But it’s worth it because players can also intentionally hibernate with tamed or befriended creatures, which adds so much to the game.”

Rain World.

Silent Hill 4’s Room 302 isn’t the only famous unsafe room. The mansion in Fatal Frame 3: The Tormented also serves as a shelter for most of your time in the game, since it’s only when you dream that ethereal beings manifest themselves in the Manor of Sleep. But over time that protection begins to fall apart as paranormal presences bleed into reality. Looking over your shoulder becomes mandatory.

Fatal Frame 3: The Tormented.

Another known example is the Back Hall from Amnesia: The Dark Descent. After escaping the archive tunnels and witnessing first hand some of the horrors that await Daniel in the story, you find yourself in a big, surprisingly illuminated room. There’s an eerie fountain in its centre that doesn’t give much confidence, but it’s the soothing music (the track is fittingly called ‘Safe Ambient’) and the sudden change of environment that provide a feeling that wasn’t in any of the rooms before it.

Such feeling is later swept away by the presence of The Shadow, an invisible enemy who is constantly chasing Daniel around the manor and its whereabouts. The water in the fountain turns red and organic residue invades the hall completely. Another safe space mutates into anything but.

“A core element of the game is being hunted by this vast horror that destroys everything in its past,” creative director and Frictional Games co-founder Thomas Grip tells me. “So we wanted to make sure the environments had this sense of changing as this threat grew. Players were unlikely to revisit many of the levels, so the hub levels felt like the right place to do this.

“We didn’t want players to become too used to the environments, as that kills that sense of uncertainty you want in a horror game. You get good horror when people look around and don’t know what they might find. If players feel their surroundings are very stable and familiar, you won’t have that. So, the trick is to always keep changing.”

Amnesia: The Dark Descent

Looking back, Silent Hill 4’s use of room 302 as the only recurrent save point was a gamble in terms of player exhaustion. “At the time, I didn’t intend to put save points outside the room,” Murakoshi continues. “However, it’s insanely inconceivable in recent games. 2004 was different from the current game situation. [Taking it into consideration], I think it was not balanced, but for me the difficulty before returning to the save point was not so high.” He adds that in today’s context, Silent Hill 4 would need to be more kind towards the player, but most of the choices made back in the early 2000s would remain, such as expressing a normal daily life on the outside as much as possible, granting the illusion that one day you might resume your routine with the others.

This included the neighbors occasionally appearing in the door’s fisheye, along with everything you could see from the room’s window. (Usuda based the window on Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window.) I also asked Murakoshi if the shifting house from Kojima Productions’ horror tease P.T. could be considered a safe room, which he immediately denied, recalling the initial sense of shelter in room 302: “That house is not safe. It doesn’t have any elements to give you a sense of security.”

Gloomwood’s developer Dillon Rogers has been documenting these spaces on Twitter for almost two years now, and argues disrupting a safe room doesn’t involve just timing, but also the consideration of what comes next, based on the effect it has on the player. Knowing that a safe room no longer holds its initial purpose can be good tension in its own right, but periods of time dedicated to allowing players to let down their guard are equally important to prevent exhaustion.

Room 302. Silent Hill 4: The Room. (Team Silent, 2004) pic.twitter.com/1OLZTPUEiX

— The Safe Room (@TheSaferooms) May 9, 2018

In his game, phonographs serve as the typewriter equivalent, and players can tell when one is nearby because the devices play music. Depending on the difficulty, wax cylinders also need to be used to save their current progress. As of now, Rogers doesn’t want to reveal if the game ever disrupts its rules, which is probably for the better. “You have to be quite careful about breaking the sanctity of the safe room as once that bell has been rung, you can’t unring it,” he tells me.

The first memory he has about a traditional safe room being broken comes from the original Resident Evil 2. There’s one moment in the utility building behind the police station where two zombies attack during one of the series’ iconic door opening sequences, which were only supposed to be a stylish way of presenting loading screen transitions between rooms up to that point.

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“I don’t think that moment would have worked as well if the original Resident Evil hadn’t built up a full game’s worth of expectations,” Rogers says. “The player entered the sequel knowing the original game always assumed the door sequences and safe rooms were off-limits, and when the game broke both rules at once – it was frightening.”

Now that’s a contrasting expression.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/04/inside-gamings-least-safe-safe-rooms-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=inside-gamings-least-safe-safe-rooms-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

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snakecolumn95 · 5 years

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Why You Can’t Afford Not To Meditate (& One Simple Mindfulness Exercise You Can Do Today)

The following is a guest post by Emily Fletcher, a leading expert in meditation for extraordinary performance and former podcast guest of mine on the episode, “Meditation For Mind-Blowing Sex, Meditation For Insomnia, Meditation For Energy & Much More.“

Emily is also the founder of Ziva Meditation. You can use code: BEN50 to save $50 off of The Ziva Technique, a powerful trifecta of mindfulness, meditation, and manifesting designed to unlock your full potential. Its benefits include decreased stress, deeper sleep, improved immune function, and extraordinary performance.

Her book, Stress Less, Accomplish More, debuted at #7 out of all books on Amazon. Basically, Emily is a meditation ninja, so I couldn’t think of a better person to fill my readers in on the health benefits on meditating. Enjoy!

How To Reverse The Damage Of Stress

It’s easy to fall into the illusion that once you become successful your stress will magically disappear. As a meditation teacher to some of the world’s top performers, I have learned that even people at the top of their game are often crippled with stress. Where this gets tricky is that many of them see this as a positive thing. Most of my CEO clients will say, “Stress gives me my competitive edge.” Many of my actor clients will say, “My stress is where my creativity comes from.” And my fitness friends will say, “Stress fuels me so I can kick a$$ during my workouts.”

The problem is, this isn’t true.

Don’t get me wrong. Some stress is great. The acute stress of a HIIT workout, a cold plunge, or even something as simple as eating wild plants is indeed good for you. It strengthens the strong mitochondria and kills off the weak ones. This is called hormesis—and it is wildly different than the low-grade chronic stress most of us have been living with for decades.

I’m talking about work deadlines, your passive aggressive mother-in-law, someone cutting you off in traffic. All of these things send us into a fight or flight stress reaction that was once reserved for fighting off predators. Today, our bodies are continuously preparing for battle—even when there’s no physical threat in sight. Add to that the fact that much of our food isn’t food anymore, the 24-hour fear-inducing news cycle, soaking in screen lights instead of sunlight, and we have a perfect recipe for overwhelm and fatigue.

Get The Low Carb Athlete - 100% Free!Eliminate fatigue and unlock the secrets of low-carb success. 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Operating day in and day out with that low-grade, chronic stress is basically like dumping acid—adrenaline and cortisol—into our brains and bodies all day every day. And it’s not doing us any favors in the performance or beauty department. The effects include insomnia, inflammation, premature aging, erectile dysfunction, infertility, irritable bowel syndrome, and anxiety.

So, while it’s not bad for you to get stressed, it’s terrible for you to stay stressed. According to research from Harvard Medical School, stress is responsible for 90% of all doctors visits. Yup, you read that right—90%. And that stress and inflammation may be keeping you from getting the most out of your life and performing at the top of your game.

Ready for some good news? This is all reversible—and the method used to reverse it has been used successfully for over 6,000 years. I’m talking about meditation.

Why You’re Not Too Busy to Meditate

Right now, it seems everyone is talking about meditation. And at this point, you probably know you should be doing it. You’ve heard the seemingly endless amounts of neuroscience behind it; you’ve read the articles about the countless benefits. Maybe you’ve even dabbled with free mindfulness apps or a drop-in studio.

But now that we know for sure it’s so good for us, why do so many of us still think we’re too busy to meditate? Especially since many of the world’s top performers have outed themselves as meditators, including Bill Gates, Ray Dalio, Tim Ferriss, Oprah, and Jack Dorsey (Check out Ben’s podcast, “Advanced Stress Mitigation Tactics, Extreme Time-Saving Workouts, DIY Cold Tubs, Hormesis, One-Meal-A-Day & More.” for more on how Dorsey uses mediation to handle the tremendous amount of stress he deals with in his life and work.)

People come to me every day and say that they simply don’t have time to meditate. When I ask them what style they are doing they usually say they listen to a YouTube video or do 10 minutes of a guided app here and there. While there is nothing wrong with these styles, they may not be giving you the kind of return on time investment you are looking for. And if you don’t do it everyday you simply aren’t getting the same amount of benefit available if you get your buns in the chair on the reg.

None of us have time to waste. So if you aren’t noticing you have more time, better decision-making capabilities, a stronger sex drive, and more flow state you may want to explore other styles; perhaps even one that you look forward to instead of feeling like it is yet another chore on your to-do list (yes, they do exist).

Right now, meditation is undergoing the same facelift exercise did in the 70s. The evidence is pretty stacked—meditation will indeed make your life better.

Why?

Because it eliminates stress from your brain and body. And eliminating that stress helps you to sleep better, have sharper focus, better decision-making skills, a stronger immune system, increased productivity, and even better sex.

Before you roll your eyes, I want you to take all preconceived notions you have about meditation and throw them out the window. If the first thing you think about when you hear “the M word” is monks, incense, fancy fingers, gongs, or hippies, then you’re in luck. You don’t need to be or have any of those things to meditate. Here’s what you do need to start your meditation career: training.

The reason why so many of us feel like meditation failures is that we assume we should already magically know how to do it. But like anything else, we need to learn how to do it in order to get the highest return on our time investment. You wouldn’t decide, “I’m going to do a Japanese challenge” and then try to speak Japanese for 20 minutes a day without investing in some sort of training first. That would be unproductive, frustrating and likely lead to you quitting. Similarly, in order to get the most benefit from your meditation practice, you have to learn how to do it. Don’t confuse simplicity for weakness or ease.

But first, let’s get clear on the difference between mindfulness (what most people are practicing) and meditation (what I teach).

Mindfulness vs. Meditation

Recently, the New York Times reported that out of the 38 million people who downloaded the Headspace app, only 1 million people have paid for a continuing membership.

What that suggests to me is that there are 37 million people out there looking for a mental tool that will make them want to continue on.

This makes sense; because most of the “meditation” apps out there are teaching shades of mindfulness—which is very good at relieving your stress in the right now. Mindfulness is beautiful (it’s even a part of the technique that I teach at Ziva), but if you want to get rid of the stress you’ve built up in your cellular and epigenetic memory then we need to give the body the deep healing rest of meditation.

Research has shown that we are storing several generations of stress in our nervous systems, meaning that your stress isn’t just YOUR stress—it will also affect future generations after you if you don’t take care of it now. To really dive deep and clear out the stress you’ve been storing in your nervous system, it’s time for a hardware upgrade on your brain machine.

So how do you do that?

By practicing a technique that was made for people with busy minds and busy lives. A practice that’s specifically designed to go in and de-excite the nervous system, giving your body rest that is deeper than sleep to help you perform at the top of your game.

I teach a powerful trifecta of mindfulness, meditation, and manifesting called The Ziva Technique. The mindfulness portion is a lovely runway from your 100mph day into the deep, healing rest that is meditation. If mindfulness is the appetizer of The Ziva Technique, meditation really is the main course. I teach a way of meditating that lets you access a verifiable fourth state of consciousness—different that waking, sleeping or dreaming. And this state is what allows your body to access a type of rest allows your body to heal itself—mainly from stress.

You’ll be amazed to find that when you chip away at the backlog of stress stored in your nervous system, you become more productive, more clear, more creative, more patient. Your sleep gets more restful, your anxiety abates, and your sex even gets better! All things that save you time and energy (and help you enjoy your life a lot more).

A perfect example of why you don’t have time NOT to meditate is this: in a case study for meditation and the workplace, Aetna participated in a meditation program to see how it affected general work performance. The CEO found that the employees who meditated gained over an hour of productivity each week (translating to a savings of $3,000 per employee per year!). This means they were able to work through their to-do lists in less time while also reducing stress.

In addition to increased productivity, meditation also helps you:

Mindfulness and meditation are both important to becoming the most amazing version of yourself and used in tandem will help wipe out stress right now while digging up the trauma that’s been stored in your cells.

Come To Your Senses – One Simple Mindfulness Exercise You Can Do Right Now

If you’re interested in dipping a toe into the type of technique that I teach, here’s a mindfulness exercise that we use to prepare for a sitting of the full Ziva Technique.

This is great for slowing down the momentum of your day so that you can allow everything happening around you to be part of the experience instead of trying to block things out or pretend you can’t hear.

Have a seat with your back supported and your head free. Close your eyes and move through each of your five senses. Notice what you hear, what you feel, what you see, what you taste and what you smell—one at a time. For each one, notice the most prevalent and the most subtle sensations. Then, begin to stack all of your senses on top of one another, holding all of them in your awareness at one time. I would recommend starting with five minutes and building up to eight.

Using your five senses is a great way to ground yourself in your body and in the present moment which is where your fulfillment lives, inside of you and in this moment.

Summary

Meditation is a proven, powerful tool that the world’s top performers rely on to minimize stress. It’s been proven to help with symptoms of depression, enhance longevity, and minimize the cognitive decline that comes with aging.

If you haven’t already, check out my podcast with Emily to learn more about meditation, how you can use it to get the equivalent of taking a power nap, the best form of meditation for sleep or insomnia, and much more.

If you’re ready to give meditation a try for yourself, my company Kion will be leading a FREE 5-day meditation challenge starting next week. Whether you’re new to meditation, want to learn more about it and its benefits, or are a seasoned veteran looking to take part in a worldwide meditation challenge with thousands of other like-minded people from across the globe (Kion’s fasting challenge had over 10,000 participants!), you won’t want to miss this.

With guided meditations led by yours truly, along with Emily Fletcher, Paul Chek and Kion COO, Angelo Keely, you’ll learn how to make meditation practical, the most effective techniques, as well as how to customize your own practice with a comprehensive eBook.

What about you? What are your experiences with meditation, or what questions do you have for Emily or me? Please leave your questions, comments, and feedback in the comments section below, and one of us will reply!

Ask Ben a Podcast Question

Source: https://bengreenfieldfitness.com/article/brain-articles/health-benefits-of-meditation/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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nzechoslova4ja · 7 years

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THIS ENTITY HIJACKING OUR EARTH HAS NO CAPACITY TO FEEL TRUE LOVE SO ITS SAPS OUR BODY TO KEEP ITSELF ALIVE THE TRUTH HAS BEEN STOLEN FROM YOU The new boss is starting to look a bit like the old bosses… Truthstream Can Be Found Here: Website: https://TruthstreamMedia.com FB: https://Facebook.com/TruthstreamMedia Twitter: @TruthstreamNews Newsletter: https://eepurl.com/bbxcWX THERE IS A WAR NOT ON FLESH AND BLOOD BUT ON SPIRITUAL DARK FORCES DECEPTIVE ENTITIES CUNNING BAFFLING EGO MANIPULATORS TAKE THE SHIELD OF POWER FAITH STUDY MEDITATE PRAY TO SOURCE CONNECT TO SOURCE ALSO RECLAIM YOUR SOVEREIGNTY https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50kE55EvRw8 Everything you think you know has been fabricated to keep you seduced and asleep. You are here to discover and awaken the sleeping consciousness within you.~The Feudal System Never Left & You Are Chattel Owned~THE MATRIX PRISON LEARN THE RULES https://www.sovereignkees.com/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kopPZCqLGoo ~ The Way into the Becoming ~ We Are Seeds Transmuting the Physical Body into Our True Immortality in the Great Becoming ~ ~ Every Choice is Critical and the Path Must Be Consciously Walked with Integrity in Truth. Every Choice is Critical No Matter How Small they seem, they comprise the Universe. ~ IS EVERYTHING IN OUR HUMAN HISTORY ONE FUCKING LIEwww.youtube.com/watch?v=rJJjOKmwl6s Are You Ready To Reclaim Your Sovereignty? The Hijacking - Original Fall There is much healthy discussion taking place in determining the ways that manipulating forces have invaded, hijacked and concealed Light Truth. For those on such a quest in their awakening state, a far more sophisticated level of ensnaring is surfacing on account of this power; a power occurring within the Universal Wave, which is inside us as much as throughout the Universe. Now more than ever we are navigating through a minefield of not only misinformation, disinformation and spiritual interference, but also a whole new level of seduction that seeks to blind and bind humanity deeper within the earthen prison matrix- especially against those waking up and unlocking Keys. The aim of the game is to snare humanity utilizing powerful truths. If one is connected to their True Source, through ones inner kingdom, and not via external sources, then they will not seek to gravitate to anything parasitic with attaching hosting forces, designed to lead one astray. Their means of snaring are conducted with enough pearls of truth to seduce ones soul (not Spirit as the Spirit cannot be lied or seduced to), to not only be harvested, but also invaded, possessed and bound unto all manner of trappings. Such effects will only lead one away from SELF, which is derailing from the true path. Whatever one calls these forces is irrelevant, for there are many, and so many in fact that most would find it difficult to fathom. These ‘tools that were taught to humanity via different mediums through rituals, esoteric arts, channeling etc, were just ways in which all these ‘beings, ‘entities, dark matter could invade and harvest under the guise of spirituality and truth seeking. Whatever gifts and knowledge bestowed was to serve their hidden objectives of our enslavement to ‘them. The purpose was to fool the soul so that people would not connect to their ‘Spirit Being or ‘Universal Frequency Template. In so doing, they were and have been able to hijack humanity and keep them away from the Center of their BEING, wherein everyone bears the Vital and ability to access everything without obstruction, corruption, manipulating forces nor astral interference. All of the differing tools used are essentially instruments for channeling the many ‘forces, 'principalities, Archontic, reptilian, alien/parasitic hierarchies etc. This information is not from the True Source in my experience, but rather a part of the programming matrix, which is to keep everyone deeply locked inside 'their elaborate prison farm, that is not just the world we live in, but the most powerful prison being layered upon minds and heart. In this way we are truly trapped if we continue to believe the holographic prison matrix and accept the version of reality that they are and have been controlling the masses to believe, see, smell, hear and live. They had to find ways to keep people trapped whom are waking up. They knew they could not stop the Universal energies in consegrity when such occurs, so what better way to keep the prisoners breaking out than to give them 'spiritual esoteric gifts, tools and instruments so as to keep them ensnared with even more hijacking attachments that would serve to keep them from the very truth they are seeking. This is the ouroboros, where upon no matter how much you seek, you will never truly get anywhere except more laden with attachments and new agreements of entrapment, so as to never escape the snake that is feasting upon you. The information will lure you further into deeper centers where hosting and invasion are a set up waiting. The seduction is in how the information makes a person 'FEEL, which is the key to how they operate. One must 'know thyself in order to discern the difference between the True Universal Source and the false light and manipulations of the invaders, hijackers and overseers. There are many drug-like affects they can induce upon us with everything, and language is one of the greatest spells cast to keep us rigged inside the web, even and especially when we are truth seeking. These inducements/attachments will keep one digging further and further inside the snake while simultaneously separating the seeker from 'Self, therefore the 'True Source. This of course is designed to keep us away from the very thing 'they fear the most which is Yourself = the Kingdom of the Universes. When many of these magical things are 'created to be a conduit of information transference under the guise of helping mankind connect to 'Spirit, then not only is the information corrupted, but it is corrupted because it comes with quantum levels of attachments, agreements and invaders, whose sources operate under ulterior hidden agendas. Such have nothing to do with helping us to become emancipated out of this harvesting prison recycling hell. I dont know if you have seen archontic parasites which are one example of the hordes at work here, but they love hosting people by making people feel a false sense of 'god, protection, guidance, psychic gifts, downloads, spiritism, blessings, euphoric holy spirit feelings, feelings of love, of things we ourselves 'feed from (list is too long), though in reality they are nothing but attachments that are only interested in vampirizing us eternally inside the great Harvester Ouroboros. The more we look outside ourselves and give into others realities, the more lost we will be until finally our Spirits will be so disconnected in that division of Being, that the soul will no longer have True Source discernment because it simply will not recognize 'itself in order to shatter the matrix of captivity. The Kingdom of God is Within You Not Outside of You https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1j-dtUgops The Untangled Gathering: AI & Mind Control Symposium: Know thy adversary Are You Ready To Integrate Your Origins in Being?The Energy Signature of the Universe ~ Overcoming TraumaThe earth is an illusion, including our earthen bodies. We ourselves are Toroidal energy like the earth (EA). Both function as a magnetic field that has a specific pattern, flow and design. This is a primary pattern that can be found in literally everything in the Universe, and is the most ancient of symbols cast within the mysteries of civilization. It is the prime design which is repeated in every aspect in both the micro and the macrocosms, from cells, seeds, animals, galaxies, cosmos, planets,humans, fauna, water and the design of how energy flows, sand, storms,fractals, the flower of life, flow of water, dreams and even how feelings energetically resonate in form and literally is withing the design of everything in the Universe. The inner and the outer are equal in mirroring their own reflection.It is a self-sustaining energy which is the Key that Issa (Jesus) tried to teach, in order to try and reclaim that which we lost through the 'fall- for those that can understand and disengage from the 'illusion, which traps the energy inside trauma, keeping us from the natural flow of the torus of life inside due to the captivity which has essentially hijacked this energy from our consciousness and instituted the endless programs of entrapment. All the while this self-sustaining 'force continues to manifest our illusion. (ill - us- ion). Language is a spell, so sometimes readers will note me breaking down words to reveal the deeper truths associated with them. In this way they can serve as an unlocking subconsciously.Few have entered this paradigm with the signature frequency, working with the self-sustaining endlessness of its power and altered time and space, but with the fall came the imbalance inside its own Force.This toroidal energy is what this world actually looks like because earth is an illusion. In its pure form this Force should enable us to harness, regenerate and transmute dying matter (our flesh and the condition of the fall of our consciousness, memory and Sovereignty) if we know how to utilize it. This energy is hugely symbolic and an indication of what we are, in eternal self sustaining never ending energy.All Creation is made out of the same substance.There is an equal flow to the inside and outside. The ideas we have about the earth and 'bodies however consist of the illusion that masks 'this energy at work.We are each surrounded by our own Toroidal energy, which explains why some of us are so charged and can affect technology around us, along with time and space. Each of our signatures is distinct, though simultaneously connected to the WHOLE (HOLE) of infinity, or rather the entire Sea of Energy that consists of the Universe/s. We are Kinetically (Kin - ET- Ic) relating to everything in this Universe whether we are aware of it or not, and because of our loss of 'self and amnesia we are not aware of how we are affecting time and space around us in co-creating this matrix.This is where it gets interesting because of what and whom we are co-creating this reality with. It is a result of the hijacking and the care-takers that stepped in, which comprise of all the keepers and rivaling factions of warring principalities. Hence many were exiled from the majority of the Universe as a result of their destructive power unleashed, creating many wars, which essentially united the universal planetary systems to oust and keep them from consuming and destroying more worlds.They found their way here due to the extraordinary nature of our small but endless 'universe matrix paradigm (US), and due to the condition of our will and 'fall, they legally and illegally hijacked us. Im simplifying what is utterly convoluted because we havent mentioned the 'black living consciousness, or anything beyond the topical, although these are entirely different topics for now.The Torus fields origin is the Heart and creates an arc out from the heart and boomerangs back to its origin in a continuous flow of this toroidal energy. I call this the axiom of heart and it extends from the pelvis to the head. Think of the Vitruvian Man and the chakra points which are the Tree of Life and the star of the Tetrahedron. The entire field is holographic with an outline in frequency. What this looks like is a shimmering outline containing the energy within. The outline is the 'field of what ever is housing the object. It can be literally read like mathematics if one can 'see it without the illusion of the hologram matrix superimposed.The torus creates sacred geometry and all physical anomalies that need to be deciphered like a mathematical equation, or is similar to listening to music. The energy flows and can be manipulated through the chakra system or Kundalini or rather the Serpent which is a key in symbolism that isnt always negative. The Serpent is the Flow design of the energy at work through living matter. The Serpent flow holds the secret 'flow of the torus in Creation, and is the origin of that 'flow of Life. The Serpent energy has been hijacked and this 'reality matrix with it.The chakras lock in 'experiences, which in turn create your aura, which in turn resonates a specific frequency of law and attraction. The field of energy and the Serpent flow connected to the chakras and psychic glands or (universes) are comprised of the original division that took place to create this current Universe and paradigm - that is the male and female. Therefore the torus fields typically have conflicting energies simultaneously, which are the male and female aspects of the Whole or Hole in opposition, one flowing in one direction while the other one flows in the opposite direction, both spinning towards the Southern polarity of consciousness or the Head.Now here is the key to the original imbalance- the Head or Southern polarity vs the pelvis or Northern polarity, relates to the male dominance imbalance and the female suppression creating the current imbalanced paradigm. This has created a vortex energy flux. As creators and co-creators, we have manifested the present 'illusion in what is our current Universe, and has to do with the loss of our Sovereignty in the imbalance of the feminine and masculine. A general loss of our identity occurred, whilst yet retaining the powers unconsciously of Creators. The Torus Field is a testimony of our creative powers in the eternal Energy and manifestation of worlds upon worlds, even though this is a holographic reality.Therefore healing must come from the Heart Center - the meridian between both sexes.This knowledge largely stems via experiences from my childhood, slipping inside the true matrix structure of the hologram- although I was too young to know or understand what I was seeing and experiencing. These experiences in essence served to be teacher of the matrix and the holographic nature of this paradigm, the true nature of our 'reality. These are concepts very difficult to explain in words with their limitations. I find it challenging, though I try my best to relay in translation.This is about overcoming trauma in every single way we can possibly imagine, because everything is energy. This is a key in understanding our Power, and how everything works within and outside of us. It is one and the same.Power is knowledge, though it is meaningless unless we use our Hearts in Love to grasp and seek the Universe (U- verse) which is within us principally in understanding and BEING. Only from there can we begin to break through the shards frozen inside the torus fields locking us up. We can never obtain truth from the origin of the divided 'self, which is where and how the enemies invade. This is the head where the many enemy forces rule, manipulate our E-Motions and implant thoughts. The heart however is where our Sovereignty and the Universe are One BEING, Unified in Love and operating the Flow of this endless self-sustaining Energy that is in and of ITSELF the key.Targeting & Meta-DestructionIt is interesting to receive confirmation of what we have each been targeted and tortured in, within a lifetime of enduring and endurance. These are years upon years of suffering multiple attacks on various levels, dimensions whilst living in the 'dream of this physical life, which is the illusion masking everything 'they are doing to us.I do believe that our genetic markers determine how we are utilized and to what depths they are able to stretch us into simultaneous realities, as we are hyper-dimensional beings and have an unlimited energy that is directly linked to the Source which 'they lack.These praying-mantis (preying on man) shape-shift through our own perceptions, literally placing inside our brains what 'they want us to see, thereby hiding themselves from us and the nature of the reality we are truly living. In this way, they not only hide from us, but have robbed us of our identities, memories, lifetimes and 'BEING. They literally have the ability to place us within a spell in such a way that we literally 'see what they position inside our minds to see, giving us cover memories, including years of manipulating our version of 'reality and what we are perceiving on many levels.The clarity of what we are each remembering is a true marker of us shifting out of the 'dream illusory world/s of their manipulation.I do not believe fear is natural to our Eternal Being, rather it is utilized as their principle modus operandi, to keep us locked inside the prison of continuous trauma, so as to prevent our own awakening out of their 'spell. This is largely what they implement against humanity, as well as manipulating set ups in the opposite to fear, rigging 'love, addictions, euphoria, co-dependency, and anything that is out of balance either positively or negatively. They inject fear into our being and try to make it our own as they are capable of inducing a Love Spell or 'LoveBite'as Eve Lorgen brilliantly exposed .When we peel away the layers, we see the illusory worlds cast upon our conscious and subconscious minds.to realize the lifetimes that have literally been stolen- a life lived inside the web of that thievery. This is likened to the movies 'Stepford Wives meets the 'Thirteenth Floor, and in infinite ways far worse because we have been living 'something elses lives. In that equation, we have been kept within a fractal prison/prism locked away from our own consciousness in truth.Behind the Mantis there is yet another 'force even greater, and behind that is yet another. When we discover the truth of it all, there will be a crossroads; a spectrum where two choices will manifest those realities once and for all, and for all time in timelessness.This ouroboros labyrinth, aka the human hijacking invasion take over appears infinite for we are infinite. Therefore how they have been using us/puppeteering us is in itself infinite.Such is a terrifying thought, as we step outside the illusory spells of invasion, wonderland and the literal parasitic condition of our 'life force, soul, Spirit, 'being and endless Lives that have been trapped inside the horror of this twisted cannibalism and total mindwarp spanning aeons.The goal is to return to what and who we are completely, without manipulation, to see realities that dont exist in order that we serve as automated batteries and slaves. How profound to have a world of 'Creators seduced within the spell of ill-us-ion whilst creating for our enemies the many realities, all of which trap us inside our own enslavement.Recalling these memories are vital for our struggle to integrate and burst through ever deepening layers of this diabolical invasion and complete hijacking of not just our bodies, minds, hearts, souls, Spirits, DNA, Lineages, past lives, but going into the far reaches of many dimensions, levels and the complete manipulation of time on all levels.I believe that we are serving to help one another in such a way, that we are accelerating such breakthroughs upon this internal journey of healing and integration. Still though, this isnt what we think it is, even in what we are made to believe in these breakthroughs. The Spell is deeply woven within multi-dimensional levels of our unique BEING. We are helping one another through this Universal excavation of our entire Being- inside the vortex reality of the Matrix.Isis and Osiris - The Ritual Sacrifice in CivilizationThe Phallus, Vagina and Dragon symbols are extremely prevalent across continents. Several examples are demonstrated in the Vatican, with many placed within various basilicas. The power grids and mind control underlay and overlays are right in front of our eyes,in all areas of society.The secret mystery schools are at the forefront of the world they have built for us- and through their symbols of captivity, we subliminally give power to them. This is equivalent to our being ritually sacrificed in our daily lives by virtue of existing within its matrix of power, and through agreements of entrapment. Whether consciously, unconsciously or through omission, we set and perpetuate our own imprisonment within their ritual energy vampiric ley lines of human consciousness and harvesting soul energies.We dont even realize we are making these agreements that are entrapping us, because 'they have literally embedded these symbols in society all around for thousands of years. We have literally inherited the inability to see what is right in front of our eyes from endless lifetimes and generations in subjugation of these mind controlling images and sacred ritual frequency invasive hooks.The worlds paramount preoccupation with sex is evident, not to mention Romes. The Vatican displays unabashed vaginal and phallic symbols within its principle design in architecture. Roman Catholic art is ubiquitous throughout history in its displays of art and architecture. There is no limit to the story within its imagery and the secrets it holds of pedophilia, rape, subjugation and sodomy are only but some of their very favorite things.Open your eyes. ~ https://www.texemarrs.com/032009/obsessed_with_sex.htm https://www.zengardner.com/isis-ploy-illuminati-sorcery-sac/ https://www.cuttingedge.org/news/n1866.cfm https://www.theforbiddenknowledge.com/symbology/5o5.htm Deep Love for each and every One of you Precious Infinite Powerful Beings. ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1j-dtUgops ~ Sovereignty Is Your Right & the Key To the Universe ~ It is YOU They Fear! https://veilofreality.com/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxg1AYNmu3I CABAL DARK FORCES ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ANNUNAKI PROJECT PHOENIX TAKE OVER https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=La3AiTmIWwY ANNUNAKI ANCIENT SUPER ADVANCED COMPUTER AI TECHNOLOGY

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