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#and so today i would like to ask for a renewable energy cottage so i can feel like a classic disney princess but w/o the evil stepmoms
baejax-the-great · 8 months
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WIP Whenever
I don't think I did one of these this past week, so have some Chrysalis:
Zagreus on the surface is even louder than Zagreus in the Underworld.
On some level, no matter where Thanatos ranges across the earth, he’s always aware of him down below. He had thought that purging his feelings for him would change this, but Zagreus’s heartbeats remain louder, his breaths sharper, his blood stronger than any mortal or any god. He’s not mortal, but he is always dying even faster than they are, and Thanatos feels that pull every time.
It’s akin to hunger, knowing that Zagreus is living—dying—down below. Hunger is dispassionate, natural, but persistent, needing satisfaction. That gush of divine, red blood being spilled is like the promise of a feast, distracting Thanatos even now.
Thankfully, he does not need to give in to that hunger. Zagreus’s deaths are violent and quick, and though Thanatos cannot help but hear the thundering call of Zagreus’s final, pleading heartbeats, it is not for him to snuff out that fleeting life. The pull is weak and short-lived, easily ignored after a moment or two. If Zagreus were not so loud, Thanatos would hardly notice these deaths, violent as they are an under the purview of his sisters. Instead, the Styx itself reclaims him, faster than even a god could travel, muffling Zagreus’s constant clamor, and Thanatos notes it with no more than a passing interest.
Then there is silence for a time, before that heart starts to beat again, ticking down the seconds until he finds a new end.
Today, that end is not violent and it is not quick. This time, when Thanatos feels the pull, it grows and grows, a pressure in his shoulders, in his chest. There is no point in denying it. He lets it take him.
He arrives next to a cottage with unseasonably warm weather. He can feel he is not far from the entrance to the Temple Styx, the Underworld infusing him with renewed energy. He knows that in the past he would have felt something about this, about Zagreus reaching the surface, about Zagreus dying here so soon after.
Now it only feels that it was inevitable.
A woman is holding Zagreus as all of his organs fail simultaneously. No, she is a goddess, but it does not matter. She cannot heal him, and she does not require Thanatos’s attention. She did not even notice his arrival, but Zagreus did. He opens his eyes and gets out a surprised, “Than?” before Thanatos has snipped the cord anchoring his shade to his body.
It is like scratching an itch that has been bothering him for an eternity.
The woman gasps in surprise or possibly anger as Zagreus’s body falls limp in her hands. “Thanatos?” she asks somewhat harshly. There is no point in him shepherding Zagreus home. He gives both shade and body a shove toward the Styx, Zagreus’s lifeless arms flopping as he rolls, and then he is subsumed by the river.
Thanatos turns to the woman. He knows her. She used to be the Queen of the Underworld. In the past, this would have interested him. In the past, he would have cared more than Zagreus found his mother. Now, seeing as she is not dying and she is no longer the queen, she holds no relevance to him.
Thanatos leaves.
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thelastharbinger · 2 years
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Both Simu Liu and Barry Keoghan tweeting at Marvel and Stan Lee respectively for roles in the mcu that they would eventually get is proof that manifestation works
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scurvgirl · 6 years
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Once There Was A Dragon
Calling this the Fairy Tale AU because I’ve been referring to it as a Snow White meets Beauty and the Beast and 100% more dragons.
Every Friday, Adannar sets out to collect necessary alchemical components and food. The food part usually doesn’t take so long, he isn’t particularly picky, but the alchemical components can be very tricky. For instance, he needs a type of moss that seems to only grow on this one hill on the outskirts of his territory. The hill has an altered state of being due to the life and death of a spirit of Renewal. Every now and then, Adannar will see another Renewal lingering around the knoll, which means the hill is in radiant bloom. He saw the spirit yesterday, so if he hurries, he thinks he can make it in time to harvest the moss.
The moss is infused with wisps of Renewal’s energy and aid in the creation of his little creatures as well as general maintenance. But today he is looking to augment building.
To gather the moss, Adannar must shift his large, draconic body into a form more suited for the task. He shifts into an elf and walks the rest of the way to the hill. This way, he also avoids alarming the spirit. The creature has been known to take to fright overly much, accidentally shattering itself. Such a delicate thing.
After a moment of walking, he realizes he has neglected this form. His hair has grown long and reaches his ankles, and he is thinner than previously. He is not gaunt, but the robe he has attached to this form is looser, giving it a much billowier look than intended. No matter, he is simply here to gather the moss.
He walks up the hill to where the moss grows in thicker patches on stones, shaded by the tall tree Renewal likes to spend its time. Adannar sets his basket down next to a large rock and takes out the small pairing knife. He gently works the knife along the rock to remove the moss, placing it in the basket as he goes. He needs a good bit of it, so he makes his way to several other rocks before feeling satisfied with the amount he has collected. He won’t return to the hill for some time to gather more. Renewal will need time to cultivate more.
With his basket packed and the day’s main task accomplished, Adannar shifts back into his true form. He picks up the basket with a particularly dexterous claw then launches himself into the sky to fly back to his roost.
The forest is in the foothills of a great mountain range that acts as a natural border between two kingdoms. He…doesn’t know the names of the kingdoms, but he does know that the one he is flying from is smaller and the kingdoms don’t always get along. His nest is in a lone, small mountain that he has dug and carved out for himself through the centuries. It was his primary objective for many years until he was satisfied with the outcome. It is not as gigantic as some dragons’ lairs, but he likes it – it’s homey and allows him to work.
He’s created all of the decorations in his lair, from crystal chandeliers to beams that support some of the ceilings to burnished floors. It is the only home he has ever known, and while on the modest size for dragons, it can feel large and lonely to him. His seclusion is not by his choice, but rather by the choice of others to create spurious rumors about dragons.
Every so often knights fancying themselves as dragon slayers find his home. They demand he relinquish a prince or princess he has not stolen then attempt to kill him. The ones that live because they wisely run have spread tales of him and his little automatons. They know him as the Mad Dragon in the Forest. But to his kind, he is simply Adannar the Lonesome.
His home is just as he left it, in a disarray that he has felt unobligated to fix due to his lack of visitors. His friends have taken to solitude as well, and he is unsure of how to broach the subject on breaking it. He longs for the days when his kind could just be, visiting not only other dragons, but people – elves, humans, dwarves, even the horned people to the north. But the dragon slayers have risen in prominence, dragons have been killed for being too…prominent. So they lay low, even if it means seclusion and depression.
Adannar does his best to remedy his loneliness by creating. As a result, he has created many, many little creatures – wisps woven into mechanical bodies that resemble woodland creatures. They populate his home and the forest, not harming anything, just…being. He has struggled to give them language to converse, however, despite figuring out how to give them full personalities and lives. He loves each and every creation, and each is given a name, but he longs for more.
He has moss to create and repair but a heavy melancholy overwhelms him when he returns home, the piles of stuff only reminding him of everything he should do. But he lacks any of the ability to actually do any of it.
Instead of doing of the work he ought to be doing, Adannar collapses into the pile of pillows and blankets that make up his bed. He falls asleep and drifts into the Dreaming much more easily than he has in the past, his soul drifting and floating through familiar pathways.
He is not seeking anything in particular but feels strangely drawn to a small cottage in the forest between his home and the kingdom to the west. He lets his curiosity pull him to the long-abandoned home. Or supposed to be abandoned. Through the bright colors of the Dreaming and the familiar spirits drifting through the space, Adannar sees a horse tied to a tree, nibbling on a bush.
Curious, Adannar floats down into the cottage, his body wispy and delightfully formless. It is strange to be this way, like he was before he was a dragon, but not entirely unwelcome. He admits, there are days where he longs for the simpler days of a bodiless existence. And it comes in handy for exploring his territory when the weight of his body is too much.
Inside the cottage, a small fire burns. It has the look and size of a fire recently made, or made by someone not accustomed to building fires. Curled by said fire is an elven woman with her legs pulled up in front of her body and her forehead leaning against her knees. Hair black as ink spills down in front of her face and down her back. Pastel pink and blue robes are torn from her ankles to her knees, stained by mud and dust. But her hands are soft looking, her nails delicately manicured. Not accustomed to building fires, then. A noblewoman, but a noblewoman far from where she is supposed to be.
Her shoulders shake, from cold or crying, Adannar can’t tell. But he can tell that she has very few items on her person, and there is no food in the cottage, he knows. The poor thing! She must be so scared and lonely.
Adannar drifts out of the cottage and back to his body, forcing himself to wake. A burst of energy fills him and spurs him to gather a few foods that are palatable to elves – bread, fruits, and cheeses. He even packs a wine that’s been sitting in his kitchen for some time.
With all haste, Adannar takes to the skies and heads for the cottage. He lands and shifts into his elven form before reaching the home, however, careful to not scare his guest away. Several of his mechanical creatures follow his path as he strides to the cottage. Once, twice, he knocks before opening the door.
“Hello?” He calls before entering. The woman gasps and shifts back, scrambling to her feet and fishing out a dagger in her robes, pointing it at him.
“Who are you?” She demands.
He blinks, “I could ask you the same, seeing as this is my cottage.” Alright, not really his cottage, but it’s in his territory and it’s been abandoned for some time, so it could be said it is in his possession at least.
She hesitates before speaking, voice laden with suspicion, “I did not think anyone was living here.”
Adannar shrugs, and smiles, “Well, I now live deeper in the woods, more room you see. Old wards alerted me to your presence.”
Her eyes narrow for a moment, her lips pressed into a harsh line, “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know she didn’t send you?”
Adannar blinks, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. No one sent me, just…myself I suppose.” He lifts the basket, continuing to smile pleasantly, “I brought food.”
“How do I know it’s not poisoned? She…she would do something exactly like that,” she says, taking a step back, hand still firmly gripping the dagger.
“I really do not know who you speak of, but it is a fair worry, there are some very concerning sorts in the world.” He opens the basket and samples each food item, careful to show her each one before he nibbles on it. He even tries the wine. A delicious rose that matches her eyes.
By the end of the demonstration, he can see the hunger on her face, lips parted and eyes devouring the bits still visible. He places the basket on the floor and steps back.
“You are welcome to as much as you like, I am not an impolite host.”
She eyes him for a moment longer before settling down next to the basket. First up are the strawberries. Then she nibbles on some cheese and bread. She pours a glass of rose with a shaky hand and seems to have to resist from downing the entire glass.
She must be starving to eat so quickly. But even as she devours the food, he notices her posture is straight, her fingers delicate and poised as they hold her food. A noblewoman retains her manners everywhere it seems.
“My name is Adannar, by the way,” he says. She pauses and looks up from her meal, bashful and without a napkin to properly dab away the fruit juice at the corners of her mouth.
“How remiss of me, I am simply so used to everyone knowing who I am. I am Serahlin El – just Serahlin. A pleasure to meet you, thank you for the food, it’s delicious.” Her smile lights her entire face up in a brilliant display and he feels his heart stutter for a moment.
It has been far too long since he has had company to feel this way about simply conversing with a woman. A woman who had just threatened him, no less.
“A pleasure to meet you as well. And if you have need of the cottage, you are welcome to stay, though I must insist on letting me actually fill it with things to make it habitable.”
“Oh that is,” she pauses, biting her lip, blushing, “that is too kind of you. This is your home and I would hate to impose.”
He waves her off, “You would not be imposing in the slightest. As I said, I live deeper in the woods. I would be a terrible host if I did not ensure your comfort, correct?”
Serahlin pauses, then nods slowly.
“Great!” He claps his hands and walks outside where many of his little creations have gathered, curious to see the mystery woman. The mystery woman who follows him outside and gasps at the sight of the creatures.
“Wh-what are they?!”
“They are my creations, do not worry, they will not harm you. Here,” he holds out his hand to her while a deer-construct named Huirin sniffing at Adannar’s other hand, “let me show you.”
**
Serahlin stares at the…mechanical deer and wonders briefly if she has fallen into one of the stories her maid used to read to her as a girl. The man, Adannar, holds his hand out to her, clearly gesturing for her to follow his lead and perhaps touch the creature. It is…overwhelming, to say the least.
It must be the lack of sleep over the last few days because she takes his hand, rough from building these…creatures. But he is gentle as he guides her hand to its muzzle. The metal is warm and smooth and the deer responds like a real deer, blinking and sniffing, curious. A curious air surrounds it as it steps closer to her.
“Oh, that is…”
“Alright, Huirin, give the lady space. I apologize, he is a glutton for treats and rubs.” A soft whirr emanates from the deer in what she can only assume be a noise of communication.
Serahlin swallows and retracts her hand.
Adannar, the man, is very…earnest in his kindness. When she had found the cottage it had been a blessing after the three days on the road, trying to get as far away from the palace as possible. Even if getting far away meant braving the Dragon’s Forest and even the dragon itself. There was no food or furniture, but it was something, which was more than she had.
The food Adannar brought was blessedly not poisoned and the more he acts, the more she is convinced he is not sent by her mother, but just a strange man who lives the dangerous woods…making mechanical woodland creatures.
It is too much to fully process at the moment lest she risk completely melting down in a sobbing mess. First her mother tries to kill her and now she is in a strange wood with a strange man and stranger creatures. Too much. Better to ignore it and let it happen than to think about it.
Adannar gives the creatures instructions, requesting they bring back everything necessary to make the cottage livable. But really, Serahlin doesn’t need it, she just…alright, perhaps she does need it. She hasn’t even been able to find food on her own, and only luck granted her finding that small brook to drink from.
“In a few hours, the home will be ready. Would…would you like a change of clothes? I have some robes that can fit anyone easily.”
She must look horrid for him to ask her such a thing, but she supposes it is part of the deal after spending three days on the road running from her tyrannical queen of a mother. She nods.
“That is too kind.”
“Nonsense, the world can always use more kindness.” He turns back to a creature, a large bird this time, telling it to bring back robes. She pulls her clothes closer to her body, stupidly worried over her appearance. He doesn’t know who she is or her status or anything. She is just Serahlin.
It makes his kindness nigh unbearable.
Don’t think about it don’t think about it.
Her hands return to her front, clasped together to keep them from shaking. Her distress must be obvious for Adannar to turn to her, brows drawn together in concern.
“When was the last time you slept?”
She swallows and considers lying, but what use would that be?
“Sufficiently? Three days ago. I have attempted to sleep more but the forest…I’ve never been without a bed.”
His expression turns soft, “And fear keeps you awake nonetheless.”
She startles, “I said nothing about fear.”
“You pulled a dagger on me when I first entered the cottage, your robes are torn, you have no supplies – you’re running from something. Do not worry, I don’t even know who to report you to if I even was the sort to do such a thing. And I’m not! I promise. Lots of people run from things! Often from monsters.”
Not for the first time she thinks of how strange he is. His way of speaking is foreign, as is his accent, robes…truly everything about him is odd. He is not from the neighboring kingdom, his mannerisms are entirely wrong, too open and honest. But he is not of her kingdom either, he is too earnest and bombastic. Besides, he is…in quite the disarray aesthetically, though it looks entirely more purposeful than Serahlin’s own current state of ruined robes. His hair has been allowed to grow significantly past fashionable length and what are his robes even supposed to be? They hang loosely on his frame, too big, and yet they are exquisite.
“Monsters?” She asks carefully.
“Yes, I’ve met many people fleeing monsters. Gurguts are common enough to run from, nasty buggers, they smell terrible. Bogfishers, though they’re less aggressive as long as you give them room. I once saw an entire village flee a giant that had decided to take over the village for some strange reason. And of course, there are more sinister monsters, abusers who make fleeing almost impossible. You don’t need to tell me what monster you’re fleeing from. Just know that you are welcome here as long as you need.” The mechanical creatures disappear into the wood, theoretically fetching the items Adannar has requested.
His words are reassuring in the least. She had not dreamed of finding safety in the Dragon’s Forest of all places, running from her mother of all people. And speaking of monsters…
“Isn’t there a dragon living in the forest?”
Adannar blinks and shrugs, “I’ve never been bothered by the dragon. Keeps mostly to itself from what I can understand.”
“That is a relief,” she sighs, leaning against the cottage wall. The knights had all said the same thing about the dragon in the forest being terrible and cruel and mad. She ran here because she knew that it would give anyone pause chasing her. Leave Serahlin to the forest, she’ll die soon enough with that dragon in there.
And perhaps she would have if she had not met Adannar.
Don’t think about don’t think about it.
“You are exhausted, please, sit, allow us to fix the place.” He guides her to a stump to sit on and she turns away from him.
“I am not an invalid, good sir, I am fully capable of helping.”
“I am not saying you are incapable, I apologize for insinuating such. Rather, I am striving to be a good host. Though I am failing if I am insulting you – what would you like to do?”
What a question. What would she like to do? What she wants is to sleep for week and to be taken seriously and not just as a silly princess. Not that she wants to tell Adannar that. He doesn’t need to know that she is more than what she seems to be, and that the monster she’s running from looks more like herself than a gurgut or bogfisher or whatever else he was on about.
Sitting is nice though, and she appreciates his candor. She is unaccustomed to such openly kind and honest behavior. He is bound by manners, clearly, but not in an effort to one-up her, but to genuinely be good to her. It is as foreign to her as his garb.
“I am quite fatigued from my journeys,” she says, “but if there is a task you need assistance with, please ask.”
He nods and continues to smile, “That I will. Rest is important, it is how the body naturally heals itself.” Several of the creatures return from their venture, carrying various objects in their talons or mouths or on their backs. Adannar waves his hands and conducts the items into the house by floating them in. There are thuds and scrapes but the entire spectacle is quite…amazing. He must be exceptionally gifted to be able to move all of this, and there is quite a bit, on his own.
“Do you require assistance? Telekinesis is not my forte but I can certainly reduce any strain.”
“What? Oh no, this is not very difficult me, don’t worry,” he affirms before returning to the task at hand. Posts and lamps and rugs and even dishes are floated in, arranging themselves into proper formations. But no, it’s Adannar doing all of this.
Exactly how powerful is this man? He says he made these mechanical creatures and now this blatant display of power is…it’s a bit concerning. Is she his guest or his prisoner?
“You are quite gifted with magic,” she says.
“I suppose.”
“It makes sense then for you to live out here, many would seek to use you or your power for their own gain.”
He hesitates but nods, “That is very true.”
“But it’s not why you live out here?” She presses.
The flow of items reaches its end and he lowers his arms. When he turns to her, she expects a harsh face, a turn in his demeanor to show that she is more prisoner than guest. But he only looks…sad, even with his smile and kind, yellow eyes.
“Not entirely. Many do not understand and what people do not understand, they seek to hurt or tame. I have no interest in either.” He turns from her, gold hair flowing away from him as he strides to his creatures.
“Food will be brought to you. If you are interested, I can teach you, or one of the spirits of the forest can teach you to hunt and gather and cook. I imagine noblewomen aren’t taught such things.”
Feeling suddenly defensive, Serahlin narrows her eyes and straightens her back, “I am not a frivolous dependent. I went out on hunting trips regularly with the hunts master.” Not that she learned that much from those trips, but still, his tone leaves much to be desired.
“I do not wish you to starve, Serahlin. I apologize for poor manners, the exertions of the day have left me fatigued,” he turns toward her, serious and solemn, “a caution about the forest - do not pass the waterfall to the east, many who do, do not return.”
What a cryptic thing to say. Before she can question him by what he means, he slips into the forest, seeming to disappear within the shadows. Strange, but it the Dragon’s Forest, strangeness is probably the norm as backwards as that sounds.
When he leaves, the creatures go with him, taking the low whirring that had filled the air with them. It leaves her with a sudden heavy silence and a full cottage for her to explore anew. Serahlin rises from the stump and heads into the cottage, now alight with warm candles and a much more sufficient fire. There is a sofa with cushions covered in a vibrant floral pattern that makes her smile. Behind the sofa against the wall is an oil lamp; and next to a bookshelf that even has a few books on it – old and weathered tomes on flora and fauna of this part of the world and even a few fictional stories.
She wanders up the stairs into the bedroom to find the fireplace in there lit as well, and a small oil lamp sitting on a side table. The bed is smaller than what she is used to, less extravagant, but it is beautiful all the same. It appears to be hand carved from a light wood, swirls and symbols etched into the small posts at the head and foot of the bed. The bedspread is floral as well, though different from the cushions on the sofa it’s still a beautiful print.
She wanders to the wardrobe on the other side of the bed and opens it to find it filled with robes. They are unlike any of the fashionable robes she had in the palace, but they are radiant in their own way. Best of all, they are clean and untorn.
Opting for comfort for the day that is winding to a close, she chooses the night gown, wrapping the soft simple robe to her body. She spends many minutes simply brushing out her hair, getting all of the knots and tangles that have formed over the past few days of running. It is not easy and by the end, the brush is covered in hair.
But her hair is brushed, and her clothes are clean, and she is exhausted. This place is strange, and she is alone. Before a few days ago she had never really been alone. There had always been people around her – servants, her mother, her sister, knights, nobles…. It is not a terrible thing, she doesn’t think, but it is not good either. She is alone because her mother wants to kill her, because another kingdom demands it due to their supposed honor. It’s ridiculous and sad and terrifying.
She lies back in the bed and looks up to the ceiling. As strange and scary this entire thing has been, she thinks she’s at least temporarily safe. Safer here at least than at the palace. Adannar seems kind, if odd and exceptionally powerful. He seems to be bound to a code of hospitality that obligates him to see to her needs, but she is unfamiliar with this code. Hospitality is expected back home but so is a certain amount of distance and an “accomplish what you can on you own” attitude.
Or maybe he’s mad and being quirky to get her to like him so she won’t question it when he starts performing magical experiments on her. If that’s the case, she has the knife and the horse to run. Though for now she is safe and in a very warm, soft bed. She waves her hand, switching the oil lamp off as her body drifts into the best sleep she has ever had.
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adventuresinfarming · 3 years
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A Story A Day Series ~ Chapter 2
A Story a Day Series ~ Spring 2, Year 1 Word Count: 1,879 Summary: Avian gets a letter from a man at the beach; learns a new skill ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (Tuesday) Spring 2, Year 1 Avian was woken up by a rooster – assuming from Marnie’s farm – but that was okay.  She was refreshed and ready to start another day.  She quickly checked the TV channels.  It was forecasted to rain tomorrow and apparently the spirits were feeling neutral today, ok good.
She walked outside to find that her little seedlings were doing great – little leaves popped up from the soil and she couldn’t be more proud of herself!  Grabbing the watering can, she watered the little seedlings before she noticed the little flag was sticking up on her mail box.  First day here and she was already getting mail!
“Hello there, Just got back from a fishing trip.  You should come down to the beach some time. I’ve got something for ya. - Willy”
She didn’t have anything planned so that was her plan for the day.  After watering her previous crops, she threw her tools into the chest – also realizing she never shipped those Daffodils so she threw those in the shipping bin as she headed towards to town to find the beach. As she got into the plaza, she saw a man in a blue sweater and dark purple hair (she briefly wondered if he was related to Abigail, who also had purple hair) walking past Pierre’s.  She called out to him to introduce herself.
He stopped in his tracks and turned around with a viable frown on his face.  “What?  What do you want? Go away.” And with that, he continued on his way.
She was taken aback by his blatant rudeness so she just left him alone.  She had had her share of rude people in Zuzu City but everyone was always busy and in a hurry so she never gave it a second thought.  She wasn’t expecting that here though.  Oh well, maybe Abigail and him had more in common than just hair color.
She started south as that seemed like a good place for the beach to be and spotted Alex standing outside of his house, tossing his gridball up into the air just like he was yesterday. Avian knew he heard the conversation.
“Hey Avian, don’t mind him. Shane’s a loser.  All he does is work over at Joja then waste his time getting drunk at the Saloon.  You don’t want to hang around him.” Alex said matter-of-factly and tossed the ball up into the air again.  
“Oh,” she said.  “That doesn’t seem like much of a life.  You mean he doesn’t do anything else?” “Not that I’ve seen,” he said and tossed the ball again.  
You stood in silence for a moment before she asked where the beach was. “Oh you just go straight south from here and over that bridge.  The beach is a cool place to hang out and soak up some rays, you know.  Don’t want to get all pale.” “Ha yeah, so I’ve heard.  I got a letter from Willy to meet him there so I’ll see you later!” “Sounds good.  Hey did you bring your bikini?  We should hang out at the beach sometime.”
Her heart leapt into her throat at his invitation.  “Y-yeah, I think I brought it…I have stuff to do today but maybe sometime later?” you said. Shoot, did I bring it with?  She couldn’t remember.
He nodded and pulled out that dazzling smile as they parted ways.
She headed in the direction of his instructions and sure enough, the salt in the air got heavier as she crossed the bridge Alex had mentioned.  From the shore, she assumed Willy was on the large pier with the run down building on it.
As she walked along the wooden boards around the building, an older man with an untrimmed beard, raggedy red shirt and brown hat stood staring at the sea, smoking a pipe. “Ahoy there, miss.” He greeted as she approached.  “Heard there was a newcomer inn town…good to finally meet ya.” He swayed slightly, she wasn’t sure if he was still trying to get used to land legs or if he was in constant time with the waves.
“Ah…I’m still tryin’ to unwind from a month out on the salty seas…It was a big haul!  I sold a lot of good fish.  Finally saved enough to buy me a new rod.  Here, I want you to have my old fishing rod.”  He picked up the rod that was sitting at his feet.
“Aye, she was a good one. Caught me a lot of fish!  Its important to me that the art o’ fishing stays alive.  And hey, maybe  you’ll buy somethin’ from the shop once in a while.”
He gestured to the expanse of the ocean.  “There’s good water here in the valley.  All kinds o’ fish.  Oh yeah. My shop’s back open now, so come by if you need supplies – I’ll also buy anything you catch.  ‘If it smells, it sells’.  Heh heh, That’s what my ol’ Pappy used to say, anyway.” “You’re really giving me a rod?  Thanks Mr. Willy!” she was grateful for it, even though it was well used and a bit worn.  “I don’t even remember the last time I went fishing…probably not since I was a kid.” She trailed off.  If she was able to sell the fish she caught – or cook it for that matter (remembering there was a blueprint for crafting a firepit) – this would definitely help her livelihood. “Aye, you can just call me ‘Willy’, miss. No need for much formality here. And not much to it, just cast the line, wait for the bit and reel ‘er in!  I gotta get me shop in order now but let me know if you need any tips or the like – me shops always open to ya!”  
She thanked him again and decided to give it a test cast right there and like he said, it wasn’t long before she had a bite!  Luckily the fish wasn’t too crazy and she was able to reel it in without too much difficulty. Huh, a sunfish – now she didn’t know too much about fish but she could have sworn Sunfish were fresh water fish?
Either way, she was excited to a second avenue of income.  And since she was already here, she decided to sit on the bench at the end of the pier and hone her newfound fishing skill for a while.  The fish she caught were generally easy to reel in, she was happy that she’d didn’t have some large, scary monster from the deep that she had watched documentaries on.  Although one of the fish she reeled in seem tangled with some kind of chest. Opening the old box revealed “treasures” she supposed..if you could call some squiggly bait, three hard oval rocks and some ore, treasure?  She just shrugged and threw all of that in her rucksack to ask about later.
When her rucksack was getting full, she decided to take advantage of what Willy had told her about buying her haul, so she went into his shop.  It was definitely a fish shop, the smell of bait was thick in the air and fishing tackle and equipment hung on the walls.
“Ahoy there, lass – needs tips already?  You know, it’s nice to see younger folk move in.  Warms me heart to see kids these days take an interest in the nature around them.” He said as he was stocking some kind of shrimp into an aquarium-type container sitting next to the counter.
“Actually, I’m here to sell!” she stated excitedly as she heaved her rucksack onto the counter and took out the Sunfish, several Herring and Halibut. “Oh wow, I didn’t expect you to get to fishin’ right away!  Now let’s see here...” he took a moment to evaluate each specimen.  “How does 177g sound?”  He sounded quite impressed with how quickly she had caught on.
“Heh, thanks and that sounds great.  You can definitely expect to see me again soon!”  They exchanged fish for gold, which she quickly pocketed.  It felt good to finally have money again.   “Not so fast there, lass – your enthusiasm for fishin’ is terrific and all but be mindful that ol’ Willy doesn’t always have this kind of money on hand.  Mayor Lewis should have given you a shipping bin – lets just say there’s a rumor his pockets run deeper than the ocean.”  
“Oh sorry”, she said. She could take the hint.  If she was at the pier and needed to free up bag space, she’d sell to Willy.  Otherwise she’d just unload everything in the shipping bin.  She left his shop and decided to go fish a little closer to home. She was about to follow the river but decided that since she finally had some more money, she’d go get some more seeds from Pierre.
“Welcome back, Avian! Back for more seeds?” Pierre greeted her as she entered his shop.
Standing besides the counter, talking with Pierre was Mayor Lewis – she already had a bone to pick with him about Joja but didn’t want to bring it up in front of anyone so she kept it to herself and instead just greeted him like normal. Pierre was already digging out the seeds.
“How was your first night in the old cottage?” Lewis asked. “And I’m glad to see you’ve already purchased some seeds from here – Pierre has a great selection of groceries and supplies”
“Yeah, its really convenient so far.” She agreed.  “And the cottage wasn’t too bad.  Robin did a great job repairing it – oh and thank you for the starter kit!  The little seedlings have already started coming through the soil”.
“You’re very welcome and sounds like everything is going well, I’m glad to hear that.  Anyway, I’ll let you get to your shopping. Thanks again, Pierre.” Lewis said as he exited the building.
She picked out one Cauliflower seed and a few more potato seeds.  She bid Pierre goodbye and headed back home to plant these ones before setting back out to get some more fishing done – she was just anxious to plant more crops.
She retraced her steps and went south to find the river then followed it east, past some houses into a forested area.  Immediately on her right was a large ranch with cows and chickens grazing in the pasture – that must be Marnie’s house!  She continued along and noticed another cottage just south of Marnie’s but didn’t pay it any mind as she got to fishing – of course picking up flowers she found along the way. The fishing experience here was okay, caught a couple good sized fish but also some junk.  She headed home as it started to get dark and was pleased with herself that she didn’t get lost.  She threw everything she fished up into the shipping bin and headed in for some much needed sleep. ~~It was the strangest feeling – energy seemed to renew within her.  She could feel the experience she gained through chopping wood and gathering Daffodils and Dandelions soaking into her blood; her essence.  Not just that, but handling the fishing rod felt as if it was an extension of your arm – gently plucking the fish out of the water.  Jokingly, she told herself this was the feeling of Leveling up~~
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Prince Harry meditates every day and has a Buddhist manual for life - Daily Mail
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Prince Harry meditates every day and has a Buddhist manual for life - Daily Mail
The Duke and Duchess of Sussex will have a yoga studio at their new home, Frogmore Cottage in Windsor — and this week, Prince Harry revealed he meditates every day. But how can you achieve your Zen?��
In an extract from his bestselling guide, influential Buddhist HAEMIN SUNIM reveals how the mindful approach can make your life better…
When we examine our lives, we see many imperfect things, like motes of dust on an old mirror. 
Our words are often different from our actions, our relationships are strained by our mistakes, our best-laid plans for the future go awry.
On top of that, in the course of our lives we inflict various wounds on others, intentionally or unintentionally, causing us to feel guilt and regret.
The Duke and Duchess of Sussex will have a yoga studio at their new home, Frogmore Cottage in Windsor — and this week, Prince Harry revealed he meditates every day
As we become spiritually mature, we naturally develop more empathy and try to see things from others’ perspectives.
This, in turn, teaches us to accept the imperfections of others, and of ourselves, in a more graceful and compassionate way.
I have collected here my reflections on learning to look at the world, and myself, more compassionately. I pray that they can be a friendly hand for you in a moment of despair, and bring you peace in a time of difficulty.
LISTEN TO YOUR INNER VOICE
When there is someone who makes things difficult for you, do you try just to ignore it or put up with it, because it is not in your nature to do or say something that can potentially hurt someone?
I have met many good people who suffer from depression, panic attacks and other emotional disorders due to difficult human relationships.
Such people tend to be gentle, well-mannered and solicitous of others. They are the kind of self-sacrificing person who will habitually put other people’s wishes before their own.
As we become spiritually mature, we are able to develop more empathy and try to see things from others’ perspectives
Why, I wondered, do such good people often fall victim to mental and emotional suffering?
I, too, was introverted and meek as a child, and so was often praised for being ‘good’.
When I opened my heart and spoke honestly to an older friend, he gave me the following advice: ‘Be good to yourself first, then to others.’
It was like being struck by lightning.
By living in accordance with the demands of others, we unwittingly neglect our own desires and needs.
Before going along with what others wish you to do, please listen to the voice inside you, telling you what you truly want.
When someone asks for a favour, don’t forget that you have the option to say: ‘I’m terribly sorry but I can’t do that.’
You have no obligation to take on a task that will be a great burden on you.
Just as, on a plane, you are told to put the emergency breathing mask on a child only after you have put one on yourself, there is nothing selfish about looking after yourself first.
Only if you are happy will you be able to make those around you happy. The true winner is the one who is happy with his life.
Don’t let your difficult past define who you are today.
If you do, you will live your whole life as a victim of the past.
By living in accordance with the demands of others, we unwittingly neglect our own desires and needs
There is life force within you waiting to shoot out of the ground of the past. Please trust that force of renewal. 
Bow respectfully to your past and proclaim: ‘From now on, I have decided to be a little happier!’
If someone is unable to think beyond himself, it could be because he didn’t get enough love growing up. 
Because he felt that the world was cold and uncaring, he had to be self-centred to take care of himself. If there is a selfish person in your life who makes things difficult for you, look deeply into his pain and try to understand where he is coming from.
If we examine what motivates us, we see that even as adults we want recognition from other people, and that so much of what we do comes from that desire to be recognised. 
Shower your child with attention and make them feel secure in your love. This way, they won’t grow up starved for other people’s acknowledgment.
The nice cutlery set, tea, wine, clothes, pen, quilt that you have been saving for a special occasion — use them whenever you get the chance. When you make use of something special, it makes the moment special.
The house is a mess but you don’t have energy to tidy it up. In that case, invite your friends to your home. Suddenly, you will feel a surge of energy which can get the whole house tidied in 30 minutes!
When a beloved family member passes away, we feel sorry for not having looked after them better and guilty for not having protected them from harm.
If you can’t stand to make mistakes, you will never learn a foreign language, an instrument, a sport, or how to drive or cook
Then, after many difficult and lonely nights, the spring, which we thought we’d never see again, returns. 
As the warmth of the spring sunshine touches our face, we feel as though the departed is still with us, wishing us happiness.We assumed we were alone but then realised we were not.
No matter how good a relationship is, it is inevitable that it will change over time. 
A close friend may move to another city, or a family member may pass away. Your circumstances, too, can change. But don’t let this make you too sad — because when one door closes, another opens.
If a relationship causes you pain, then draw a firm line and distance yourself from the other person. 
Once you are apart, you will hear your internal voice and gradually become stronger and more independent. Do not lose your grip on the reins of your own life and allow yourself to be dragged around by someone else.
Before you go to sleep, recall three things you were thankful for today. If you continue to do this for two months, you will see an increase in your level of happiness because instead of focusing on what is wrong with your life, you look for what is good.
THE ART OF GOOD RELATIONSHIPS
Many people answer the question ‘what is the most difficult thing in life?’ with ‘relationships’. Since it takes two people to make a relationship work, and a relationship can easily be disrupted by third parties, they are tricky things to nurture.
In my own experience, even relationships that were strong for a long time seemed to suffer when, unbeknown to myself, I started to feel disappointed in the other person. Whenever I feel disappointed, if I don’t address the feeling, it always comes back to harm the relationship.
In other words, a feeling of disappointment is like a warning light, telling me that if I don’t do something about it, the relationship could fail. But unlike other emotions, disappointment is very tricky to express: it comes out as petty, whereas if I keep it bottled up, it only gets worse — which makes it difficult to act either way.
Our feelings of disappointment stem from having expectations of another person that go unfulfilled. Such expectations are often unspoken, yet we wish that people would somehow figure them out.
If we do not express our feelings of disappointment, they will start to build up and transform into more difficult emotions such as anger, hurt or even betrayal, and we may come to hold a grudge.
And when you express your disappointment, be careful not to do so in a way that is aggressive or critical of the other person, or when the other person is angry.
Wait until both of you are calm, and talk about only how you feel right then, not what was done or said many years ago.
There are times when someone wants to talk and you give them the cold shoulder. But the longer this goes on, the worse it makes the problem. 
And there are times when you deliberately avoid talking to someone but they don’t even notice. Ultimately, you are the only one who suffers.
When a family conflict comes up, don’t take sides; just listen to what both sides have to say.
Otherwise you will only make the problem worse and risk hurting a family member.
In the course of our lives, we meet people who aggravate our sense of inferiority: the friend with a more successful career, the colleague with a better education and looks, the in-laws with a lot more money. But look beyond these externals.
People who seem better off have other difficulties, brought on by the very things you envy them for. 
HAVE COURAGE AND FOLLOW YOUR HEART 
Many people have asked me: ‘How did you find the courage to become a monk?’ 
Well, I didn’t want to waste my life any more wondering whether it tallied with some socially determined criteria for success.
I got tired of trying to satisfy other people’s expectations. Instead, I wanted to discover for myself the answers to questions such as ‘Why was I born?’ and ‘What happens when I die?’
Even if others scorn me, only having done it can I look at myself and say with confidence that I have loved my life.
Many people who try to forge their own path come up against strong opposition. If your timid heart wonders, ‘Is this really OK?’ have the courage to smile back at it and say firmly, ‘Yes, it is!’
Even if you fail, you will learn from your mistakes and try it differently next time. Besides, it is better to experience failure while you are young. If you are prepared to take responsibility for the consequences of your choices, you can follow your heart.
Don’t assume another bus will be coming. Sometimes you will never get another chance to catch the bus you missed.
If an opportunity is presented to you, muster your courage and get on that bus.
If you’ve waited for someone to show up and change your life, and they still haven’t appeared, don’t wait any longer. It probably means you need to become that person for yourself.
When you try to learn something new, you will inevitably feel embarrassed in the process. No matter how respected you are in your own field, you will be treated like a child and corrected every time you do it wrong.
If you can’t stand to make mistakes, you will never learn a foreign language, an instrument, a sport, or how to drive or cook.
It’s all right to start reading a book from the section you most want to read. Starting is often the most difficult part.
If worrying is not doing any good, say to your anxious mind: ‘If what I’m worried about actually happens, that’s when I’ll worry!’
Distinguish between things you can control and those you can’t. The past cannot be undone. You can’t control what other people think of you. But you can control what you are doing right now.
The secret of embracing others 
Of course it is easy to love the parts we agree with, but when we learn to embrace the parts we disagree with, that is when liking turns into loving.
When we find that things are getting tough, a warm, wordless embrace can have more healing power than a logical explanation of why things are so difficult.  Although I cannot get rid of your pain, I will still stand by your side and stick with you. The warmest way of expressing this is through a hug.
If you want to express love to family or friends, really listen to them, devoting your whole mind and heart to their words. 
If you listen with great care and interest, they will come to feel ‘I am a precious being’ and ‘this is what it feels like to be loved’. Words hold great power.
If you love someone, rather than doing what you think they need, do what they themselves ask you to do.  Though it comes from a good place, doing what you think someone needs can be the seed of wanting to control them, to make them a certain way to please yourself.
If you get angry, your anger creates an echo, bouncing back at you without fail.  Your anger arouses anger in others, who retaliate either immediately with the same intensity, or indirectly over the course of many years in the form of gossip and passive-aggressive mind games.
So the next time you get angry, keep in mind the costs. If you point out someone’s faults, don’t expect their behaviour to change. Often all that happens is they get hurt. Praise their strengths, which will grow to overshadow their weaknesses.
Extracted from Love For Imperfect Things: How to Accept Yourself In A World Striving For Perfection, by Haemin Sunim, published by Penguin Life on January 24 at £9.99. © Haemin Sunim 2019. 
To order a copy for £7.99 (20 per cent discount) call 0844 571 0640 or go to www.mailshop.co.uk/books. Offer valid until 26/1/19, P&P free on orders over £15. Spend £30 on books and get FREE premium delivery.
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