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loveforsatoru · 4 months

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Loved You Then, Love You Now- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (Chapter 1: Zenin Clan/Meeting)

TW: drinking, abuse, blood

3/31/07:

It’s pitch black outside. You’re struggling to make your way back to the Zenin estate. You’re coming back from a mission, one that was too difficult for you to handle as a grade 2 sorcerer yet you were forced to go regardless of that.

Growing up in a place as wretched as the Zenin Clan is already draining on its own, but being the sister of Naoya Zenin makes it even worse on top of the fact that you’re not a typical sorcerer. You specialize in the areas of RCT healing and martial arts. But what sets you aside from other healers is you’re able to regenerate larger parts of the body in a shorter amount of time. So naturally, you’re not qualified enough to be sent on missions meant for grades 1 or higher.

The mission went horribly. It was a semi grade 1 cursed spirit lurking in a nearby hospital. You took multiple blows, almost losing consciousness a few times. The only reason you managed to make it out was because you put every last ounce of strength and willpower into a single hit.

You’re almost crawling back to the estate, nearly falling to the ground from how much blood you’re losing, buckets of red staining the surface beneath you. There are numerous open wounds and multiple fractured bones. You’ve used RCT to heal minor injuries, but you’re losing an impeccable amount of blood with a large gash across your stomach, making it difficult to concentrate on healing yourself.

You’re hoping that nobody’s awake at the moment. You would never be able to live this down. You’re already belittled every day by the horrid men you’ve been forced to be around for the last 17 years. Thankfully, your father, Naobito allowed you to enroll to Jujutsu Tech after months of begging. You leave tomorrow.

Much to your demise, the lights in the large mansion are on and shuffling can be heard from the inside.

Your body can’t handle it anymore, you’re starting to see specks of white. Nothing feels real. You can’t even feel the clothes on your body anymore, only the blood soaking through them. You collapse on the grass, lying in a pool of your own blood.

The door is swung open and a voice you know and dread all too well hits your ears.

“You can’t take one simple fucking cursed spirit? You really are useless. I should’ve killed you the moment mom gave birth to you.” That voice only made you shake in fear. You could recognize it from miles away as none other than your nefarious older brother.

You can’t spout back a response, only coughing up blood. His degradation is humiliating. Your heart gets heavier with every word that leaves his mouth. He never fails to make you question your ability as a sorcerer.

He begins walking down the stairs, closer to where you are.

Each sound of his feet slapping against the concrete makes your blood run cold.

No, no, no ,no.

That’s the only thing running through your mind.

“Look at you. Nearly passed out like the weak bitch you are. You're good for nothing. You won’t make it out there.” His tone is piercing, full of disappointment and mockery. He finds it pathetic how hard you try again and again to prove yourself.

He kneels in front of you and grabs an angry fistful of your hair, yanking your head up. You can feel your brain banging against the side of your skull, causing you to groan out in pain.

He’s looking at you with nothing but hatred. He sees you as lower than scum, worthless with no purpose. To him, you’re just a waste of space.

“How can you call yourself a healer but can’t even save yourself? How will you save others? One day, you’ll watch the most important person in your life die right in front of you and it’ll be all your fault. Nobody told you to be fucking useless.”

He spits in your face and slams your head down on the ground which sends a painful shock throughout your entire body.

“Stop, Naoya! Stop it!” Your vocal cords feel like they’re tearing. It’s the first and last thing you’re able to scream at him before coughing up more blood, nearly throwing up your insides.

He releases his grip on your hair and stands up. For a moment, you begin to think he’s finally done tormenting you, but you couldn’t be more wrong. This wasn’t enough for him. He wants to see your soul crush and wither in front of his eyes.

He stares at your helpless body, about to beg him for help because you’re desperate to make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t care.

“Don’t open your mouth. Nobody’s going to help you. When will you realize you’re not wanted by anyone here? You’re lucky dad is sending you off to that stupid jujutsu school. He probably just wants to get rid of you. The only thing you can do is cook and fold laundry. Even so, you still don’t know your place in the clan or the world. You’re a woman. That’s all you’ll ever be. You won’t be desired for who you are because you're nobody. If you get lucky, a man might keep you around as a house pet to do his chores.”

Disgust, hatred, disappointment, anger.

They’re the only things he’s ever spoken to you with ever since you were little. The older you grew, the more he resented you. The slaps and pinches turned into kicks and blows to the face, smashing your head against the wall whenever he got the chance.

You can’t do anything but stare right back up at him, barely being able to make out the scowled expression on his face due to your hazy vision. Tears spill from your eyes, mixing with the dirt smeared on your cheeks.

He kicks you once.

Twice.

Three times.

Stepping on your broken ribs, he watches your face contort into one of pure pain and misery, unable to cry or shout because your throat is filled with nothing but blood.

“You’d better have your shit packed. I want you out of the house by noon sharp tomorrow. If you aren’t, I’ll make sure the rest of your life is a living hell.” He walks away, slamming the door of the estate, leaving you to rot outside.

He means his words and you know it. There isn’t an ounce of a lie in there.

Your body feels sore all over. There are stabbing sensations, burning, and aches in every part of you. You almost feel disappointed in yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you are useless. Look at you, dissolving in your blood, sweat, and tears.

You push your feeble body off the ground and crawl towards the stairs. Every limb in your body is screaming at you to stop and lay down, but you refuse.

…

After an agonizing 10 minutes, you get to the door. You reach up towards the doorknob and twist it open with your nimble fingers. Instantly, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol. It makes you nauseous and your nose twitches at the strong scent.

You look to your side to find your dad knocked out. There’s beer bottles everywhere, some of it spilling on the floor. He never changes. You doubt he ever will.

You wonder if Naoya’s right. Is your dad sending you to Jujutsu Tech for the sole purpose of getting rid of you? He never particularly expressed any hatred towards you, but he wasn’t there for you either. Everytime Naoya would torment you, your father would simply watch with empty eyes, like the sight of his young daughter being tossed around by her older brother didn’t bother him. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe he was too drunk out of his mind to care. Maybe he just didn’t love you. Naoya is the one he cares about, not you.

Sometimes you wish you could be loved by others too.

Am I unlovable?

You’ve been asking yourself that for as long as you can remember.

You were getting lost in your thoughts, staring at the sight of your passed out drunk father, silently asking him to love you until a sharp pain was felt in your abdomen. You wince out in pain and have to hold back the scream bubbling in your throat.

You’re still laying on the floor in a crawling position when you look back and see the trail of blood from the front door to where you are in the living room.

The sight makes you dizzy, you had never seen or lost so much blood.

You try as hard as you can to make it to the bathroom and when you do, it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You lean into the bathtub, turning the water on before stripping off your blood soaked clothes. You could wring it out and it’d be enough to fill gallons.

You look in the mirror and examine your body. A gash across your stomach, black eye, bruised lip, cuts and scabs make its way from your head to your toes. You look almost unrecognizable, a whole new person. You’d prefer it if you were. You want to be anyone but yourself right now. It’s pitiful in the worst way possible.

The entire estate is silent, everyone’s asleep. The only sound heard is the water filling up the tub.

The moonlight directly hits the bathroom window, shining down on your body and highlighting the things you wish you could erase.

The scar Naoya left on your body all those years ago won’t go away no matter how hard you try to remove it from both your body and your memory. It’s imprinted into your skin, a sign of weakness and a constant reminder that your brother never has and never will love you.

*Flashback*

It was the summer of 1995. You were 5 years old, Naoya was 14.

It was hot, too hot to stay inside all day. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the usually dark mansion. Summer was your favorite season, but now you think, no, you’re sure it’s your least.

Being the naive 5 year old you were, you had the idea to ask your “beloved” older brother to spend some time with you. Nobody else gave you attention. Who in the Zenin Clan would pay attention to the little girl who couldn’t do anything besides heal a couple cuts and small animals? You were too young and dumb to realize Naoya thought the same way.

“Naoya! Naoya! Let’s go play outside!” You eagerly opened his door to find him lying in bed, air conditioner set to the max whilst he aimlessly read a book on how to get stronger.

“No, you’re annoying. Go away.” His response was plain and blunt, but being as persistent as ever, you didn’t give up. You were dying to spend time with someone, talk to someone who wasn’t yourself.

“Please, please, please! It’s so hot outside! We can play with water balloons!”

Your whining and feet stopping on the wooden floor almost made a vein pop out of his head. Everything you did irked him.

“No! Stop talking to me! Go find something else to do with your pathetic life instead of bothering me! Make some fake food in the kitchen. It’s all you’re decent at.”

You grumble and walk further into his room, trying to find a way to get him to change his mind.

He glares at you, unwilling to cooperate or put up with this any longer.

Your stupid big eyes, and short h/c hair that barely passed your shoulders, unknowing to all the shit people said about you to your face and behind your back. You were only a kid, but that didn’t stop them. In their book, if you weren’t strong from birth and/or lacked a “real” cursed technique, you were useless. You, unfortunately fit into those categories.

You were clueless, only staring back at those who dehumanized you with a smile on your face, happy that you were receiving some sort of attention even if it was negative.

You had a doll in one hand and a teacup in the other. You were more than likely playing by yourself in your room before barging into his.

“What are you doing?” He asks, but you don’t respond. You were now sitting on his bed, stirring up a way to convince him into going with you. Bribery? Annoyance? Whining? Nothing would work on him. He was dead set on keeping you away from him as far as possible. So far, he wouldn’t be able to sense your presence within a 15 mile radius.

“Who said you could sit on my bed? Get the hell off!” He pushes you with his foot with enough force to knock you off, landing straight on the floor.

You let out a “hmph” and climb back on, arms folded over your chest.

“Why won’t you just play with me? I wouldn’t be sitting on your bed if you did.” You whined, a big pout replacing your previous expression.

“Because I hate you.” He said the words so casually, his eyes boring into your soul.

You blinked at him, unfamiliar with the newfound feeling of dread and sadness. Instead of just smiling back like you normally would, you began to cry. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, landing onto his bed. Hearing those words come from him hurt more than it did from anyone else. You knew what the word “hate” meant, and having it thrown at you by the one you looked up to most hurt your small, fragile heart.

He didn’t console you, nor did he apologize. Instead, He grabbed your arm and pinched you with all his might, the flesh instantly bruising.

You only continued to cry more, dropping your things on the ground, the teacup shattering as water spilled out and onto his bedroom floor. It made him angrier. He pushed you out of his room and into a glass table in the dining room, shoving you into it. The table broke on impact from the amount of sheer force he was handling you with. A piece got stuck in the area where he pinched you. Blood trickled down your arm as your cries turned into wails. You sat on the floor, surrounded by glass as your high pitched voice could be heard throughout the entire estate, but nobody came to check on you. They didn’t care enough to do so.

You were looking up at Naoya, clutching your arm, expecting an apology, but it never came. He landed a harsh slap across your face before going back into his room.

You sat in disbelief. It was the most hurtful thing anyone did to you.

*End Flashback*

And here you stood, 12 years later, examining that same mark that’s forever ingrained into you.

You hate it, you hate this life, you hate it here, you hate Naoya.

You wish you could crawl out of your skin and bury yourself away in a hole.

The more you look at your face in the mirror, the more distorted your reflection becomes. You’ve lost complete sense of yourself. Who even are you? Can you call yourself a sorcerer? When was the last time you saved someone? Will this twisted fate of being unable to help those around you follow you throughout your life?

You have no one to go to, no one to confide in, no one to open up to. It’s been like this your whole existence. You, alone, isolated. You hope this won’t last forever. You’ll get on your knees and beg the Heavens above to give you some sort of mercy if you have to. Take away your suffering, your pain, the thoughts that consume you entirely from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep. You deserve to get what you want. You crave and desire genuine connection. Someone to love and someone to love you back just as much or maybe even more.

Haven’t you been through enough?

…

You hastily step inside the bathtub, watching as the water turns a shade of red due to the blood seeping from your body.

You skin into the warm water, slightly hissing at the feeling, but your muscles immediately loosen. You let the water envelope you, your head being the only thing above it.

You trace your fingers over the cuts, some deeper than others. Slowly, you gently run the palm of your hand over your injuries, using RCT to heal yourself.

Negative energy, multiply that against itself, resulting in positive energy. Reverse cursed technique, something not many sorcerers can do. It’s a blessing and a curse.

You stare up at the bathroom ceiling, letting your mind wander to what your life will turn out to be like once you finally make it to Jujutsu Tech tomorrow afternoon. Anything would surely be better than the life you’re currently living.

…

You finish taking your bath, making sure to wash away every grime collected on your body. Quietly, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off before making your way to your room, tip-toeing so as to not wake anyone up. Your dad is still slumped over the kitchen counter and everyone else is in their respective rooms. It’s a miracle nobody had gotten up.

Your room is the furthest down the estate, a deliberate decision made by Naoya to continue your suffrage in the most mundane ways possible.

Water droplets slide down your body, making contact with the floor.

Drip

It was as if any miniscule noise would cause the estate to crumble into nothing.

You pull open the creaky door and hurry inside, quickly closing it. You walk over to your bed and toss your body onto it. A breath of relief escapes your lips the second you make contact with the soft mattress.

You get under the covers, not bothering to fully dry yourself off before drifting into a deep sleep, hoping for a better tomorrow.

4/1/07:

It’s currently 4:36am, the sun is barely out yet. You made sure to get up bright and early in order to catch the first train and to avoid bumping into any of the other Zenin’s.

You’re already dressed, wearing the uniform that came in the mail not too long ago. A perfect fit. Your suitcase is packed and ready to go. You’ve never been happier. It’s the first time in a while you’ve found excitement in your days.

You say goodbye to your room, parting ways with the place you spent most of your time in. Playing dolls, watching movies, talking to yourself, consoling yourself as you cried time and time again.

It’s bittersweet.

But you suck up a breath and make your way out, going down the hall.

All the doors are shut, indicating that everyone is still asleep.

Besides your father who’s waiting at the front door. You can’t decipher the expression on his face. He doesn’t look angry, drunk, or annoyed.

You stand across from him, not knowing what to say. For a second, you’re worried he’s going to stop you from leaving.

You open your mouth, ready to argue with all your might, but his next words surprise you.

“Good luck.” They’re simple, but speak volumes.

Growing up, you didn’t speak much to your dad. He was either busy or drunk. It didn’t leave much opening to communicate with him. It’s not like he wanted to either. Sometimes, it seemed he’d intentionally avoid you like you were some sort of plague that would infect him if he got too close.

So, standing here, face to face with the man who failed you as a father while he tells you good luck with your new life means more than he’ll know.

You nod, a small smile creeping onto your face as your eyes crinkle the tiniest bit.

He takes a step towards you, patting your shoulder and moving aside from the door, giving you the green light to go on and find yourself in the new world, one where you won’t be abused, belittled, or doubted.

And so you do, running out the door and officially leaving everything in the past.

You take one last look behind you, watching as the scenery gets smaller and smaller, fading away into the distance. One you hope you won’t ever have to come back to.

Your smile grows wider as the sounds of the wheels on your luggage rolling against the concrete fills your ears. Another reminder that this is reality and not a dream you’ll have to eventually wake up from.

You navigate the streets of Tokyo, not as busy as they normally would be due to your early rising.

You head towards the train station, waiting for the train to arrive.

To get from Koganei to Jujutsu Tech takes about 2 hours. Despite both locations being in Tokyo, you’ve heard the school is in the far outskirts, surrounded by trees and mountains.

The thought of it all is enough to make your adrenaline rush and heart pump with anticipation.

…

After impatiently waiting for 30 minutes, the train finally arrives and you’re the first to get on, grabbing a seat in the far back of the train.

It’s pretty much empty aside from 2 boys wearing the same uniform who look to be about a year younger than you. One had blonde hair, keeping a stoic demeanor while the other was the complete opposite. Brown hair with the widest smile as he rambles on to the other boy.

You pay no mind, not wanting to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Instead, you put in your headphones and decide to listen to music on the way there. There’s not much else to do.

…

The train is silent for the most part aside from the occasional blabber and laughter coming from the brown haired boy from earlier. You could hear him through your headphones, but you couldn’t be bothered since you were nearly dozing off, eyelids threatening to shut. You didn’t get much sleep last night. Three hours at most.

Right when you fully slumped against the seat, taking in a breath and closing your eyes, you felt something or rather, someone poking you.

You take out an earbud and to no surprise, it’s the same boy. He’s made himself comfortable next to you while the blonde one reads a book, seemingly wanting to be left in peace.

“Hi!” He beams, his cheery voice echoing throughout the train.

“Hello?” You reply, slightly confused at his antics.

“I noticed we’re heading to the same place and was wondering if you wanted to sit with us! My name is Yu Haibara and that one over there is Nanami! But he’s rather grumpy today.” He leaned in closer and whispered the last part, thinking he was being discrete, but even his whispers were loud and full of energy, earning a groan from the blonde who you’ve discovered goes by Nanami.

You let out a chuckle at his excitement to be talking to a stranger on a train.

“My name's y/n.” You smile and hold out your hand which he happily shakes.

“Cool! What year are you going into?”

“Third.” You reply, holding up a 3 with your fingers.

“Aw, that's a bummer. We’re first years.” You watch as his expression quickly falls into a frown, disappointed that he won’t be in the same grade as the pretty girl he met only 5 minutes ago.

“It’s okay, I’m sure we’ll see each other around!” You give him a thumbs up in which he blushes and reciprocates. Nanami pays no attention to either of you, immersed in whatever he’s reading.

The train suddenly comes to a stop and you look out the window, your eyes glimmering at the sight. It’s beautiful. You’ve never seen trees this green or mountains this huge. It’s not like you ever went outside the central city anyway unless it were for a mission. Even then, nothing compared to this.

You hurriedly rush out of the train and Haibara follows fast behind while Nanami takes his time.

“Wow! This is great! But how do we get to the school building?” You ask, confusion laced in your tone. Is there another bus?

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe we’re supposed to wait down here until a teacher gets us?”

You both stand there like idiots, hands on your hips as you examine the unfamiliar area, pondering on how you’re possibly going to get to your desired destination.

Nanami sighs and rolls his eyes, in disbelief at how two teenagers could be so senseless.

“We clearly have to walk up it.”

You and Haibara let out dramatic gasps, hands slapped over your foreheads.

“Are you kidding me?!” You’re exasperated. You figured that coming to a fancy, rich, Jujutsu Tech school meant you’d have some sort of transportation to get up there.

“Yeah, that’s way too much!” Haibara pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, but Nanami is already too far ahead to hear either of you complain. He thinks he’s gonna die if he has to listen to you two talk any longer.

You and Haibara both give each other a look, shaking your heads in disappointment before following behind Nanami, running as fast as you can before he gets too far ahead. You’d definitely lose yourself trying to get around this place.

…

You and Haibara are practically panting the more you walk up the bone killing mountains while Nanami barely breaks a sweat.

“How is he able to be so composed?” You ask yourself.

Thankfully, the three of you made it after not much longer. Your jaw drops at how nice the campus is. It’s even better than you could've imagine.

Gawking over the gorgeous architecture, you see three other students out in the distance. Haibara wastes no time running up to them, introducing himself like he did with you.

You quietly follow him, curious to meet the other students.

There’s a girl with short brown hair and a cigarette in between her lips, a beauty mark nicely decorates her cheek. She’s talking to two other boys who seem to be arguing over something.

“I'm saying you need to be more humble and polite. You haven’t even greeted the new students yet.” The quiet voice came from one of the two boys. He has sleek black hair and a liquid smooth tone.

“Huh?! What are you talking about? Let loose a little. It won't kill you.”

The moment you look up to see who was speaking, heat rushes into your cheeks. Fluffy white hair, the most sparkling blue eyes, a jaw sharp enough to cut paper and beautifully striking features. His eyes are so captivating. It’s like you’re standing in the presence of an angel.

“Hello? Helloooo?” The white haired boy is directly in front of your face, leaning down to make direct eye level contact with you.

“Are you there? Cat got your tongue?” He teases before stepping back, giving you some room to breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous.” You breathe out, a shaky chuckle escaping your lips.

“Nervous, yeah? Why?” The same one replies, taking out a piece of chocolate from his pocket and plopping it in his mouth.

The black haired boy chimes in. “Don’t listen to him. There’s no need to be nervous. I’m assuming you’re a first year?"

“No.. I’m a third year.” You stammer over your words, nearly choking on your own saliva. You were never the type to get butterflies around guys, but this is unreal.

You watch as both men quirk their eyebrows, surprised at your answer.

“Third year? That means you’re with us. I’m Suguru, this is Satoru, and she’s Shoko.” What an attractive friend group. It seems like they’ve known each other for a while.

“I’m y/n..”

“Y/n. A pretty name for an even prettier girl. Since it’s your first time here, we’ll give you a tour.” Satoru says, giving you a wink as his lips curl into a charming smirk.

You look around and see that Haibara’s nowhere to be found. You were at least comfortable with him. Now, you’re stuck with people you can hardly speak around, including a freakishly handsome blue eyed boy who, unknowingly to you, has had his sights on you from the moment you made your way up the mountain.

Little does he know, his best friend has the same intentions.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk angst #rambles #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #geto x reader #suguru x reader

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jaspersreprise · 1 month

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Connecting with your spirit guides

Hello, before I go on and about the information here, I just want you to know that I am sharing knowledge coming from a book called “The Witches Way”, published by Leanna Greenaway and Shawn Robbins :) It’s particular penchant is mainly Wiccan, but the books purpose it serves is a guide to modern-day witchcraft. I’m here to divulge information for our fellow beginner witches, who are still educating through their practice and journey, just like the majority of the witches that mentors and teaches. Although, this posts purpose is probably not aimed to how to start getting into your spiritual journey, but it could be something you’d want to learn later on. I hope you understand. But of course, I’ll post the essentials about how to start and where to start. Keep on learning little witchlings!! <33

Your guide will never want to frighten you, so it is unlikely that they will suddenly appear before your eyes in the cold light of day. To reach a successful connection, you must be prepared to experience a deeper level of consciousness. It can take a lot of practice to perfect, and only when you are at an advanced state in the meditative process can you begin to see visions.

These will usually occur when you are in the middling stage between sleep and wakefulness or in the moments before you wake up. You might also want to keep a motepad and pen next to your bed, as it is common to be told relevant information in dream sleep.

From Leanna Greenaway/Shawn Robbins, „Over the years and with a lot of practice, I have mastered the art of connection. For me, it’s like looking at a screen, a bit like a video recording. The background is black and the images appear with gold edges. The pictures move like they would in a video and last anywhere between one and three minutes. Prior to the visions, I sometimes hear a ringing sound, a bit like tinnitus but not as annoying. This is when I know my soul is turning into a higher frequency and I have finally connected.”

Read on for simple tips and steps to help you achieve a connection with your spirit guide

Items to have nearby

Crystals are very good to dot around the house, as they balance the energies in a room and can also help you to ground yourself. The seven crystals below are good if you want to promote successful meditation. I recommend that you house these stones somewhere in the bedroom. There is no need to spend a fortune on them when purchasing; small, polished versions, or tumble stones, can work just as well as large, more-expensive pieces. The choice is yours.

Angelite , used for summoning guides and angels

Amethyst , a calming stone sed to enhance psychic ability and meditation

Clear quartz , amplifies healing energy; known as the master healing stone

Rose quartz , good for relieving stress and tension; restores the aura by replacing negative energy with positive energy, boosts a live vibration

Black tourmaline , a ground stone that connects the Earth with the human spirit; aligns with chakras

Aventurine , energises the Heart Chakra for wellbeing and emotions

Carnelian , improves concentration during meditation

Mindful meditation

People begin with a series of meditation techniques when first trying to connect to their spirit guides. Before embarking on any spirit communication, it is imperative that you meditate for at least thirty minutes.

Lots of people find it hard to meditate for thirty minutes, but once you get the hang of if, it’s very easy. Those of you who have researched meditation will know there are hundreds of ways to get into a meditative state. There is also a wealth of information online that can help you find the right method for you.

If you choose to perform your meditation during the waking hours, select a crystal and hold it in your hand. If you want to use all of them in your meditation, sit and space the stones in a circle around the base of the chair you’re using or on the floor, should you choose to go without a chair.

If you hope to meditate during your sleeping hours, situate the stone(s) either under the bed or next to wherever you are sleeping. Make sure the house is quiet and sit or lie in the lotus position (sitting with legs crossed and hands on knees) as depicted in some books just make sure that you are cozy, snug, and completely relaxed. People find lying in the fetal position, under the covers, in their bed the best position. You might prefer to lie on your back or sit upright; it’s completely up to you!

First, concentrate on every part of your body, starting with your feet. Relax the feet, focusing on each toe being completely floppy, then work up the body to the ankle, calf muscles, and so fourth. Your aim is to be totally still, allowing yourself to become calm and tranquil. When you get to the area below the waist, hold a pelvic floor exercise for ten seconds, then clench your buttocks for a few seconds and relax. When you get to the top part of your body, raise your shoulders up toward your neck for five seconds before releasing them. You will feel a tingling sensation as they fall back to their usual position. Take your time. By the time you reach your facial muscles, you should be feeling extremely relaxed. Second, breathe steadily, either through your nose or mouth — whichever is most comfortable. Take a deep, slow breath inward and then exhale slowly. Repeat this for a few minutes or until you start to feel weightless. Clear your mind. Behind your closed eyes, focus in the darkness you see. See if you can pick out any shapes or lights.

Ask questions

At this stage, you should be in a meditative state, so now is the time to ask your guides for information. In your mind, ask your guide a series of questions, focusing on each question for a few minutes.

„I would like my guide to visit me. Are you there? Can you show yourself to me?

You might see patterns and shapes behind your eyes or feel a strange sensation of belonging. The experience is different for everyone. If you don’t feel anything, don’t be disheartened. Remember, some guides will not show themselves to you while uou are awake and might wait until a time when you are asleep. They know you better than you know yourself and may think that you are not ready to receive them in a conscious state.

„Please show me your gender. Are you male, female, or nonbinary?”

At this point, you must tune in physically and trust your inner thoughts and instincts. Imagine you are standing in front of a being. Tap into the energies and trust your very first answer.

„can you tell me your name, please?”

It might take several meditations before you receive this answer, but, once again, trust those instincts—you have them for a reason. Allow your imagination to expand. Your guides name may not come quickly or even come to you at all when meditating. You might be given the name a few days later, so look out for signs. If, during the following days, you hear the same name repeatedly, perhaps on TV or the radio, it could be your guide nudging you gently. Alternatively, you might wake up one morning with a clear name in your head.

Once you have your guides name, you are on your way to connecting with them fully. If you are serious about making a connection with your guide, you must meditate every night before going to sleep. People often fall asleep during meditation; this is quite alright. When you arrive at a meditative state, your vibration rises and your energy starts to change and evolve. It does take lots of practice, so never give up. After a while you will be able to slip into this relaxed state quickly and summon your guide as needed.

Thank you for reading this. For all the beginner witches out there, I hope you grow more and more accustomed to your spiritual journey, and find your own path 🤍 please remember that you can find your own path to witchcraft — there’s no set formula, just a bunch of practices that you can choose to use. Witchcraft can be used for anything — from protection to success in certain aspects of life. If you want to know more, you may check out my quotev or tiktok account. I have posted information relating to these topics there, but I’m posting irregularly. Especially my tiktok account, I don’t really post there anymore 💔 but the works are still there.

tiktok acc: bthsheba

quotev: jaspersreprise

Simple acc names! :) goodbye now!

#The witches way #Shawn Robbins #Leanna Greenaway #Information #educational #witchcraft #wiccan #modern day witchcraft #Beginner witch #spirit guides #spiritual journey

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talonabraxas · 2 months

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Mystic Eye Talon Abraxas

Ajna Chakra

In the forehead, between the eyebrows, lies the two-petaled lotus, Ajna chakra. It shines like the bright moon, and its two petals vibrate with the sounds ham and ksham. Devi Hakini resides in the center of the Ajna chakra. White as the moon and with a pure mind (shuddha chitta). She has six heads and four arms that hold an hourglass-shaped drum, a skull, a jnana mudra (gesture of knowledge) and a japa mala.

The subtle mind (mana) resides in the Ajna chakra. A Shiva lingam called Itarakhya resides within it. It shines like a thunderbolt and is the abode of realization of supreme knowledge, including the vedas. It is also from here that one perceives the Brahma nadi, which connects the Muladhara to the Sahasrara chakra.

The bija mantra for Ajna chakra is AUM, also known as Pranava. It is said that one should meditate on this bija mantra with a steady mind. One should meditate on the Ajna chakra with devi Hakini, a glowing mind, a shining Shiva lingam, and AUM bija mantra. The meditator can perceive the Brahma nadi if he or she meditates this way with stillness and with his or her gaze turned inward.

By meditating on the Ajna chakra one becomes all-knowing, all-perceiving, a benefactor to all, all-powerful like Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, who are responsible for creation, regulation, and dissolution, respectively.

Between the eyebrows in the Ajna chakra is the soul, which is as bright as the tip of a flame and vibrates with the primordial sound of AUM. Above that is a bright young moon with a bindu (letter of sound ma) from which the unstruck sound of AUM is derived. This bindu shines like the rays of the moon.

Swami Hamsa swaroop maharaj describes an important doorway to the soul in his translation of Sat Chakra Nirupana. By holding the Niralamba mudra, which can be learned only from a guru, and by meditating on the place where the primordial sound of AUM originates, one experiences the light of the soul or highest spirit.

Next, Sat Chakra Nirupana discusses the importance of Ajna chakra at the end of life. One who meditates on the Ajna chakra at the end stage of life and surrenders the prana with devotion between the eyebrows, i.e. at the bindu from where the primordial sound originates, merges with the supreme consciousness.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 8 Verse 10, Shri Krishna says to Arjuna

prayaanakaale manasaachalena bhaktyaa yukto yogabalena chaiva |

bhruvormadhye praanamaaveshya samyak sa tam param purushamupaiti divyam || 10 ||

At death, with devotion, an unwavering mind, and the power of yoga, he who surrenders the Prana in the middle of the eyebrows, attains that supreme divine person.

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vyl3tpwny · 2 years

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ANTONYMPH (Vylet Ponystep Remix)

art by @astroeden

—

So I just released my remix of Antonymph, and you can read my original Tumblr post about the original song here if you want to.

There's a lot of substantial stuff going on under the surface with this remix that can be broken down into two major things:

Breaking out of burnout

Fulfilling a childhood wish

The former of these things is something that I've been dealing with since the release of CUTIEMARKS. I suppose I don't necessarily mean I've been experiencing burnout in that I haven't been working on stuff. Rather, the response to CUTIEMARKS (especially seeing the reviewbombing done over RateYourMusic) left me feeling like I wasn't quite good enough for some reason.

I think I'm good enough though, I don't think this feeling occurs because there's any merit in these thoughts. Rather, I feel oddly self conscious now about appealing to the more widespread music critic world. A lot of music in the spaces I create in (namely electronic dance music) is often looked down upon in the 'higher echelons of music enjoyment'. Paired with the fact that I do very colourful pony music, it makes me a rather big target for people to come down on.

Going into making Fish Whisperer, I specifically set out to make a project that would both criticize and appeal to the critical music consensus. I've done my part in doing that, now, and I feel more able to try and work through these feelings of self consciousness. This remix is one of the first things to aid me in doing that. It ties in very heavily with the fact that it's a style of dubstep that has been considered "uncool" and out of trend since probably 2015 or 2016. It's a really melodic, complextro-ey, Bend +/- growl type of song.

I used to try making this style of dubstep rather often. However, a quick tour through my discography revealed to me that I actually never completed and released something in this style for the near decade I've been releasing music publicly. I came to this realization only after I had actually completed the remix. This takes me to the second point I established, in that I am now fulfilling a childhood wish.

It's a huge deal to me to finally release something in this style of music. I haven't really innovated on it much and it's hardly more than the sum of its inspirations, but it also makes me super happy anyway. I was not skilled enough or had the attention span to actually accomplish a song like this when I was younger, and when I finally was able to, it was already out of style and not worth pursuing at the time.

So here I am pursuing it.

I think the whole thing of trends in the EDM community is really annoying actually. In some cases in can drive new ideas to new heights, but it can also really oversaturate other things even though there are really cool things to support it. Things like Big Room and Future Bass are considered really cheesy and silly right now, but I think that's because nobody is innovating on those things and making them fresh. I think that needs to happen, I want to see lots of genres become consistently innovated and reimagined. You see this happening widespread with a lot of genres that seem to have this trend agreed upon, like the rise of breakbeat inspired stuff in the indie electronic scene again. I think we should just consistently innovate things. Sound is kind of infinite, so it's always possible.

Anyway. The Antonymph spirit of everything is to create things for yourself and to feel as whimsical and in love with the smaller things in life as possible. I think I'm going to do a lot more music that is considered out of style and not very trendy in the EDM community. And I definitely need to regain my ability to not care what critical people think of my work. I can improve the fundamental stuff on my own time. If people really get upset at me for the styles and content matter that I write about, so be it. I'm writing for the weirdo in the corner of a school dance, not the people dancing.

Love you poniez.

P.S; the art that @astroeden made was inspired by the galaxy dubstep cat that showed up in every other dubstep compilation in 2014 or something. (You can see the full art on her page instead)

#vylop #antonymph #fluttgirshy #mlp #my little pony #fim

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darkened-storm · 13 days

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Mayblade Day 1: Lights

The stadium lights were blinding when she stepped out onto the stadium floor amidst the cheers and excited shouts of the crowd. She looked down at her right hand. Her midnight blue HMS beyblade sparkled, showing off the brand new attack ring Kenny had installed in the locker rooms only minutes earlier. He had promised her it would be good enough to stand up to Carlos. She desperately hoped he was right. In the centre of the beyblade, the emblem of the dragon shone brightly. Vaguely, she heard the referee’s announcement, calling the competitors to the dish. She took a breath, and then she stepped forward as the crowd around her erupted into cheers of excitement and anticipation. This is it, the anxious voice inside her head told her. It was time to prove to the world what she could do. Her teammates were already assembled and waiting for her. It had been Kai’s decision to change the line up at the last minute - with a draw and a loss behind them, her captain knew they were backed into a corner. Now her teammates were counting on her to keep them in the game. As she approached the bench, Max and Tyson each patted her on the back and shared words of encouragement. Ray gave her arm a gently squeeze as Becky pressed her launcher and ripcord into her hands. “You can do this,” she said, her voice full of determination and confidence in her cousin’s abilities. She glanced in Kai’s direction and her captain nodded wordlessly before her coach pulled her aside. Hiro placed his hands on her shoulders. “Remember Steph,” he told her. “Your beyblade is like an extension of yourself. Believe that it’s good enough to defeat Carlos. Believe that you are good enough to beat him.” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You won’t lose.” She nodded her head. “Okay, coach.” She didn’t look to the stands as she approached the dish - she knew he would be there watching her. Slowly, she ascended the steps to the area, her anticipation building as she climbed higher, higher until she could see across the field to her opponent. The announcer’s voice echoed through the stadium. "And the hopes of the entire team rest on the shoulders of their Vice Captain. If they don’t win this round, the Bladebreakers will lose the match and their chance at the Championship title." She clipped Seraphina securely into her launcher, the rip cord held tight in her hands. Across from her, Carlos stood ready, his beyblade held over the dish, a menacing look on his face. “Beybladers at the ready,” Jazzman told them. Steph took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt the spirit of the bitbeast inside her beyblade gently brush against her consciousness, reassuring her that she was not in this fight alone and when she opened her eyes again, she could no longer the sounds of the crowd or the jeers from the Bladesharks’ bench. This was her moment. She took her stance, beyblade and launcher poised over the stadium and waited for Jazzman’s count. Three. Two. One … Let it Rip!

#steph summers #beyblade fanfiction #beyblade #mayblade #mayblade2024 #mayblade 2024

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whoppert · 2 months

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SUNNA 10 (loki/reader) (stephen strange/reader)

◂ previous chapter first chapter ▴

4945 words

warnings: the after effects of mind violation; canon-typical violence. minor gore; depictions of wounded animals

AO3 MASTERPOST

With that, we see the world through Loki's eyes . . . .

Another step towards the shirking Midgardian.

The right side of my face relinquishes the sting for a long steady burn. Oh, I don’t blame her for the slap, not really, she’s shown a penchant for explosive bouts of emotion, but the unexpected pain makes the uncivilized part of my mind react murderously.

"I'm sorry," she says, hands out in apology. "I'm sorry for hitting you."

I actively reel in the desire to kill her. I am provoking her for more than one reason, I remind myself. I need her mad. “I am willing to admit, transfiguring into the sorcerer was perhaps a bit harsh-”

She stops backing away unexpectedly, and I almost collide with her.

Her shoulders draw back, face contorting with anger. “A bit harsh? A bit harsh!? Are men not taught manners in Asgard? God, why are you such a fucking tool?”

AO3

"You know nothing of my background, I think all Asgardians are tools in one way or another.” I match her energy, each one of us refusing to back down, glaring at each other. Good. “I apologize if I upset you, but it certainly wasn’t personal. All in the spirit of fun.”

“That wasn’t personal? If you upset me?”

"That is what I said."

She is genuinely flabbergasted. "God, you're such a-! What did I ever do to you?"

"What do you mean? I'm here! Against my will! Fixing your mess." I gesture around us. This I genuinely believe. This is not my mess.

She's waving her hands in the air in front of her. "Woah, woah, what? You're still half responsible bud! I need you to be like so for real right now, this is your mess." Right fingers tap on her left palm in beat with her words.

“If I caused you harm it was indirect, I'll admit that much culpability, but I have been practicing magic for longer than your bloodline has existed. There's never been a problem before.” It's true.

“Indirect?” She's almost nose to nose with me on the sloped ground.

"Yes, indirect. If you hadn't been enchanted, then my involvement wouldn't have resulted in this. The enchanter - that is where fault lies."

"Okay? You can't just go into people's heads like that!" She's infuriated. I can feel it, feel all her emotions, hear it in all her thoughts. So... so close.

"Huh. Why can't I? Tell me, I implore you." I know how to sound audibly arrogant. I know the affect that has on someone already frustrated.

"You don't really plan to listen, Loki. We met, and granted I was a little rude, but who just meets someone and then stages a whole shitty diversion just to break into their head? How entitled do you have to be to do that to a person?"

Mind magic is a complicated thing. While I'm in her head I'm bonded to her. When entering a truly fragile mind, it's necessary to bond the guest consciousness to the host, it makes it easier to read the connections and to heal broken bonds. It tricks her mind into thinking I am one and the same. My magic will linger on her for days afterwards, stopping her mind from rejecting the supplementing power.

Such a long time has it been since I have attempted to heal a mind... I have been quite unprepared, forgotten what it is to feel as another feels, hear what another thinks without escape.

It means I feel the throbbing of her pain. I don't like it.

"Do you really think that that's okay?”

I am forced to steel myself. There is a higher purpose to this. Her pain as long as I feel it is my pain, and it makes me want to bite like a wounded dog. I channel that feeling, as I have done so for a millennia - from lashing teeth to a single precise blade. "Sunna, I have met hundreds of thousands of peoples, in different realms and different places. Your kind are born and grow old in the blink of an eye to me. You are nothing to me. I care little for the vapid sensibilities of the common man, just as you cannot weep and wail over every insect killed in your presence because you will never be able to carry on. I am a god and you are a girl. Do you blame a gust of wind for blowing down a castle made of sand? No. No amount of tact could make such a truth easily digestible, and you simply will not be able to induce guilt in me for it."

"Fuck you."

Again, I don’t blame her for the punch. It is the risk you take with provocation. Her fist never makes contact with my face though, I am still quicker than she is, wrapping my fingers around the assailing wrist and holding it firmly in my hand. Unsuccessful attempts to wrench out of my grip were made, and it's harder to restrain her than it technically should be. Perfect. Sunna’s anger is making her stronger.

“So you just mess with people- what- because you can?”

“More or less."

She is preparing another strike.

"Time ever marcheth forth and when you live as long as I do you find entertainment wherever you can.”

I grab her other wrist as well, halting the right hook.

Genuine surprise weaves through the timbre of my voice, “your swings have good form. I refuse to believe that Strange taught you how to fight. That buffoon couldn’t throw a half-decent punch to save his life. Stop it, you’re going to strain a muscle."

She swears at me again.

Something in the air shifts, enough to pull my attention to our surroundings, only for a second but long enough that she pulls me off balance, forcing me to take a step forward. She uses the momentum to grind her heel down on the top of my foot. In real life, this wouldn't have hurt, wouldn’t have caused me to yelp in pain as I did. Every other form I take, I take with me the durability of an Asgardian.

“No matter what I do, what questions I ask, you spin into conspiracy theory, like trying to poison me against Stephen, I know what you're doing-"

"Acknowledging reality is not poisoning."

"You are actually crazy! Like I knew you dressed well, but the way you accessorize the tin foil hat - that's crazy. You wanna talk about bugs? Talk about animals? You’re like a fucking animal skulking around, lying and chipping away at my sanity piece-by-piece. You didn’t put this spell on me, fine, you didn’t intend to cause me harm? Fine! But you fucked up that spell, you fucked up my head, and everything would have been fine if you didn’t feel entitled to other people’s brains and business, so forgive me if I couldn’t give two shits if you did it directly or indirectly. You owe me a solution!”

There's a pregnant pause while she waits for me to say something, my foot tender and throbbing. “You think I dress well?”

Another shift in pressure. The memory around us fades away.

The night sky around gives way to masonry, mortar appearing before bricks, sprouting out of the ground like some bamboo made of only right-angles, the bricks grow in, strange rectangular fruit. The roof was the final thing to form, snapping on and blocking the newly risen sun.

Encased in the walls of the top of a stone clock tower, she shows Memory-Strange some magic she had learnt as a child, waving a hand through the bell that signaled the changing of the hour. A purple glow has washed over her features. It seemed to catch in the sorcerer’s eye.

“This is my mind,” the real her contended. “You do not get to act this way in here, this is my head.”

The walls of the tower crack and the ground jolts, shards of another scene loitering behind the set. She is almost there, unwittingly close to a breakthrough.

The automatic door to the local gelato shop slid open with a beep, complete with a welcome mat outside, with the words ‘ice to meet you!’ emblazoned in pink. The inside of the shop was almost empty, but she sat with Wong in one of the shop’s pastel tables, eating their gelato and talking.

“I don’t care what you do out there in the rest of the world but you don’t get to come here and laugh at my memories and torture me because you got bored. Get it together! I have no memories, Loki! My brain is so broken! My body could give out on me any second, everything hurts and my magic is gone. I’m scared, so you need to step up! I need you to step up. You owe me.” Color blooms high across her cheeks.

The gelato shop shudders, splintering away, thrusting us into an intoxicated New York city night.

The lights were too bright, so much so that they hurt her eyes. She could hear every sound around us, every hum of a motor vehicle, the rustle of trash being kicked on the sidewalk, and people speaking to each other in various tones all of which were so intrusive that they thudded against her skull but still she couldn’t make out a single word of conversation.

Ah, here we are. The underlayer.

Her pain transports me. Once when I was small, Odin took me out into the forest to hunt. I did not take to physical endeavors in the same way that my brother did and I was acutely aware of how this made me lesser than Thor. Still I was young, and was always chasing the ghost of approval that Odin gave occasionally - not enough to sustain me, but often enough that I was haunted with the need to make him proud of me. Desperate for more.

I did not rejoice in the killing of animals. More often than not it would do little more than to wash me with nausea, but that day we had laid a trap for a bear, a clamp with so much force that it would be able to restrain the beast long enough for Odin to kill it. We sat in wait until the sun set and rose and set and rose again, the time being of little burden to us.

We sat until a reindeer, antlers freshly shed, wandered near. He called for his kind, but there came no reply.

“He is lost,” Odin said.

So profoundly alone, just as I was.

Odin knew of the magic mother was teaching me, and had forced me to render us invisible to the forest, he had said he didn’t want me to be a distraction when the bear came. Through the lens of an adult as I now am, I can see that it was more important for him to model to me what he thought a great warrior should be, to stroke his own ego, because surely the reason I was such a disappointment is because I had not seen him kill personally. But this was no bear. This was a reindeer, lost and alone, and stepping awfully too close to the trap. For a moment I forgot about the spell and I moved to stop him, to chase him away.

“Halt,” it was a simple command from my father, and it was all that it took to freeze me in place.

The deer was going to step in the trap. “Please, father,” I could not drag my eyes from the beast, “we came to conquer a bear, not this. This is not worth our time,” my voice sounded more practical than I felt.

“Watch.”

The deer made only one misstep, and the teeth of the clamp reared up. This trap was made to subdue a creature much bigger and stronger than a reindeer, so the first sound to echo through the forest was the snapping of delicate bone. The second sound, a scream of agony.

I could not move. I was not allowed to. Odin insisted that I watch. If it were a bear caught, he would have charged in and killed the beast (not without show), but death would have been swifter than the slowly encroaching starvation and blood loss. The trapped animal moaned and cried out. Time passed, how much I did not know, but even now, a millennia later I can see the animals panic and terror shift into anger as though it were before my own eyes once again. Asgardian animals are often more conscious than their Midgardian counterparts and I swore I could see the moment that it decided to gnaw off it’s own limb, now broken in several more places from its wild thrashing. Blood pooled around it. After hours of suffering, it tore through its own sinew and muscle, the gore lashed between its teeth.

It was free... but only managed one shaking step before it collapsed. It had lost too much blood, exhausted and in shock. Even with the lengths it had gone to to free itself, it would die soon anyway. Finally, Odin sent in his wolves to end the deer’s life, and my eyes shut tight, so I could spare myself a fraction of the horror that I had been forced to see.

“Open your eyes and watch, boy.” Odin’s words echoed through my mind, and I am brought back to the scene in front of me, bright lights and loud noises, Sunna standing in front of me, the only respite from the calamity.

“Fine. I agree. I’ve behaved out of line, I apologize.”

She did a double-take, trying to figure out if I was being sincere. It was an expression I had seen on many faces over the years. "Why?" She asks.

I do not answer her.

We had broken through to the underlayer of her subconscious, to the memories she could not access by natural means, and it is represented by the New York cityscape stretching out in front of us.

I swept a hand out gesturing down the never-ending block. “When we first entered your mind, we could only access the memories closest to the surface, the ones we knew you to possess, solidified in your mind, untouched by the spell or by the actions of... unaware third parties. We now find ourselves in the deeper layer of the mind, so to speak. This layer is only accessible through a deep emotional outburst.”

"I guarantee that if you have let me know, I could have had a sufficient mental breakdown without all of that. So I'm still mad at you."

"It has to genuine, raw," I insist.

She rolls her eyes, and the expression is quite attractive on her.

“You're so cruel.” It wasn’t an accusation, more of a statement, without mirth.

She is not the first and would not be the last to tell me this.

“I would say it was unbecoming of a prince, but your reputation is built on cruelty. The old stories, the Battle of New York, the way you treat Stephen. Cruel. An apology doesn't hide it.”

“Did you hope to wound me with that comment?”

She swallows. “Yes.” It's honest.

Each memory we watch is framed with a kind of ease after that.

Nothing flows as it should in here. It is starting to become alarming.

Her mind should respond to her intuitively, but it does not. There are no full memories, only fragments left and distorted.

I can feel her frustration lap at me, threatening to boil over any minute.

For the second time I channel the häxeri, witchcraft. A gift from my dearest mother. The darkness flows as I hum. Let me find the threads of her core. Show me the damage. Show me the bonds broken that I may heal them.

Around us, pieces of her bedroom flow into place like smoke. It is a memory of me, the memory of me.

We watch as she snatches the laptop from my hands.

Suddenly I see her perspective of me, tinged with frustration and fear, as I loom over her. She is a reindeer nearing a trap.

Memory-Loki is forced into the armchair, but her powers are unrefined, and she's using anger as her motivator. A burst of green light knocks her to the floor, and in response she aims a surprisingly well placed kick at my legs, which knocks me down hard next to her. She'd hit her head on the ground, and the memory fabric itself became hazy.

One of my own memories flashes behind my eyes, of Thor killing his goats. A predator. An impending doom approaching a trapped animal.

She jolts as I remove my palm from her forehead. Nothing had appeared out of the ordinary. Sunna stormed out of the Sanctum, her phone shoved hastily in her pocket before getting as far away from me as fast as she could.

The real Sunna stands in front of me, and she regarded the scene in front of us blankly. “I used to remember this, like really clearly,” she chewed on the skin of her bottom lip, “so vividly in the hours after it happened. Out there, I mean. But it disappeared like a slow leak. The details are fuzzier. I still remember, but it feels like all of the memories I've got are so fuzzy now.”

I feel sick.

"So how is what you do different from what Gorron does?" she repeats the question.

The first time she asked escaped my attention. I turn my gaze towards her, hyper-aware of her presence here with me. Every mind is different but this mind is so peculiar. "Gorron looks at your physical brain," I clear my throat. "He can watch a memory via osmosis by pressing on the brain tissue, but nothing so deep as this. I am inside your mind right now."

There is something she is feeling that I can’t identify. "How does it compare to the last time you were in my mind?"

"It doesn't."

"Well, how do we fix it?"

“I don’t know yet,” I answer. It's honest. She didn't believe me I could see it in her face. She feels as though I am holding out on her.

"How do you decide which questions to answer and which ones to cryptically avoid?"

"I flip a coin in my head."

The scenery changes around us. The walls of the Sanctum morphed into a place I have never been.

She was writing furiously on a clipboard, taking very detailed notes of the exhibit in front of her. The dark violet of the museum uniform blazer compliments her well.

It took several long moments for her to notice Strange from where he watched her, his face a mix of emotions. Finally, and with much convincing, he approached, stilling a few feet away. “Excuse me…”

She turns, immediately erupting in a smile. “Hi! Did you need some help?”

It took him a few too many seconds to reply. “Uh, yeah. I- I was wondering if you could tell me where the entomology wing is?” He was nervous.

"Of course!" She rattled off some directions, but when the confused look on Strange's face doesn't clear she endeavored to just show him herself.

We followed them to the entomology unit, watching their very first interaction.

"Big fan of bugs are you?" Sunna strikes up a conversation effortlessly.

"Uh, I suppose. Are you?" He looks at her so intensely.

They arrive at their destination.

"No, afraid not. I can't stand them to be honest, but the exhibit is really cool, there's a lot of really passionate people working that one!"

Strange thanks her, but as she walks away he calls out to her, "actually, this is embarrassing, but I totally, uh, spaced out. I meant- the Babylonian exhibition?"

"Oh, well, that's alright, I'm actually heading that way." She gestures for him to follow. "What brings you there?"

"The art, I guess. Big fan."

"That's cool! I don't think it gets the recognition it deserves."

"Oh yeah, me neither. I don't know anything about it. Maybe you could start me off?"

The pair talked for hours, completely absorbed in each other's company, touring the museum. Their humors seemed to mesh, and they have a surprising amount in common, fiercely academic, competitive, intelligent. Not once did anyone come check on her, to find out why she wasn't doing her job. Nor did her coworkers so much as glance in her direction. Finally, Strange managed to detach himself from her side long enough to leave.

"What woman talks to a stranger for hours at work without attempting to end the conversation?" I ask, turning to face the real her. "What woman isn't uncomfortable with this level of attention? Presumably you have things to do, you can’t just spend all your time talking with patrons, especially not just one."

She didn't reply, too busy staring at herself.

If there wasn't a soft rise and fall of Sunna’s chest, one might have wondered if she had been instantly petrified. The light behind her eyes had vanished completely. She did not move, had not moved after Strange left, but the other people of the memory continue on about their business, walking through the Cultures of the World exhibit, ignoring her. It was as if she wasn’t there.

We both stare for a few moments, until the background noise of the museum fades and silence grows louder and louder.

"What’s going on? Why aren’t I moving?”

“I don’t know.”

The lights of the museum blink off one by one. The doors are locked and still she does not move.

As though caught on a breath of wind the memory is gone.

“What the hell was that?”

“Do you remember anything like that?” I ask.

“Well I remember meeting Stephen,” she puzzled, “but I specifically remember finishing work, because the whole time I was super distracted by the idea of visiting the Sanctum. The Bleeker Street occultist is kind of a local legend and I had a professional curiosity in Stephen's collection of antiques- anyway, my boss called me out for not putting an artefact back into storage properly.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Like I remember, I never forgot. It was really embarrassing. Could that memory that we just watched be wrong?”

"If your mind is missing a part of a memory, it may distort it. Fill in the gaps, so to speak. Minds naturally do that all the time. It's possible that as sick as you are, it is unable to fill in those gaps and this is what it looks like.

She's uneasy. I'm uneasy.

We continue our way down the block. New York is an ugly, smelly place, and this has translated well into her memory. Still, even to the untrained eye this was, at best, a copy of the city, even excluding the piercing nature of the lights and the chaos of noise. Things hid in the shadows here, intrusive thoughts, feelings that she could not accept - though I drew attention to neither.

Another memory forms, growing from the roots up. A vast field of yellow wheat stretching out as far as the eye can see. Buzzing of insects and the humming of machinery somewhere far off. A cerulean sky spread like drop of ink in water.

“I- I don’t remember this.” Sunna corrected, “It's not in my living memory. Could this be a memory that I lost?”

I speak the word for 'yes' in her language, but I do not know.

The Memory of Sunna is next to us. She was not perturbed by the plants, nor the hot sun on her skin. In the distance appeared a woman, walking through lines of wheat to get to her.

We observe in silence for the five or so minutes it takes the woman to arrive.

She had long curly, light hair that seemed to poof up as though it defied gravity. Her skin was dark and almost tinged blue, as though it was reflecting the cloudless sky. But it was her eyes that drew us in bright with false joy. When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice matches the woman that had visited Sunna in her dream, who had come to warn her and teach her.

Sunna and I exchange a glance.

“You don’t know me, but I know you,” the woman called.

“Who are you?” Memory-Sunna asks.

“A friendly observer,” her laugh was delicate. “But I would like to offer you some advice.”

“Which is?”

“Run. Get away and never look back, don’t come back.”

“Come back where?”

“Home.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The cloud-woman smiled, but it was only a mask over heartache. “And you won’t remember this when you wake. I can only hope that Strange will be able to extract this dream.”

“If I won’t remember, tell me your name.”

“Kuema.”

The field vanishes, giving way to the city again.

"Or I don't remember it because it was a dream and no one remembers their dreams."

"Some do." I can't help it, but I don't tell her, because Strange can ruin his life on his own. "We have a name that carries a lot of power. It must be her magic that brings your dreams to you. Sister signatures. She must get her power from the same place yours comes from."

“Is she behind all of this?”

“Perhaps, perhaps she is another pawn, much like yourself,” I ran my fingers through the tall stalks of wheat. “On the bright side, this will all be a great story for your memoirs."

She gives me a look and I feel the accompanying feeling, but I can't decipher it.

Another memory begins to form around us.

An apartment. It was small, and had too many coats of paint, but still the light switches have a spot where the grease from hands had rubbed through the unsightly beige. The apartment itself was quite messy. Clothes and takeout containers were spread across the room, the kitchen had a sink of dirty dishes and the open door leading to the bedroom framed an unmade bed and a cold cup of coffee left on the bedside table.

The most curious thing of all was that the apartment is empty. No matter the memory, Memory-Sunna had always been there. This mind is unstructured. It's unsettling.

"This is my old place," Sunna remarked. "I lived here until I moved to the Sanctum. Is there any sign of a signature?"

A wave of my hand and the room is engulfed in purple. The surprise caused her to take a step back, bumping into my chest.

She looked up at me, eyes wide and apologizes.

"It's nothing," I reply but neither of us move. I get the impression that she is too frightened to, like she can feel something I can't.

"I don't think this is real," she said. Confusion.

For a beat everything is silent.

Without warning, the apartment disappears like sand down a storm drain. Again we are plunged back into the city, but all of the fragments that had been hiding in the shadows were emitting a piercing screech. Our hands clamped over our respective ears, but it was no improvement.

"Make it stop-" but Sunna is cut off.

A monster, the color of ash burst through a building, coming straight towards us. I used the seconds before impact to shove her out of the way, but the four legged beast clipped my shoulder and sent me staggering. The creature smashed through the front window of an office and skids across the marble floor.

We run in the opposite direction.

"What the hell is that thing?" She yells over her shoulder.

"Whatever it is, it's in a bad mood." I rub my shoulder. Ouch.

There's an alleyway ahead, I push her down it, following closely behind.

The sound of breaking glass echoes behind us as the monster makes its way back outside.

"Can't you do something about it?" A squeak escaped her when the creature made its way down the too-small alley, powering through the brick like it was snow.

"It's your mind! I have limited powers here," I snap.

"Well, use your limited powers to kill it!"

"I could give it a try and just hope that you don't die when I do that."

We burst from the alley and into a forest, the smell of moss surrounding us.

The monster did not follow.

She doubles over, her hands on her knees while she catches her breath. "You said that none of this is real, so that thing can't hurt us. Right? Please tell me that's right?"

"Would you like to test you theory?" My shoulder aches. "It's real and it isn't. I'm not just trying to be enigmatic. We can definitely get hurt here."

"So if that thing dies, I might die. And if we die in here, we might die out there."

I nod sharply.

In the distance birds begin to cry. Trees are being uprooted. Something huge crushes through the flora.

Again we run, but the beast is on our tail too quickly. It roars are visceral and loud.

A tree falls, the shadow on us growing larger and larger.

I send a wave of seidr at it, throwing it backwards and onto the animal with a disturbing crunch.

Beside me, Sunna yelps in pain. I feel it. She can feel the monsters pain, so I really can't kill it.

The trees began to thin, turning into wisps of smoke.

Fire overtakes the environment.

Fire rages on, and so must our protagonist . . . .

AO3 MASTERPOST

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leatafandom · 2 months

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🦮 "Gabriel's gaze couldn't stop stalling over the wound he had healed or his hands that had healed it. The slick slide of blood and the sound of shuddered breaths wouldn't leave his mind. There was no denying that the fear in his chest had been more than just the terror of losing another mortal friend, and he couldn't ignore it."

(i had to!! lol)

Lmao! I was wondering if you would. I know it was supposed to be a snippet, but... I slipped and wrote a whole fic. I hope you enjoy it!

Ship: Sabriel - Gabriel/ Sam Winchester

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,223

Warnings and Tags hurt/comfort, blood & injury, friends to lovers, feelings realization, fluff, hurt/comfort, getting together, first kiss

It wasn't a big deal; a hunt gone wrong. It wasn't even anything spectacular. Basic human slowness and lack of higher vision, because Sam was many things but above all else he was human. Gabriel had lost humans before, it wasn't a new feeling to lose someone who was meant to die. It was an unfortunate downside of befriending mortals. This however wasn't the familiar feeling of grief. It was fear, regret, and heartache. It was the loss of something more. This time he was fast enough and flew towards the weak prayer to a rundown house filled with more than one pissed-off spirit.

“Shit.” Gabriel didn't have any other words as he rushed to his knees before the gurgling human. ”I got ya,” he whispered, his hands wrapping around Sam's throat. Gabriel's lips tightened, swallowing back the waves of what-ifs at the slick feeling of Sam's blood between his fingers. “Give it a second, kid,” he whispered as terror gripped him even as the blood ran back into Sam's slashed open throat. “Don't try to talk, I'm here.”

The brunette tried to nod and breathe as his windpipe cleared of blood. His fingers gripped the edges of Gabriel's jacket, closing his eyes, and trusting his friend to handle helping Dean and the teenagers with him. Gabriel's eyes didn't look away from Sam as the hunter's consciousness faded at the sudden fall and rise of his blood pressure. Gabriel's eyes filled with grace, hiding his fear in fury and packing it away until Sam was back in the Impala.

Unfortunately, he had moved past fury quickly after having cleared the ghosts that had lingered within the house. He didn't leave once the Winchesters had returned to the Bunker. It wasn't uncommon for him to hang out with them in the Bunker, but Gabriel's gaze couldn't stop stalling over the wound he had healed or his hands that had healed it. The slick slide of blood and the sound of shuddered breaths wouldn't leave his mind. There was no denying that the fear in his chest had been more than just the terror of losing another mortal friend, and he couldn't ignore it. It was all he thought about as he sat with Sam throughout his day.

The internal contemplation left him noticeably quieter and filled with anxious movement. He couldn't help the way his gaze lingered or how he seemed to put more into being helpful rather than pushing his luck with the brothers. The older being was sure that Sam had noticed, but Gabriel had brushed anyone’s comments on his fidgeting away with a joke. The being unsure of what to do with the realization of how much Sam had come to mean to him. He pushed the questions about his behavior away until the one person he needed to talk to questioned it, and he couldn’t avoid it anymore.

“Hey, Gabe?” When the archangel in question didn't look up, Sam signed as he glanced at him from the drawer he was shifting through. “Gabriel?” He repeated more sternly, frowning when the archangel finally looked up.

“Huh?”

“You're being quiet,” Sam frowned, twisting around the storage room to face the shorter being bodily. “Are you sure you're okay?” This wasn't the first time he had caught the archangel staring at his hands and falling quiet.

“I'm fine, Sam, stop mother-henning me,” he replied with a curled lip, moving a box for show.

Sam’s frown didn't lift, studying him for a moment. “Sure.” Hazel eyes rolled as he drew out the word, watching Gabriel try to hide behind humor and his pointless shifting of crates. “Come on, I know something's on your mind. You know you can talk to me,” he offered, looking away from him and back to the list of items they were looking for. “You just seem off, lately,” he said before he read off the list again.

Gabriel huffed, poking at the box he had moved for no reason at all knowing that the weapons and ingredients they needed weren't there. He kicked the toe of his sneakers against the cement floor with a frown, determined not to start lying to Sam now.

“I’ve just been thinkin’,” he mumbled, looking over his shoulder at the other.

Sam didn’t look up from the list, his fingers tapping on the tabletop before moving to another cabinet and pulling out a satchel of dried plants. “Yeah, I kinda figured you were in your head.” He stood back up adding it to the small collection they had made, watching as Gabriel moved to take up the list. “Something I can help with?”

Gabriel offered a hum and a slight nod, eyes looking from the list and towards one of the drawers. “Maybe… probably,” he said as he tossed through a row of drawers before he found the iron brand he was searching for. “I just realized something, when you were hurt like that.”

The brunette nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as Gabriel walked back with the small token, putting it with the others. “I’ve gotten hurt before, died before. I'm fine. You healed me.” Sam’s broad shoulders shrugged, used to the risk of his profession as he grabbed a larger bowl and a jar of pig’s blood. “Thank you by the way,” he added, unsure if he had already thanked the archangel for finding him.

The shorter being waved a hand physically brushing off the hunter's thanks. “You don’t have to thank me, Sam,” he said, narrowing and glaring at the row of cabinets and premade potions.

“So,” the brunette started, lips twisting as Gabriel glared at the cabinets before searching through them. “What did you realize?” He asked as Gabriel found the copper dagger the spell required.

He sighed looking at it as he walked back to Sam. “That I really needed you to be safe,” the shorter being mumbled, looking up at the brunette before looking down as he placed the knife with the bits of a spell they had gathered in hopes of helping a couple of hunters. When Gabriel looked back Sam’s brows were pinched and his lips already forming his next words, words Gabriel knew would give him an out if he wanted it. “I didn’t want to lose you. Lose more time together. Before we were even together. I didn’t want to be too slow, or not have enough juice... And once you were safe I just… I just wanted to kiss you.”

After a moment his lips opened and closed without a sound, and the tall man shuffled his feet. Sam’s brow didn’t loosen nor break Gabriel's serious stare. “Do you,” he cleared his throat, eyes darting away from the archangel before going back to him. “Do you still want to kiss me?” he asked, watching Gabriel’s fine movements closely.

Gabriel blinked, leaning backward slightly to take in more of Sam. “Yeah?” He asked, more than said making Sam’s brows fall completely, and his lips press into an unpressed line. “I mean yes! Duh, yes I still want to kiss you,” the archangel quickly recovered, returning to the space he had filled before.

The hunter’s lips crooked up, bending slightly for the archangel to claim his lips. Gabriel hummed into the soft press, fingers gripping the cuffs of Sam’s rolled-up sleeves. The taller man's fingers turned upwards gripping Gabriel’s forearms, parted his lips, and invited Gabriel closer. The archangel smiled into the exchange, tongue diving past the brunette’s lips as his hands climbed higher. His fingers twisted to hold onto the lapels of Sam’s overshirt keeping him close. Sam released a muffled sound against the archangel's exploring tongue, hands sliding to Gabriel’s waist for support against the archangel’s grip. He deepened the kiss as he wrapped his body around the shorter vessel, before dipping his head back to break the tender exchange. Gabriel released a groan of disappointment as he let Sam pull back for air.

Sam hummed, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. “We have to finish helping them,” the hunter said in a chuckled breath against his lips.

The archangel swallowed, not wanting this to change what they had grown into. “Yeah,” he grumbled, dragging his fingers across Sam's throat before moving higher to cup his cheek.

“I know,” he hummed, stealing another kiss. “We will.” He sighed, dragging his thumb across Sam’s bottom lip, unable to help but return the brunette's dimpled smile. Gabriel didn’t look away from his fingers as he dragged them over Sam’s smiling lips. “We’re still on for movie night, right?” He questioned, worried about the friendship he had come to cherish.

“Of course,” Sam nodded, hearing the archangel’s subtext and sharing the worry. He offered another smile, pressing his face to the celestial's hand before he heaved a sigh. “But, not if we don’t finish the spell,” the hunter continued, nipping at Gabriel’s fingers before pulling from his reach. “After we’re done we could set it up in my room instead of the den,” he suggested turning back to the items they had. “Dean and Cas aren't supposed to be back for a few hours.”

Gabriel hummed watching as Sam made himself busy with the list. “The day I say no to your bed is the day the sun flickers out, Sam-I-Am,” Gabriel hummed, knocking his shoulder against Sam’s side with a bounce of his eyebrow, drinking in the other’s laugh.

“You're ridiculous.”

For the fake fic ask game

#thank you so much for the ask #ignore the spelling errors and typos #still needs a title #quick musings #blood and injury #whump #angst #confessions #first kiss #gabriel spn #sam winchester #sabriel

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cosmichighpriestess · 10 days

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Shifting into your Higher Self:

First off, slow down. There's no rush for any reason. You are eternal and immortal you will shift into the fifth dimension at your own pace. Your ego is in a rush, your Higher Self isn't. There's no rush because you're meant to enjoy shifting and experiencing your physical reality because if you're not, you're living in the future or the past creating an illusionary temporary depression. It is not the truth, you are here on Earth to evolve but also to enjoy yourself after figuring out how this game of Earth works.

But even those who are asleep in the matrix can enjoy themselves and that has nothing to with your own spiritual journey so let them be who they are, because even they are offering the collective their own unique essence & vibration that is needed to help the world around them. Your world is your world, this is your kingdom and you decide what is. No one else decides which Earth you are experiencing.

One of the ways I shift into my higher self is I speak out loud around others about what I am thinking or what I am reading, or writing. Instead of masking, because of my autism I instead swallow my illusionary fear and I speak my mind even if that person may be triggered, even if they may be surprised or too stunned to speak they are co creating a version of me in their reality. If I do not prefer that version of me they created, I surprise them with the version of me I believe I am in that moment. You are a brand new being every single moment because you are shifting parallel realities every single second. So every morning I wake up, I say to myself I am a brand new person today meeting a new version of myself.

Every single day is an entire lifetime to experience the way in which I want to live. Our existence is eternal and we are limitless experiencing a very seemingly limiting virtual reality in this hologram. To become limitless you must first be okay with experiencing limitations that are illusions. To get what you want you must first be okay with not getting what you want and become fulfilled completely within. To create a safe feeling in your body and create peace within you must first be okay with the chaos around you and be okay what everything in your reality.

I did not have a safe reality my entire life, as I mentioned in previous messages about my life, I was abused since childhood, almost killed by all of my partners, stalked, hunted, cursed by covens of dark witches and I almost died a handful of times in my life. It sounds unreal but I received this message a large number of times by God and my spirit guides. They wanted to siphon my energy for themselves. I had no choice but to go within and create a safe space within me out of nothing, out of fear, doubt, suffering, and endless pain.

I created this safety by realizing that I am an indestructible human being knowing that we all are because death is an illusion and we never truly die because our consciousness never dies, we just become non physical beings of light. I came to this place of peace within me by using breathing techniques I learned from ascended masters and realizing every abuser outside of me was abusing me unconsciously because they felt lack and they treated themselves horribly because they felt shame about themselves.

You're doing everything right. You're doing the best with what you've been given. There's really no right or wrong way, just meaningless neutral choices you learn from and grow from no matter how negative they are. Be in a state of gratitude for the negative and the positive experiences you have because when you do that you shift into your God or Goddess self your higher self and ascend quite rapidly. You also ascend and operate at a faster, higher state when you stay in the upper vibrations of , love, joy, neutrality, acceptance, gratitude, peace, willingness ect. You only stop your divine flow of pure consciousness when you believe in the illusions of fear, guilt, shame, sadness, and you believe that those things control you and hurt you.

My compassion, forgiveness and love was used against me because they saw it as a weakness but it was actually my inner power they were envious of because they didn't understand how it could be real and not faked for manipulative tactics. Everything I do is because I genuinely want to, and I genuinely want to help others not because I want to impress anyone or manipulate anyone. I do not care if you take what I learned for myself for your own life because I am already complete and whole without having to step on anyone to get what I want. I don't need anything. I am completely fulfilled and when you come from that fulfilled state of being you receive everything you want because you are a frequency match for your desires.

You already contain it all so there's nothing you really need outside of you. You don't have to wait for anything or anyone outside of you to give you permission to feel how you want to feel right now and be your higher self. Let your ego know it's safe for you to trust your heart and it's safe for you to just exist and be without doing anything. You don't have to go anywhere or do anything. If you feel inspired to take action on your highest excitement, please do but don't beat yourself up for existing and literally doing your job, being exactly where you're supposed to be. You are exactly where you're meant to be right now.

They can only hurt you temporarily because all negativity is not the truth of who you are, and all negativity is an illusion. Even holding into your desires for dear life, needing to constantly hold onto them and perfect them constantly is lowering your vibration. So just let them go. And trust that your higher self knows what you desire already and is doing everything it can to bring them to you without overwhelming you.

You can never create a reality you can't handle, You can only create the illusion of not being able to handle it, but that is just another fear based limiting belief to let go of. So just let go, let go, let go of the old, the outdated the fear based limiting beliefs, the old things in your closet your new version doesn't need, the old versions of yourself other people created for you and remember that you are pure unconditional love, that is the truth and everything else that says otherwise is an illusion.

#rose messages

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mitigatedchaos · 5 months

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VOL - Value-Over-LLM

(~700 words, 3 minutes)

3) Ken, an estate campus resident: "Cycling through my neighborhood this morning, I can't help but appreciate living in a place that values sustainable transportation and community spirit! 🚴‍♀️🌳 #EstateCampusLife"

I instructed Nous Capybara to generate 5 fictional characters after reading about the hypothetical country I've mentioned before. On previous runs I didn't specify to make ordinary people, and got pairings like:

An influential [country's politics] philosopher and political thinker known for her radical ideas about the role of religion in governance and societal order.

"The path to true enlightenment lies not within abstract notions of good and evil, but in the practical application of morality and ethics in our daily lives." - Hera

A high-ranking member of [country's military], known for his exceptional strategic thinking and leadership skills in [country]'s wars and conflicts.

"In times of war, it is often those with the sharpest strategies who emerge victorious. But in peacetime, it is the leaders who can adapt quickly to changing circumstances who will prevail." - Shu

With respect to both the text and the knowledge base of the model, with respect to meaning, we can think of LLMs as moving sideways and downwards - they generate a related text in the text-space, which generally has less meaning. This can result in an information gain if you are not familiar with the meaning of the original text, or with that portion of the LLM's knowledge base, or just haven't thought about it much yet.

In my opinion, LLMs as a technology, by itself, are likely to be at least as consequential as email.

First, I expect this to reshape how human beings communicate with each other. A ChatGPT subscription costs about $20/mo. The existing generations will get used to nearly-unlimited, on-demand, LLM text generation. Future generations will grow up with LLM text as a baseline.

This is likely to socially devalue text that sounds like an LLM. I can already feel the outline of socially lonely people turning to LLMs in some way, and this generating a vibe of, "All your friends are puppets," / "all my friends are flesh and blood," where the latter will be seen as the result of superior social ability and fitness.

It may lead to the devaluing of all generic business talk, or push some individuals to a higher level of consciousness or understanding. These conditions may spark new artistic or philosophical movements, and are likely to change the way society views itself.

It's unclear what follower-personalities, whose beliefs are more socially determined, are likely to do in the face of the text onslaught, as they are not currently reading text into a coherent model for evaluation. Some of them may be "trapped" by this technology and fail to reach a new level of development.

Future teenagers will likely project retro nostalgia for the pre-LLM era and its greater authenticity.

There will likely be development of a writing style which is deliberately LLM-illegible, but it would likely be an awful lot of fucking work to read.

Second, humans are likely to accumulate a ring of text information and spreadsheet type data that can be fed into LLMs and related systems. Right now, it's difficult to get the information back out, because you have to do it manually, which is high attention. An LLM's reading of this data will be low-attention, but cheap.

What's in this ring of text information is likely to depend on copyright or intellectual property law, but the provisioning of textbooks or articles for inclusion in LLM use may emerge in the coming decades.

Automatic summarization, even of middling quality, is a big deal. LLMs still have the issue where processing a large document at speed requires a tremendous amount of VRAM, but documents could be summarized in a hierarchy, and then searched and processed in a multi-step process.

Regardless, the text information is likely to include the user's own creative content.

A lack of access to this ring is likely to result in reduced mobility, for lack of a better word.

Third, an increasing body of text will likely be written for LLMs. I don't mean messages or queries. Rather, the goal of an article is to add information, so text will be written as LLM source materials.

Fourth, what you get out of an LLM depends a great deal on what you put in. People with a higher aptitude can get more out of an LLM because they better understand the limits of the system, but also because they ask the right questions.

Fifth, constant exposure to text generation of this kind might also result in atrophy of skills in reading and writing.

It's difficult to tell at this juncture. What seems more likely is a split. Some people will focus on what gives them the advantage, writing in a way that provides a very rich and understandable information source, providing "value over LLM." Others will let the machine write everything and gradually pay less and less attention to it, and would eventually find it challenging to write a quality email on their own even if they were forced to at gunpoint.

The effect of the latter may end up being be similar, in some ways, to online environments in which someone's avatar is "physically" present, but the operator is not at-keyboard, and you don't know when the operator will be at-keyboard, and if they don't want to answer you they may pretend to be not-at-keyboard. (This is one reason to avoid brain-computer interfaces, as they could lead to a society of people who are never anywhere - even online.)

It may be necessary to apply some class of future social conservative policies, such as banning the use of LLMs on school grounds, but we will see.

#ai_tag #mitigated future #ai #LLM #machine learning

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burlveneer-music · 2 months

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A new album from Kahil El’Zabar’s Ethnic Heritage Ensemble today as well - "Open Me, A Higher Consciousness of Sound and Spirit"

This is the new offering from Kahil El’Zabar and his Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, in conjunction with the legendary group’s 50th anniversary, Open Me, A Higher Consciousness of Sound and Spirit. Open Me is a joyous honoring of portent new directions of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble; it’s a visionary journey into deep roots and future routes, channeling traditions old and new. It mixes El’Zabar’s original compositions with timeless classics by Miles Davis, McCoy Tyner, and Eugene McDaniels. Thus, the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble continues affirming their indelible, half-century presence within the continuum of Great Black Music. Open Me, El’Zabar’s sixth collaboration with Spiritmuse in five years, marks another entry in a run of critically acclaimed recordings that stretch back to the first EHE recording in 1981. The storied multi-percussionist, composer, fashion designer, and former Chair of the Association of Creative Musicians (AACM) is in what might be the most productive form of his career, and now in his seventies, shows no signs of slowing down. Few creative music units can boast such longevity, and fewer still are touring as energetically and recording with the verve of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble. The EHE was founded by El’Zabar in 1974 originally as a quintet, but was soon paired down to its classic form — a trio, featuring El’Zabar on multi-percussion and voice, plus two horns. It was an unusual format, even by the standards of the outward-bound musicians of the AACM: “Some people literally laughed at our unorthodox instrumentation and approach. We were considered even stranger than most AACM bands at the time. I knew in my heart though that that this band had legs, and that my concept was based on logic as it pertains to the history of Great Black Music, i.e. a strong rhythmic foundation, innovative harmonics and counterpoint, well-balanced interplay and cacophony amongst the players, strong individual soloist, highly developed and studied ensemble dynamics, an in-depth grasp of music history, originality, fearlessness, and deep spirituality.” With El’Zabar at the helm, the band’s line-up has always been open to changes, and over the years the EHE has welcomed dozens of revered musicians including Light Henry Huff, Kalaparusha Maurice Macintyre, Joseph Bowie, Hamiett Bluiett, and Craig Harris. The current line-up has been consolidated over two decades — trumpeter Corey Wilkes entered the circle twenty years ago, while baritone sax player Alex Harding joined seven years ago, after having played with El’Zabar since the early 2000s in groups such as Joseph Bowie’s Defunkt. For Open Me, El’Zabar has chosen to push the sound of the EHE in a new direction by adding string instruments — cello, played by Ishmael Ali, and violin/viola played by James Sanders. The addition of strings opens new textural resonances and timbral dimensions in the Ensemble’s sound, linking the work to the tradition of improvising violin and cello from Ray Nance to Billy Bang, Leroy Jenkins, and Abdul Wadud. Open Me contains a mixture of originals, including some El’Zabar evergreens such as “Barundi,” “Hang Tuff,” “Ornette,” and “Great Black Music” (often attributed to the Art Ensemble of Chicago but is, in fact, an El’Zabar composition). There are also numbers drawn from the modern tradition, which El’Zabar uniquely arranges, including a contemplative interpretation of Miles Davis’ “All Blues.” As a milestone anniversary celebration and a statement of future intent, Open Me effortlessly carries El’Zabar’s healing vision of Higher Consciousness of Sound and Spirit. All compositions by Kahil El’Zabar except tracks ‘All Blues’ by Miles Davis, ‘He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands’ spiritual folk by Unknown, ‘Passion Dance’ by McCoy Tyner and ‘Compared to What’ by Gene McDaniels All arrangements by Kahil El’Zabar Tapestry and Art Direction by Nep Sidhu

#kahil el'zabar #ethnic heritage ensemble #jazz #spiritual jazz #2024 #spiritmuse records #Bandcamp

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creature-wizard · 2 years

Text

If you're trying to thoroughly research a spiritual belief or movement, it's not enough to just read its texts and/or listen to believers explain it.

You also have to research the sociopolitical factors it was influenced by and responding to, as well as the people who promulgated it and what their general political slants were. (There's no such thing as a spiritual movement free from politics. If it looks apolitical to you, that's probably because you either take its beliefs for granted, or you just aren't aware of the politics it's enshrining.)

You also need to fact-check any historical and scientific assertions, rather than accept them at face value. For example, if somebody claims that X person did Y - well, what's the evidence for that? Sure, it sounds grand to say that Merlin is an ascended master, but there's just one little hiccup: Merlin is a literary creation, not a historical person. If somebody claims that X ancient people used Y herb in mystical rituals - no, but did they actually? Can you find any accredited experts who can back this up?

If believers or texts mention or cite books, read these books for yourself so you can make sure you aren't being misled about their contents. Also, don't just read the parts they cite. Read the whole thing if you can, and ask yourself if it all really jives with what they're claiming, or if they're cherry-picking. For example, many ancient alien believers claim that the Book of Enoch describes aliens conducting genetic experiments on humans - but it really does not; and furthermore, its description of the cosmos actually precludes most things alien believers claim.

Finally, and very importantly, doing stuff like accessing the Akashic Records, praying for guidance, asking your higher self/spirit guides, and entering any kind of mystical or altered state of consciousness is not research. Anything that comes to you this way is just another form of Unverified Personal Gnosis. UPG isn't inherently bad, but it is notoriously unreliable when it comes to things like history, and therefore needs to be fact-checked just like anything else.

#spirituality #research #akashic records #mysticism #witchcraft #witchblr #aliens #extraterrestrials #history #pseudohistory #science #pseudoscience #upg #unverified personal gnosis

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sophieinwonderland · 1 year

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Hyptheticals: Endogenic heamates in traumagenic systems

When I talk hypotheticals about traumagenic systems with endogenic headmates, I'm usually imagining what I'll call "verifiably endogenic" headmates.

There's a lot of gray area where it's impossible to tell if a headmate is "actually" endogenic. Are childhood memories of always being a system actually reliable when most people can't remember before the age of 2? Is a spiritual headmate really a spirit or is it just a psychological headmate with vivid pseudo-memories of being a spirit? Even tulpas from OCs can be questionable because those OCs can actually be based on existing headmates which existed first, opening up a whole "chicken or egg" dilemma.

So let's propose an ideal circumstance for verifiable endogenesis and explore it and its ramifications.

The Tulpa Creation Experiment (With Singlets)

Take a large group of singlets with no known dissociative disorders, plurality or PTSD.

Each participant is given instructions on how to make a fixed tulpa. Where most tulpas are created by the tulpamancer themselves, this group would be given source packets and essentially instructed to make a fictive based on the original character presented in these packets. It would have a fixed name and history to start with that participants would be instructed to read and study before they start communicating with the tulpa. This would ensure it wasn't a character participants had an existing attachment to.

Also included would be guides on creating a tulpa, combating doubt and learning how to switch.

My prediction is that, in a year's time of daily interaction with the tulpa, the majority of singlets in the experiment would end up with a fully autonomous, self-conscious headmate.

The headmate will often have some pseudomemories based on the source given to them. The participant won't be consciously controlling the headmate. The headmate will communicate with an inner voice that sounds similar to internal thoughts but distinct from the participant's own mindvoice. They'll have their own thoughts and feelings. There will likely be passive influence where emotions of the new headmate will bleed over. The new headmate will be able to switch and take front with the aid of the dissociative practices outlined in the guides for switching. And there will be a disconnect between memories of the host and the new headmate. (So-called "emotional amnesia." But there will not be blackout amnesia that's common in DID.)

Not everyone will succeed, since there does seem to be some underlying propensity for plurality. But I think most will. I also would predict that, like studies into people who hear God, the successful tulpamancers will have higher levels of Absorption.

This would be as close as we could get to confirming definitively that headmates can be formed without trauma.

The Tulpa Creation Experiment (With CDD Systems.)

Run this same experiment with a second group made up of DID and OSDD-1 systems.

My prediction is that you will get similar results to the first. Most will succeed in creating headmates. These headmates will have distinct identities and autonomy just like the first group. They will communicate through mindvoice like the others. And they will have the "emotional amnesia" of the first group between headmates.

I also predict certain differences based on reports from tulpamancers with CDDs vs the singlet group.

First, while I believe a majority of both groups will succeed in creating a tulpa, I think it's likely a greater majority will succeed in the CDD group as they already have a high propensity for plurality. People who are already plural appear to have an easier time making headmates, whether their plurality is endogenic or traumagenic.

Second, based on people who have both, I believe alters and tulpas are fundamentally the same thing and are just affected by the presence of a dissociative disorders in different ways. What this means is that in addition to the switching, passive influence, internal communication and "emotional amnesia" of the first group, the tulpa will often be affected by dissociative symptoms affecting the rest of the system despite being created endogenically. They may experience inter-identity amnesia, switching may be a triggered sometimes, etc.

(This is also incredibly important for prospective tulpamancers with CDDs to remember. I've gotten asks on this blog from DID systems surprised when they couldn't remember what their tulpa did in front because they heard you don't have amnesia with tulpas. My warning is that if you have a CDD and want to make a tulpa, you will be making an alter, and they'll often still have associated features of the disorder. That's not saying you shouldn't. I just want everyone aware of the risks and to not be caught off-guard.)

Questions This Raises

These predictions are based purely on my own observations of anecdotes from the communities. But I do believe these would hold true. And if they do, there are a few questions I believe should be considered.

Are all headmates in traumagenic systems traumagenic?

A common talking point from anti-endos is that if the system is traumagenic then every headmate that exists must be traumagenic too. But I believe, in the above hypothetical, we could engineer a situation where headmates could be created in both disordered and non-disordered systems through the same exact methods.

If this method is used and produced results in both disordered systems and singlets, would this show definitively that traumagenic systems can have headmates who aren't traumagenic?

What are the implications on the diagnostic criteria of OSDD-1a and DID?

OSDD-1a is a community term for a presentation of a OSDD that's similar to DID where alters are less distinct.

If an OSDD-1a system with less distinct alters were to undergo the above tulpamancy experiment, they would now have a headmate who was much more distinct and personified. Would this make them technically a DID system now?

If it does, would that make their DID technically iatrogenic?

That inherently feels wrong, especially since tulpamancy is often beneficial. Instead, I think the way to avoid a scenario where a nonharmful practice is considered to make a disorder more complex is to just roll OSDD-1a into DID. Stop treating levels of elaboration as differentiating factors in the diagnosis.

This way, they would just be considered to have DID both before and after the experiment.

Many DID experts have already been advocating for this for a long time given how unclear and ambiguous the directions are for differentiating levels of distinctiveness is. Maybe this could give the final push to just group OSDD-1a into DID.

What are the implications for the Theory of Structural Dissociation?

Does the ToSD only apply to traumagenic headmates? Would the tulpa created in the above experiment be categorized as an ANP under this theory since it's not an EP? And if so, what are the implications for the conception of tertiary dissociation?

If a system with secondary dissociation (having one ANP and multiple EPs) under this theory created a headmate, would they now have tertiary dissociation? (Multiple ANPs, multiple EPs.)

If yes, you run into a problem similar to the above, where the experiment itself would make the disorder more complex.

If the endogenic headmates in traumagenic systems don't count into this equation, then how do we differentiate between them? How can we say if a headmate is endogenic or traumagenic with certainty outside of these engineered experiments?

These experiments need to be more than thought experiments!

Again, everything I've said thus far has been predictions based on anecdotes.

To really start to understand plurality, we need actual hard data from actual psychologists and psychiatrists.

I don't expect everyone to agree with my predictions. That's fine. Disagreement is a natural part of discourse. But I think everyone should want these answers.

And given that all current research into created systems is into tulpa systems, supporting research into tulpamancy should be the highest priority of anyone who actually cares about advancing the science into systemhood.

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