#attractive women turn me catatonic

[satansfavoritestripper]

My flirting style with men: I will eat you alive and you'll thank me while I do so.

My flirting style with women:

#attractive women turn me catatonic #send help #😅 I'm so sorry #flirty #sfs #has this joke been made before #i feel like this has been done before

[dumbdomb]

NO: lurkers, likes only, inactive, empty, or blank blogs. DO NOT "LIKE" MY CONTENT. DNI. ♥️

🫸 if you have any questions, ask or dm. 🫷

Men: Hard BLOCK ME right now if you're "mostly straight" or "attracted to women" or like "whatever you're into" and your blog is mostly about M/F relationships, thin white and nude women, or just imagery of women, only going to like or reblog visuals of my body, don't know much of anything about gender and sexuality...

Women: Hard BLOCK ME right now if you're "mostly straight" or don't like nonbinary people, bisexuality, queerness, if you have a problem with men, masculinity, butches, or only view me as a man or woman...

trans masc ≠ trans man. if you're younger than me, i am not your older person fantasy. actually read my entire pinned post and be respectful of my boundaries or block me and close the page.

Blogs I block on sight: underage, no age, likes only, lurkers, spam likes without reblogging anything, no content on blog, not currently active, new blogs, people from other platforms, people with r/196, tirffs with iv> and ∆ and ∆⊝ and |⃤⃝ and other signifiers in their description, ALL conservatives and discourse blogs. i'm not here to change your mind. dni if your heart and mind are filled with hatred and negativity. ⛔️

Do NOT Interact means Do NOT like, reblog, reply, comment, direct message (for anything other than polite and respectful clarification).

DNI: no/maps, loli, icky kink, "icky" blogs, unspecified "hard" kinks, unspecified "gross" kinks, unspecified "taboo" kinks, unspecified "dark" kinks, ddlg (specifically, doesn't apply to all cgl), older men / younger women, incest, forced fem, detrans kink, misgendering, misogyny, matriarchy, patriarchy, race fetish, fat fetish, feeder, gainer kink, dyke breaking, corrective rape, tradwifery, cucking, infidelity, cheating, hot wife, trophy wife or husband, cucking, pregnancy, alphas, sigmas, femcels, beastiality, zoophilia, allocishet "straight people" kinks and any conservative ideals romanticized or fetishized in kink play or in vanilla romantic and sexual relationships.

if you use afab/amab and tme/tma terms seriously and definitively, if you have an issue with "transandrophobia" or the experiences of transmasculine people, if you're prejudiced against butch, intersex, nonbinary, genderqueer, agender, or gender nonconforming (cisgender people included) then steer clear of my blog.

ℹ This is a personal blog. I do not conduct professional business here. All posts are lifestyle kink and thusly for Myself. The boundaries I have in place reflect these intentions and were written based on how people have treated me. I don't send anons, but love receiving them. I am very much against anyone sending hate for any reason whatsoever. Body and Kink Positive. 💝

Black ▪︎ grey-ace ▪︎ androgyne ▪︎ femme ▪︎ bi and queer ▪︎ transmasc ▪︎ they/them ▪︎ neurodivergent

SoCal 🎃🦇

October '90

Dyke Fag QUEER

Femme Pillow Princess

I am NOT a "Soft Dom" ⚠️

Dominant Bottom (Sadist Top)

Sir, Mister, Miss, Daddy, Goddess

bro, babe, dude, pal, a friend 💕

✅ Turn ONS:

humiliating, degrading, and dehumanizing My partner(s). seeing them in zentai or a gimp suit. i like my chest, being spoiled and cared for, being treated gently, depravity, perversion, Cnc, omo, piss, sweat, drool, dacryphilia, medfet, gfd, fdom, blasphemy, denial, scent, primal, terato, sanguine, impact play, whump, fear play, leather, masks/hoods, snuff, necro, horror fantasies, weaponry, stockholm/lima, cute clowns (not scary), kawaii kink, tickling, feet, pegging from the bottom, hypnotism, forced masc (but only for the affirming celebration of masculinity, i don't like the forceful part), being overstimulated to cum multiple times until i'm catatonic and involuntarily convulsive or nearly passed out and totally limp (physically weak)...

❌ Turn OFFS:

being submissive, switching, topping, straight people, being praised, being called a good girl or good boy, being called mommy, breeding, ovi, impreg, cum, facials, lactation, hucow, Master/slave terms, diapers, scat, rape play, rough or forceful play, pussy slapping, tit torture, age gap, fauxcest, furries (ally, but personal squick), abo, sissies (tfem and not forcefem is ok), anal, the mainstream version of many popular kinks are often done in an unappealing way for me...

100% Dominant ❤️ 94% Sadist 🧡 92% Rigger 💛 75% Degrader 💚 74% Master/Mistress 🩵 70% Voyeur 💙 67% Boy/Girl 💜 62% Primal (Hunter) 🩷 results 🖤

i tag reblogs from other people and on my original posts. some warnings i use are: food mention, eye contact, weapons mention, religious mention, alcohol mention, drugs mention, smoking mention.

⬇️ posts: domb brain | pics: virtueldom ⬇️

#domb brain #virtueldom #vr #ily 💕 #dom bottom #pillow princess #needy dom #my favourite thing 🥵 #needy sadist

[uncivilcivilservice]

Louis or Daniel for the character ask prompt :)

Have both! First up is Louis

Sexuality Headcanon: So I know as far as canon is concerned, Louis is as bi as the rest of them, but honestly both mortal and vampire Louis give me gay asexual vibes. I don't think sex/equivalent blood drinking intimacy really occurs to him on a regular basis, but that's not to say he can't enjoy it when the occasion arises. I also just don't see him as particularly attracted to women (I know canon practically refutes this with Babette et al but still)

Gender Headcanon: Soft dusty gentleman. He's a man who is also a beleaguered wife and mother

A ship I have with said character: Armand/Louis is probably my main Louis ship? We deserved more elaboration on their time together, both in the past and present, in canon, and I will happily eat up any content that fills in the gaps there because their dynamic is interesting in terms of what it reveals about them

A BROTP I have with said character: Louis and Daniel. Something drew them together the night of that interview, and I love drawing parallels between them and just in general it feels like they either match really closely with some of their traits, or they contrast really starkly, and I think that can be interesting to play with. I also think Daniel is one of the other more human of the vampires. My Trinity Gate Book Club Boys.

A NOTP I have with said character: I would say Claudia but I've read some great fic that explored that uncomfortable relationship so idk if that counts

A random headcanon: He doesn't know what happened to some of the vampire cosplay items he was wearing during the interview, and he secretly worries they might turn up at some point because Daniel would make his life a living hell with them if he got the chance 🧛‍♂️

General Opinion over said character: He's soggy and dusty, he's the most beautiful thing most vampires have ever seen, he's the Finances Spouse, he doesn't know his times tables, he's catatonic, he's committing arson. Nobody is doing it like him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Then my boy Daniel 🩵

Sexuality Headcanon: Again, canon wise I suppose he's bi, and I mostly agree with that, but I think he leans heavily towards romantic and sexual attraction to men. I don't think he ever really saw himself settling down with a woman and having kids and leading a normal heterosexual life

Gender Headcanon: Pretty much a cis guy, though he finds it fun on occasion to experiment with different presentations and fashions, especially for events and themed clubs etc. And I have a headcanon of him and Bianca going clubbing together while cross-dressing

A ship I have with said character: Armand/Daniel obviously, but also Marius/Daniel because goddammit my boy deserves all the devoted, ancient sugar daddies he can get okay

A BROTP I have with said character: Oh god so many, but since I already mentioned them, Daniel and Bianca! And I can make it angsty, as I headcanon that they got to know each other best while Daniel was still living with Marius, and Armand is happy to see them get along but feels weird about not having been there to see it develop

A NOTP I have with said character: Does 'whatever is happening in that show' count as a NOTP? 😅

A random headcanon: Oh god I have so many, I guess one would be that I view him as having been born in Ireland and his family having immigrated to the US when he was young, and his earliest memories are of the boat journey over

General Opinion over said character: He's my son, and my brain worms love the taste of his flesh, next question.

#this betrays just how willing I am to be like “I know canon says this buuuuuut” 😅 #I promise it's not intentional it's just hard to shake The Vibes sometimes #anyway thank you for the ask! this was fun! #louis #daniel #answered #vc

[kkodzvken]

take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you. 

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor. 

It was always some excuse or another. 

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age. 

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric. 

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy. 

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.  

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

#sugawara x reader #sugawara x reader smut #sugawara smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyu x reader smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #koushi sugawara #sugawara #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyu smut #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #tw: overstimulation #tw: dumbification #suga x reader #🌘.collabs!!

[cosmic-lavender]

Stability Chapter 14

*****The ending to Stability is here! Stay tuned for the ending in the finale coming "Tranquility" WARNING THIS CHAPTER DEALS WITH CHILD LOSS. Sorry if it's a spoiler, but I wanted to warn y'all. *******

"Wake the fuck up, you piece of shit!" Otis was jerked awake by the loud sound of Wydell screaming in his face and kicking the foundation under him. He adjusted his eyes and found to his horror and he was tied to a chair. They were back at the house in Ruggsville. Looking to his side, he saw his sister and Spaulding in the same situation. Wydell backed away from him, taking a massive swig from his whisky bottle before slamming it back down on the table.

The trio was tried on chairs and shown other pictures of the victims that they had recovered. This was a small amount that you could not shove in the trunk of your car as evidence. Wydell was in a drunken haze and rage. Vengeance had overtaken him; the idea that he was the hand of God sent here to cleanse the earth has consumed him. He held up a picture in front of Baby's face asking her if she remembers the girl in the picture; he then turns to show Otis, "not so attractive after we pulled her out of your little torture shack.” Otis laughed darkly " I tried that bitch to my bed for a month, busted her wide open.”

Wydell spits on the ground next to him in disgust. "Well, he's a little memento for your time together" " that bitch was mine," Baby spat out, "stupid whore" Wydell suddenly grabbed the staple gun he had placed on the floor next to the table and, to Otis and Spalding's horror, stapled it to Baby's stomach. The men exchanged looks of anger, panic, and worry. The love for their daughter and sister and the fact they were helpless to her pain was torture in itself. "Which one did you say you busted open again? This one, right?!" Wydell then grabbed the second photo stapling it to Otis's chest. The sharp pain shot thru him, and he grew angrier.

"Alright, alright, now that I got everyone's attention, I have one more picture to show y'all, and now I'ma need y'all to make sure you take a good look, and I mean a good look…" he took another swig off his whiskey and reached down to grab another picture. "Now I've been looking for this little lady, and now I hear she goes by the name Kitty driftwood, which is a dumbass name if you ask me, but her government name is ( y/n y/last name )."

He held up a picture of you taken at the hotel as you were loading up the car. Otis froze in his seat, and his palms become sweaty and hot. He swallowed as his throat became tight; you looked scared in the picture.. lost and alone. He did this to you, and he made you go on without him; he thought it was the right thing to do now, he's not sure. "Ringing any bells for all of you? Hmm"? Wydell asked, holding your picture in front of Baby and Spaulding. "I've never seen that bitch before," Baby spat. "I don't know who she is.” " What about you, Otis? She seems to be going by your last name.. any idea about why that would be?" Otis silently cursed you for being so casual with his last name. He was glad you didn't use your real name, but any association with them was problematic. "She might have been some Stockholm syndrome bitch who got away, I don't fucking know," Otis replied, trying to steady in his voice.. "you expect me to remember every whore that comes thru the door," he scoffed. Wydell chuckled. "I would expect you to remember your wife, Otis" Otis straightened himself a bit more, looking at Wydell in the eyes but not responding. His heart was racing now.. how much did he know about you.. "now see, at first, I thought she was just some poor soul that got turned around and was lucky enough to escape your freak show. That was until my men started to see her more and more with you clowns. And one of the men overhead her introduced herself as Kitty driftwood. I did some digging, and that's not who she is at all. She's the only survivor of the San Diego massacre. You may not remember it's been a long time, but she seems to have started a life of some sort out here after the death of her family." Wydell shifted through the pictures clicking his tongue. Otis knew about your past; he got curious one day and dug into your public records years ago. He wanted to see if anyone besides your father would come looking for you if you were to join the family. He realized you didn't remember everything that had happened back then and didn't want to bring up those memories for you.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Spalding asked, "what you do with her? What are you going to do with us? Stop playing these games, goddammit!". "I'm so glad you asked," Wydell replied, taking another drink. "so when I got word of a girl matching this description, I had my men trail her; I met up with them close to the Mexican border and decided to go check out if this was the same Lil lady. Now I expected her to be a shit ball bag of ugly in person, if I’m honest. I mean running around you all one can only expect," he chuckled " So you can imagine my surprise when I pulled over her car and saw she was a pretty little thing," he whistles " I thought about taking her out of the car and doing a little strip search myself." Otis felt his face get hot; he was becoming angrier than he's ever been. He twisted his hands in the bound rope on the chair; his breathing became more erratic. "Oh, you don't like that, huh? The idea of someone taking your woman and just having their way with her? Ironic isn't it, so I pull up, and we have a little chat. I ask her to get out of the vehicle". Baby looked over at her and saw his eyes had become dilated with rage. "You better not of hurt my sister," she said, her own eyes stinging with the tears that started to fall, "you son of a bitch".

"Now see what I did here," Wydell said, pulling up the chair closer to Baby while she whined and tried to look away from him. Otis just stared at him, his rage building and building.. he wasn't one to get anxious, but this was causing him extreme anxiety. "I prayed, I asked God to tell me what to do next because when I saw her beautiful (y/e/c) with sadness and fear, I felt I had a choice to make, Well I decided to give her a chance to come to the righteous side of glory with God. so I asked her to step out of the car, she did slowly with her arms up as I asked. She looked warm in the face and asked if she was alright; she said she was fine, just the heat was getting to her and her baby.” “Baby? Is she with a child? Oh my god, OTIS!” Baby yelled, looking over at her brother and father. “Otis, did you hear? You’re going to be a daddy!” a giant smile appeared on her face despite the situation they were in. A child, what a miracle. Otis was quiet, and his expression blank; a baby? No wonder she was so sick, no wonder she looks so worried and so scared. He finally spoke with a calm and collected tone, “where are she and my child?”. He looked at Wydell in the eyes and waited for an answer.

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it before answering, blowing smoke in their faces.” when I saw she was with child, I knew it was your Otis, I saw it in her eyes when she looked at the picture I held up of you. This means this was a 50/50 chance of being a miracle baby, a child of God, or a spawn of the devil. I decided to give Mrs. driftwood a chance to renounce her sinful ways with your freak show; tell me everything I want to know, and I would provide safe passage for her and her unborn child.

"I'm not going to ask you again where she is." Otis said his patients running thin "where the hell is my wife and my child?"

"I'm the one telling the story here, so I'm going to need you to be patient," Wydell said. "She stood there in the blistering heat next to her car, her hands up in the air. I told her to relax, put him down by her side, and we're just going to have a chat. I couldn't get over how beautiful she was. I had it in my right mind to take her then in there just like you had taken all those innocent women at your disposal."

Otis flinched in his chair, attempting to reach towards the sheriff. "I swear to satan if you touched her"

"Or what?" Wydell laughed, "You're not in the position to make any threats but calm down. I didn't feed my devilish temptations." He took another drag of the cigarette. "No, what I did was I told her that at this very moment, the compound where your merry band of freaks was hiding was being raided and that there was no way out of this. I knew who she was. I knew what she'd been through, and I told her that she doesn't want a life where she's just running cooperate with us, and we'll see what we can do for her. The moment I looked into her eyes, I knew she was not going to give you freaks up. She shook her head. I don't know what you're talking about and bit her lower lip. I decided at that moment that I was going to leave it up to God. I asked her to turn around and put her hands on the car. She did, then I pulled my knife." He pulled out a giant hunting knife and laid it on the table. The trio didn't speak collectively, waiting for the following words out of his mouth. All three of them were frozen in fear. They all loved you and felt powerless in the situation for themselves and what possibly may come next. "See, I walked up to her, and I said that this seed you're carrying now if it's the spawn of the devil you know I can't allow that to pollute this world any further, but this could also be one of God's children who am I to make that decision? And she looked back at me and asked what I mean, And so I got my knife, And I showed it to her, and I said, you know whatever happens next is up to God, and I stabbed her in the stomach. " As soon as those words left his mouth, Baby started to scream, "liar, you didn't lie you wouldn't stab a pregnant woman, lies you're just trying to break us, Otis doesn’t listen he's lying" Spalding spat a bunch of insults at the sheriff. Otis remained catatonic in his rage. He was so angry that he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe.

The sheriff then pulled out a photo and said, "now I'm not saying I killed her, and I'm not saying it killed the baby. All I'm saying is I used my hand to be an instrument of God, and if God wanted the baby to survive, then that means it was a child of God. If it passed away well, then it was the spawn of Satan; either way, that is what happened" He slowly slid a photo of you on the ground clenching your bleeding stomach. "You should have seen the surprise on her face when I put out the Polaroid and snapped the photo of her." Baby cried and screamed; giant tears were falling from her beautiful blue eyes, Spalding still angry, throwing insults at the sheriff. Otis finally looked up, and in the most profound, most demonic voice anyone had ever heard, he quietly said, "I will watch you die. I will tear your soul apart.” Wydell stood up and grabbed a large nail from the table. “Don’t know how you’re gonna do that with your hands nailed down!” suddenly, he slammed the nails into his hands, nailing him to the table. He screamed in horror and agony at what had just taken place. Baby looked over to her brother, feeling helpless to his pain, when suddenly she felt her ties being loosened and she was free, “ you’re free to go, Babygirl, now run along run!!!!”. Wydell screamed in her face laughing; she took off toward the door; she didn’t need to be told twice.

As she ran towards what she thought was freedom, he started to pour gasoline all over the house, engulfing the once wonderful home that you all shared. As the flames lifted around them, the two men struggled to get free. The sheriff went after her, shooting into the air and taunting her as he chased her. One of the bullets hitting her in the leg and causing her to fall, but just as he thought he would have her meet her maker, tiny appeared, saving the day by breaking his neck. If it weren’t for this gentle giant, everyone would have perished in the fire. He was able to save everyone. Unfortunately, he chose not to come with the trio.

Otis took off towards the highway. He knew in his heart that you weren't dead. He would have felt it. Your connection was too strong but still, in the back of his mind, what if you weren't what he would do? He knew that he would set the world on fire that much would be for sure, but he could not fathom a reality with you, not by his side. He drove fast and faster towards your designated meet point. Nothing could stop him now except for the mountain of the police officers blocking the highway entrance. He looked over at the trio, and with a collective nod, they raced toward the police guns blazing. They had come this far, and nothing would stop them. Nothing would keep Otis from you; he pictured your face in his mind as he drove, the smell of your shampoo when he buried his face in your hair, the sound of your laugh. He had to try and get to you. There was a rain of gunfire that engulfed the vehicle. They didn't get far. Eventually, they all were stopped from the blood loss and the bullet holes they were taken to the hospital. He had failed you again.

Otis is right, though. You survived the encounter; what the sheriff didn't know was the ritual, The ritual that you all had done every Halloween, the ritual that you sacrificed souls so you could live on and become immortal through luck. This meant that if you were faced with a situation such as this, the universe would conspire to assist you all. Unfortunately, you were not pregnant during your last ritual. As you clenched your bleeding stomach, you pulled yourself into the vehicle. You were able to pull yourself into the vehicle and speed off as soon as you saw Wydell in the distance. You drove and drove until eventually, your vision got blurry, and you passed out. Somehow your car has come to a stop and ended up in a small town just on the Mexican border. A sweet couple pulled you out of the car and patched you up. The idea that you lost your child destroyed you and broke your heart. The blood loss was too much, and you miscarried. Pulling yourself together, you searched through your items, found one of your fake IDs, and headed toward Mexico, not before stopping into Brownsville to check and see if a particular person was still here.

#rob zombie #three from hell #the devils rejects #house of 1000 corpses #bill moseley #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #otis firefly #sherri moon zombie #thedevilsrejects #slashers #horror #horror movies #firefly trilogy #sid haig

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fourth Evangelion thing Part 3

Latest Evangelion movie spoilers

Mari: hey shinji GUESS WHO~

Shinji: i have no idea

Mari: I sexually harassed you that one time on the roof years ago.

Shinji: oh yeah i remember that I guess.

Asuka: Shinji, I admit I had a crush on you when we were kids and you made me that sweet bento, but the thing is I’ve grown up and you haven’t, so I’ve moved on. You need to move on too, *turns to the camera* YES I AM TALKING TO ALL YOU GROSS OTAKU THERE. Your creepy eternally fourteen year old ideal wifey doesn’t exist and your fixation is unhealthy! Real women grow up and move on while you stay stunted and fixated on this image! And yes, me delivering this message does seem somewhat hypocritical when this movie is constantly pandering to you guys by fixating on the ass and tits of me and every other teenage looking female character at every opportunity, but ignore that! And yes, we WILL continue to produce merch sexualizing me and the other teen girls of this franchise, but also ignore that, the MORAL is-

Shinji: okay Asuka I get it you can go I want to hallucinate my dead boyfriend.

Asuka: wow you’re not being a very good straight male otaku stand-in right now

Shinji: Yeah I’m really not since I am literally a teenager, why tell me to grow up??? also I haven’t shown any attraction to you in this movie, I’ve just been puking and catatonic I didn’t even react to you being naked-

Asuka: OKAY FINE TALK TO YOUR DEAD BOYFRIEND BYE

Kaworu: Hi Shinji. It’ll be okay, boo. We’ll meet again someday.

Shinji: you always say that but like what do you mean, in another timeline, in heaven where all the buried gays go, in like five minutes? you’re so vague Kaworu!

Kaworu: That’s my thing. :) Love you.

MEANWHILE 

Lip girl: I don’t like Shinji being here. The apocalypse thing he caused killed my entire family

Sakura I think?: That was an accident

Lip girl: AN ACCIDENT. THAT KILLED. MY ENTIRE FAMILY.

Sakura: also the whole thing was a metaphor

Lip girl: A METAPHOR. THAT KILLED. MY ENTIRE FAMILY???

Sakura: shhh

Misato wistfully: You know it probably was pretty hypocritical for me to be mad at Shinji for nearly destroying the world when I was yelling “YEAH GO DO IT GO DESTROY THE WORLD!” the entire time. I realize that now that I have this nice picture of him and my son. 

Ritsuko: Yeah. so this ship-

Misato: let’s use it to save people

Ritsuko: THAT’S VERY MOTHERLY

Misato: ...uh...not specifically no...

Ritsuko: SORRY WE HAVE A THEME GOTTA HAMMER IT IN.

Asuka: GONNA DESTROY THAT ROBOT I HAVE AN ANGEL INSIDE ME OR SOMETHING I GUESS?..oh wait hey it’s me. I wonder what I’ll say to myself

other Asuka: I D I O T

Asuka: coulda seen that coming

other Asuka: CUTE idiot

Asuka: Aw! *disintegrates*

Mari: Yikes! Asuka’s soul is..absorbed uhhh something something! It was all part of Gendo’s plan I guess!

Gendo: haha yes it was! I’m here btw. Anyway my evil plan-

Ritsuko: *IMMEDIATELY SHOOTS HIM IN THE HEAD* YES! Guess what in this version I don’t inexplicably want to fuck you so I can JUST FUCK YOU UP! Eat SHIT Gendo!

Misato: Definitely one of the best changes in this reboot imo.

Ritsuko: *watches as Gendo scoops his own brains back into his head* yeah seriously I can’t believe any version of me was attracted to this.

Gendo: Look I’m just an immortal monster who just wants to make humanity a collective soul soup so I can reunite with my dead wife

Misato: EVEN IF IT MEANS SACRIFICING ASUKA?

Gendo: ...which one is Asuka?

Misato: yeah I’m not sure why I thought that would work.

Shinji: DAD

Gendo: *ignores him and leaves*

Shinji: That was very expected. Well I guess I’m getting in the robot to stop him.

Lip Girl: NO YOU CANNOT YOU KILLED MY FAMILY WITH THAT ROBOT! I WILL SHOOT!

Sakura: NO DON’T SHOOT HIM I WANT TO SHOOT HIM! BUT NON-FATALLY! BECAUSE WHILE RECOGNIZING THE HARM YOU’VE DONE, I ALSO CARE FOR YOUR WELL BEING AND DON’T WANT YOU TO GO INTO THAT HARMFUL-TO-CHILDREN ROBOT! I KNOW BEING SHOT WILL ALSO BE TRAUMATIZING BUT LESS TRAMATIZING THAN THE GODDAMN ROBOT WHY DO WE HAVE TO PUT CHILDREN IN ROBOTS-

Me: you know girls I would be much more invested in this dramatic scene if the camera wasn’t distractingly focusing on your asses

Movie: SHUT UP THIS IS HIGH ART

Me; annnnd with that I will take another break! And finish this up next time.

#nev watches fourth eva thing #evangelion spoilers

[mrvdocks]

Plus One

Things get real. Can you totally hide your feelings for Steve any longer? 

smut warning

(chapter four) @mochminnie @wolfish-willow

You’re in the bathroom trying not to freak out or let it show just how much your mind was reeling from earlier. It couldn’t be happening, right? There’s no way you were falling for Steve Harrington. 

No, no way. He was so different from you. 

But opposites attract right? 

You grimaced, thinking back to the way his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. The way he too seemed unsure of going for it.

This would change your entire dynamic. Were you even ready to open up to someone else?

Steve knew you, sure, but just the things at surface level. Things you wanted him to know. You were afraid to even tell him about everything else back home, thinking maybe he would freak at the first sight of a parent gushing over how perfect he seemed. 

If there’s anything a person never is, it’s perfect. 

In many ways, Steve just didn’t seem like an ideal candidate. He never put his things away, snores too loudly, had the romantic personality of a ninth-grader, was obsessed with his hair way more than you were, and he looked for superficial things. 

He knew it too deep down, it was better to ignore the flaws for the love we think we deserved instead of feeling contrite when the ugly truth was out there.

That’s where you differed. You needed honesty, it was the only way to live.

Knock. 

“Hey, you okay?” Steve’s voice echoed from behind the door. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. He just had to be here right now, didn’t he?

You think of something gross enough to keep him on the other side.

“I think the food’s not agreeing with me right now.” 

“Oh okay, do you need anything?” Damn it, leave!

“No! I mean - no. It’s alright. I’ll be right out.” 

You count down from ten, trying to ease your anxious nerves. You take deep breaths and exhale once you get to the primary numbers. At one, you stand straight and march out of the bathroom as if nothing happened. Steve sits on the edge of the bed in his dress shirt now, his blazer discarded onto the chair next to him. 

He’s watching the tv blankly, a rerun of a show you both had seen back home fills out the room. You grab your night clothes and return to the bathroom, changing as fast as you can to slide into bed and call it a night. When you return, Steve’s still where he was before, only now fidgeting with the cuff links on his wrist.

You should be paid for how much you’re able to get out of him. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry or something.”

“My dad’s getting married.”

It takes you by surprise. Steve’s never talked about his dad before, not even to Robin.

“Oh,” You say simply. “Like renewing his vows or something?” 

He shakes his head. 

“My mom moved away a while ago. My dad, he uh…..met this woman half his age after her. She’s got kids from another marriage.” He flicks the cuff link. 

“Before I moved to New York with Robin, I would just see and hear them all the time at home. He was nicer to them, do things with them that I had to beg him to do with me when I was a kid.”

You sit next to him, bringing your hand to rest atop his own. 

“The night before I left, I just told him off. I told him it wasn’t fair that he got to start over with another family just because he messed ours up. He called me before we got here saying he wanted me to be his best man.”

He falls silent, his lip quivers but he purses his lips into a straight line to keep himself from letting it out. You can’t say much that will help him, but you understand his disdain and avoidance of weddings thus far.

“What’d you tell him?”

He shrugs. “I told him I’d think about it. He expects an answer when we go home.”

“Well, at least he’s happy.” You sigh.

“Yeah, for now. And then it’s onto the next one.”

You don’t want to do it, but since you’re just letting the skeletons out of the closet, you might as well. 

“You know my parents are still together?” you start. “My mom’s always been this, overbearing cross that my dad carries around. She yells at him all the time but I think he’s checked out already. They didn’t want to divorce because they thought it would damn them or mess me up. But I think it did anyway.”

Steve’s entranced by you, you were opening up. 

“They’ve stuck it out since they had me. And it’s just sad now. I think about them sometimes, just sitting in that house, eating their dinner and sleeping together, not saying a word to each other.”

Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to apologize for even bringing the parent topic up.

“Sure your parents split up, but at least they’re not miserable. I can tell you from experience you would’ve liked that a lot less.” You conclude, removing your hand from his and leaving to go to bed. 

It’s been a weird night.

Steve stops you though, his fingers snaking onto your wrist. You turn back, thinking he’s going to talk more about his family or dive deeper into some other trauma. Imagine your surprise when he stands and bends to your level to pull you into his arms, bringing you in tight and firm. You’re taken aback, arms flying up but eventually settling on his broad back. Your fingers clutch his shirt in fistfuls, taking in the smell of him. 

“Hey, Steve?”

He hums.

“I’m totally reading your boner right now.”

“And the moment’s over.” He says, pulling away. You almost frown at the loss of his body pressing against yours. 

“I’m kidding!” You huff, pushing him back onto the bed. 

You settle in after he changes, pulling the covers up to your chest and putting your arms above them in thought. Steve sees you staring at the ceiling.

“Have you gone catatonic on me?”

“No, it’s just….this is the most I’ve gotten out of you in two years.”

“You’ve known me for two years.” He crawls in, getting comfortable. 

“Yeah but, you know, are these really things you’ve told Robin before?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“She never asked.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t that. While Robin felt comfortable revealing the truth about herself that Fourth of July, Steve had learned to keep things to himself. It’s how he was raised. But you and Robin changed that, especially with the way you tended to overshare things sometimes. 

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s thinking about something, and he looks so magnificent doing it. The way his hair rests on his forehead, the way his fingers curl around the blanket... 

Oh no. Is this how it starts? Admiring him? Craving his touch like earlier? Wanting his attention fully on you and not all these other women? It was so juvenile, feeling like this was your first love again. The strong feeling hitting you just like the waves did earlier.

It was no secret you were touch starved, but there was something in the way his touch relaxed you. It made you think sometimes. Whatever this feeling was, it was different from what you felt with Danny. You jumped the shark with him, you didn’t really know him. 

But with Steve, you were starting to. He was bare bones with you. 

“Goodnight.” He whispers, turning the bedside lamp off.

“Goodnight.” 

“Are you telling me you don’t know how to ride a bike?” You ask Steve, watching him shift uncomfortably and unevenly on the beach cruiser.

It was your last day being in Virginia, and you didn’t want to sit in the hotel and gorge on food until you passed out. That’s what home was reserved for. 

Joyce had spoken of how lovely the horses and horseback riding was here, but that was closed so you settled for the next best thing. Riding bikes at the beach.

“No I - I do know, I’m just saying this is a hard seat.” 

He’s been adamant about this for five minutes now. Every now and then a girl will pass by and he’ll try to sit, only to fall on his side. You’ve taken so many snapshots of this, each time bellowing with ridiculous laughter.

“When we go home I’m developing this and hanging it on the fridge.”

“Erase this footage!” He gestures to the camera, losing balance again.

“Make me, Harrington!” You can’t help but shoot back.

Passersby found it funny the way you two were bickering. Even more so when you lent over to show Steve how to keep his arms and legs on the bike, him reassuring you he knew where everything went.

“I can do it.” 

“Okay, let’s see then.” You cross your arms and stand aside waiting. 

He mutters to himself and puts both his feet on the pedals, not falling to either side this time. He grips the handlebars and pedals forward, passing you with an excitement lighting up his face that a child would have when they were first learning. 

He can’t manage the turn and falters, sticking a foot and hand out to cushion his fall. You catch up to him, ready to help but he lays down onto the grass and accepts his failure. 

“Come on, you’ll get the hang of it. You just need more practice.” 

You hold out your hand, waiting for him to take it. 

“I know this keeps you healthy, but at what cost?” He grabs on, using you to balance him when he gets to his feet again. He’s too tall and heavy for you, prompting you to waver slightly and hold onto him. 

You pull away when you realize your hands rested on his chest, his other arm holding onto your lower back. He scratches the back of his head nervously uttering an apology.

Feeling the blush creep to your cheeks, you return to your ride, mounting and waiting for him to do the same. 

“Try to catch up.” You smirk, racing off down the hill and squealing. 

“What are you, Evel Knievel?!” He yells after you, wobbling and gritting his teeth as he follows after you. 

You have the upper hand on him the entire time, often hiding behind shops and emerging from behind him when he thinks he’s faster. You ride until the sun sets, enjoying the breeze and the little bit of sun before stopping at an ice cream shop. Steve thinks he’s something of an ice cream connoisseur when you look at flavors. You two end up fighting on flavors before settling on two different ones and eating outside in a garden the shop owner called a hidden gem.

“No way, cookies ‘n cream is the best one.” He remarks, finishing off the cone. 

“Mint chocolate is actually superior and I won’t hear another word about it.” You took your time, enjoying the sensation your mouth was on. 

He shakes his head. “It’s basically gum! It’s disgusting!” 

“But it tastes so good!” You take another bite teeth first and moan in delight. 

He groans in disgust but nonetheless is amused when you try to get him to eat a bit of it. He avoids your hand, moving his head out of the way every time it’s shoved in his face. You wait, plotting. 

“You have some on your lip.” You say, pointing toward his top lip. He licks at it, tasting nothing.

“There’s noth -”

He’s muffled by a mouthful mint chocolate. You can’t help it when the corners of your lips lift into a smug smirk. 

“Funny, huh?” He says, wiping it off with his hand. 

He takes the rest of the cone and dips his fingertips in it, turning his attention to painting your cheeks and lips with as much as he can. You recoil and gasp as the cold sensation, trying to get it off but he keeps attacking. 

“Okay! Okay! Truce!” You wave a figurative white flag. He stops, proud of his work, and tops it off by rustling your hair. 

“I’m so gonna get you,” You promise, wiping at your cheeks and going to get him with the residue when you turn to face him and find your faces are closer than ever. 

You fall silent, the trouble maker in you declining to come back for an encore. 

“What, no smartass remark this time?” He teases. 

As cliche as it might sound, you’re lost in his smugness. His smile falters, his brows furrowing as he realizes what he’s doing, the gap between your faces closing. You close your eyes first, testing the waters and pressing your lips against his softly. He pauses for a moment, suddenly aware of the gravity of what you were doing, bringing his hand up for your cheek to rest on. His eyes flutter shut soon after, diving into your lips and tasting the mixture of sweets. 

He kisses you feverishly and desperately, sighing as he relaxes into you. Your fingers tug at his hair and the back collar of his shirt. He leads you down onto the grass, flowers decorate your head in a red halo. He settles in between your legs and holds himself up by his forearms, his fingers entangling themselves in your hair as he cocks his head to the side to get more of you.

It’s been a while but both of you are antsy and eager. You kick off your shoes and immediately make quick work of his belted pants. He catches your drift and helps you with your skirt, pulling the long pleated material up to snag both ends of your panties. 

“Ow.” 

“Sorry.” He whispers.

“No, it’s okay, just - here,” You grunt as you try to help him from where you’re laying, lifting your hips up to let the fabric slide off. The cool air of the night makes you shiver. 

Steve peppers you with kisses as you reach for the belt and unbuckle it. Hearing it come undone makes you even more aroused. 

“Hold on.” He says in a breathy voice, reaching between your bodies and lining himself in. You tease him by wrapping a leg around his torso and pushing him in slowly with the heel of your foot against his butt.

The feeling overwhelms him, letting out a sharp exhale. He glances back to your smug face and glares at you momentarily. 

You move in sync, your hand grasping onto his broad shoulders and the other on his bicep to keep the pace. He grunts into your shoulder, lost in the lust. His hand comes to rest under your head to support it while also gripping it with each thrust he bucked into you. 

Each thrust was different, pleasurable, and enticing. It fulfilled the need for him you had that night at the beach. You catch yourself smiling, knowing none of the bridesmaids or guests he tried flirting with got this far. Not even Sissy.

He hits a spot in you that rouses you out of your thoughts and leaves you mewling wantonly. You know he won’t last, not at the rate his thrusts are going. He’s crying out, bucking against you in fervor, gripping your hair harder, and groaning louder into your neck. You made him this way. 

Ever since the first wedding, seeing you out of your element made him reconsider some things. Sure if he’d gotten a girlfriend out of this, it would be good for him. But something about you made him feel the way he thought he felt for Nancy. 

He felt seventeen all over again, giddy and in love and a little horny. He just didn’t know if you felt the same. But after the beach incident and the way you took the lead first, all doubts went away.

Thinking about you, he slides his thumb into his mouth and lubricates it, snaking it down to the neglected pearl in between your legs. Your eyes shut in ecstasy at the added sensation, your back arching into him. You feel your legs shake and your feet writhe against his ass trying to amplify the feeling. His heavy breaths, needy kisses, and raunchy whispers in your ear are absolute heaven to you. 

You come before him, muffling your lewd moans into his shoulder and milking him for everything he’s got. He comes with a final sloppy thrust and collapses onto you, knocking the wind out of you and leaving you catching your breath.

He pants, breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. Your legs unwrap from their previous position, now shaky and limp. 

Once you two catch your breath after about a minute or two, Steve lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours. You both chuckle, finally acknowledging the broken tension.

Steve kisses you again, this time without fear or doubt. Just pure adoration. 

You don’t really feel yourself fall asleep, neither does he. But you’re definitely mortified in the morning when you hear voices that wake you up with a start.

“Cooter’s out.” The old gardener points out.

The statement wakes you up, and when you realize you just flashed your privates you stand up quickly and shake Steve awake. He groans, but opens his eyes, his smile dropping once he notices the man in front of you two. 

“Cooter’s out.” The old man repeats.

You pull the skirt all the way down and grab your shoes quickly while Steve tucks himself back in and apologizes profusely. You grab his hand and race out of the garden, red as a tomato and grab the bikes to go back to the hotel. 

The car ride to the airport is quiet. You thank yourself for bringing something to read to avoid mentioning the embarrassing aftermath. Steve didn’t bring anything to distract him like you did, but he glances at you every so often. When your eyes meet, you both turn away quickly. But the smile on both your faces betrays you both. 

Steve doesn’t even bother flirting with the flight attendant this time, his eyes are completely on you. It feels odd. You can’t even find a smart-ass thing to say, it’s like you’re short-circuiting. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but if the constant staring and easy smiles and looks of adoration he gave you were any indications, he was whipped.

You sigh in relief as you plop onto the couch, letting all your things fall after Steve gets in. He takes the initiative to break the ice when he collapses onto your chest. 

You’re winded again. “Whoa, someone ate too much shrimp at the wedding.”

Steve suppresses a chuckle, taking you in. You had some type of glow he’d never noticed before.

“So…” He begins.

“So…”

“About last night,” he starts but you cut him off.

“We don’t need to talk about it, you know if you don’t want to.” 

“I do.” He murmurs into your chest. He hugs your body, his head resting on your chest the same way Mickey would do it. 

Damn it, you actually liked this. 

“Great sex.” You blurt, shutting your eyes in disbelief at how awkward he suddenly made you.

His dimples peeked out as he felt himself chuckling. “Yeah, great sex.”

“I’m sorry,” you jittered. “I’m never usually like this.”

“Oh, I know. But it’s okay. I had fun.” 

You haven’t felt this excited for something to potentially happen since you met Danny. But even now you were hopeful.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want me to go with you to your dad’s wedding?”

He must’ve remembered he had to answer that best man question because he’s unmoving.

How bad can it be? He thinks. Now that I have you.

“Yes please.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #joe keery x reader

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

#Anonymous #long post #read all of this if you have vested interest in knowing intimate details about my life or whatever

[jmcfarlane]

DRONE3

DRONe3

.<0_O> — — µ — <_<)))) DRONe³ And other Poems and writings by James McFarlane Telepath/Necromancer James McFarlane·Friday, May 18, 2018 . Telepath may 2018 Pencil sharp, smoke a dart early morning engines start Crescent moon blue grass tunes frost on the window and my spoon. Dopamine and serotonin, pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life, on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. Train passing dread grasses, Sage burning sky lasting, electric currents flowing now, necromancer up and down, Dopamine and serotonin pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. -Seumas Necromancer May 2018 Floating wearily but in some comfort overhead. Making sheets move on my bed. Conversations in and out, speaking without our mouths. Blue fires light up your darkness please don’t ever find me as heartless I love you always one two three here’s the bass now jam with me Exhale eternally into the mic, angel choirs out on strike. Necromancer up and down, rein / radius across town, soon I will return with thee to this town/life Ville/vie. –Seumas (New Revisions) James McFarlane +Seamus to thee, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code DRONe -Seumas (James) Monday, February 22, 2016 OK thisone’s right off the wall: this is a strangely written and personal poem It’scalled “Siren heart Drone” (meant for a mature audience) A’ hem…. I’m nervous, I don’t freestyle often I wish there was a way to put this near the bottom of my timeline, it’ll be my latest and greatest lyric though, + POSETIVE INDUCTION — The positive attraction to your conductive psyche, is a form in itself existing in me, subjective almost ironically, the circuitry, being both electricity and imaginary cranked up high by your fun chemistry by way of the cerebral. (Which is flattering me) The circuitry with chemistry minus proximity, (causing a reaction deliberately) the electrical frequencies that you received from me were; artsy descriptions in accents I read. Other elements of me manifesting masculinity through my dorky frequency, gave off feedback that, officially; for me heralded the dawn of freed energy. So… metaphysical seed, dropped and sewn that day, (I guess what I am trying to say is): My girl my girl, don’t lie to me, oceans away your eyes can see, my bending sending light like this, in response to; the drone from your white laced lips. For the of lack of your treble and charge of your base, my “methadone”, White Light/White Heat, can take its place, anti-acidic mantra chi, surrounding me, a black dot in space. Divided by the curve encased, the metaphysical takes place. The fact that we’re in touch today, makes sirens blare and drones play, I’ll send this over right away, and then appropriately play, ‘beautiful face’ a newer way, I could elaborate for 3 straight days. Now what follows is what’s next on the fret board of your hex. It’s between, us; a fish out of net. So this will be all they get. ok here goes, ya, this is for the ladies in town I know that sounds weak but I blame the moons energy for you cute young women never being around when I finally spit the rhyme on solid ground, neway this is about you, you and the town where I choose, and choose to settle down instead of just stop swimming and drown, no more worries, no frowns, I’m gunna work it on out, cause I’m bound for the tides, not the sound, yea, ok, you know what I mean, yea k here I go, you ready? You steady? I stole the crown from the underground, I thought it would look nice with your gown, I’m upward bound so, are you down with my verbs and nouns? I don’t freestyle rap but this might as well be,flowin literally right now cause i come down hard with a sound that this new town including your highness have minds to breakdown, so get down breakdown, my chic mystique-psychologique will make you turn around and blush while your current boyfriends drunk on the ground cause he substitutes love with down, he doesn’t have an ear, genetically, to hear your siren sound for which I was born to kinetically harmonize, desensitize and heal your weary eyes. This is the treatment we need now ill even show you how, like a bow that goes up and down, helping us resonate these bloody strings, while the clipper ship sinks…… Sinks with the low tide.c’mon lets head home. The moons making my fire rise. That means soon it will be high tide, the ocean spray it stings my eyes, so let’s go inside, its morning time, look at color in the sky the sun is just about to rise. MY clipper ship’s on seas of rye. Empty bottles of scotch catch her in the eye. I’m not afraid of all those guys, they’re lucky they even have a sty. I’ve seen farms that would make you cry. These pale blue eyes are all but mine. And yours are like that brand of dye, that in our last summer together, we ALL tried, permanent like the purple in my mind’s eye or the in the dimly lit sky the night I officially died, all from a med, instead of one I took 10, benzodiazepines, all I wanted to do was compound the prescribed effect at the right dose they make a nervous wreck feel and appear normal so I took them, now I’m in debt, but only tried this cause u have me in check, ready to knock the crown off my head, make it your golden cauldron instead. You know I’m good with shocking steel and know how to forge blend anneal so this golden crown is probably real, and I assure u from the other room that it’s safe to use took a meal. Only cause it’s my deal I leave out the part about removing toxic alloys by melting steel, adding chemicals from the field and as the method never revealed used those same chemicals, that we all feel, all the time in our head to make tiny slow moving particles to turn make gold out of lead. So neways with confidence I said GO AHEAD! But I couldn’t lie to her, so I yelled from the other room, “u should know, that thing is gold but it use to be lead. She laughed, hesitated, placed the pewter cauldron on the stove instead and put the golden crown on her head. She finally walked down the hall and into her room where I was using dust pan and broom, she didn’t say nething, just got up on her bed which was shrouded with purple threads forgetting her glasses, still she picked up my book and read, I said here ill read aloud for you instead, within a few minutes of reading she started to turn red, the stove was on low so she got herself fed THAN served us both breakfast in bed. SUDDENLY I awake and see that we are parked at the end of a pier in some town in Quebec, I yell out stupidly from my stuper, WERE ON A PIER! She had good laugh about that occurrence on several occasions. but ya I took too many pills and was all sleepy on our road trip, all in all, yet again, I fed my head then lost all my cred, it being an accident, it made me sleep like the dead, that’s when I lost you, or you lost me, literally you looked everywhere and couldn’t find me, conscious or not, id soon figure id been stung by the bee, the most painful thing however, and my only memory was later that night when you were beside me, or was it he that got there before me, ok now I must stop and back up, the cheap words pouring from me, telling the details of this pathetic story it’s pissing me off, like losing the love of your life to a drug, and then officially to drugs plural, like 5 years of fucking up pretty much following this one night, the moment you realized you had lost the one girl, the one you compare every girlfriend you get ultimately fucking that up too, the one. its caused ache in whets left of my drug affected love starved blackened heart and caused my excellent poem to go right off the rails, so I’ll get on topic and ill even do it in rhyme, what inspires me to try to try, it’s the ache in my heart that is its key function now when I think of this girl and am reminded of the moment I lost her. ok here goes, regardless, we were in bed together, and from your sleepy head where your soul lies and you can never die, I heard your memories cry, and as I realized all the days I tried so hard to try but wouldn’t, couldn’t try and now I can’t cry is because I was always too shy in your unfulfilled eyes despite being my inspiration for the last 4 or 5 years of drugs and art with your recent if u can even call it that separation the focus intensifies about u and other girls like the sweet PortugueseIrish girl from the only psych ward I recommend at hotel diu in Kingston where I was actually treated properly (maybe cause it’s a catholic hospital, maybe cause I was so fucked up I appeared catatonic for days till this fox brought me down and romanced me for a month) she’s your competition….who contributed to my psychological cardiomyopathy however, a number of “the ones” but evenbefore that I was fucked up, I was the youngest psychiatric patient in Ontario or something, I learned how to smoke inside a smoking room in the shithole Scarborough grace when I was fifteen, I think I checked myself in hen I was twelve just to get away, that may have been what that asshole head of psychiatry was talking about. I also hit the highest highs, and the most demonic abysses of suicidal advanced psychotic depression, and took more abuse for it from nurses drs and the police, not to mention my family, but I still unconditionally love and am loved by my parents and grandparents, Jesus, I sacrificed my life and goals to save my families souls literally offed myself when I was 16 years old to end the devils elaborate foothold on me the people around the household appliances and machines, the behavior of living things the weather and the temperature of the room depending on my tortured state the only common theme is that others hurt and share it with me and my empathy kind of bounces back like an echo, I express and receive the grief while later, I only know this because when I fall, which I don’t do nemore thanks to medical science, its all about them.. but now this, she cried in her sleep and the only difference about these tears the ones that dried before her, is that the tears were for the two of us,not for being hurt but for me getting hurt and that hurt her, and it came out of her in a subconscious later state, kind of like me, this happened something like five years ago and it never gets old, ok , so here’s how THIS sad story goes; back to you, we were basically sleeping on the ground, I was tied up and bound, mothers little helper’s cheque bounced, I stupidly blame the devil in benzos but as of last Chinese new year I now denounce him, clonazepam is free from sin,(the cure), which I am resistant to so even though in the name of a better life I took 1/16th of an ounce I was still wide awake laying beside you, thinking only to myself about how I fucked up, it wasn’t even my own script at the time like u even need to know this it was a gift from the big Mc the tragically crip former editor in chief of legal manuscript, this bug makes the dj tick, and he made me, (sick) so (to this day I thank god for the count and amount per pill per day,,, throw your troubles away and pray that it was ok to stray from your holy bible, “psychology today”) So I was now bound for the pound, complete and total disgrace all around, from the moment u made that sound I knew our plans were going down that I would leave town, shoot smack and somehow return because YOU specifically gave the instruction to COME BACK! But things got whack I dropped out of school after taking philosophy which I passed, took drugs then relaxed let the nothing drone blare and move towards and away from the past managed to stay out of the psycho shack and somehow followed the chemical and psychological path out of the woods, fuck that was one long sidetrack, but it’s over, now, it took a year of wandering to end it but I did so…back before I initially left town your eye lids were down. I’d spent our whole friendship collectively letting you down by being ur favorite one in town and not responding in a way that could let us…. Fuck I was a clown,ever since I pulled a sigmen froid and used white to get off opiates it’s been renown but like the psychologist before me once declared, down (heroin) so satisfying in the right dose, has basically fulfilled their open ended prediction for the drugs future, in one shot like vaccine, the queen of all drugs, administered in the highest healthy dosage intravenously is the cure all found in Montreal, and then a deliberate clean cut from all non prescribed recreational narcotics, that is until the dreaded lady in white shows up on ur doorstep, I say let her in, and move away never to see her again, with the experience and satisfaction of the act of consuming heroin as your catalyst to change your life and only take clonazepam. So before all that we had a healthy friendship, it was doomed but I loved you so u kept me around and there was all sorts of ways we got down without ever fooling around except this time I discreetly describe further down when my phone ran out of batteries while you went to town , I thought I was a fuckin martyr because all id make u do is dance, that’s the gods truth so baaaack to me not being a creep, I geometrically see the opposing symmetrical verticy of our rhombus reveal its true ego as FUCKING TRAPAZOID when I hear your inner pain, I’m no hypnotist (yet) but u were zonked after a day of mosh pitting ultimately falling for the other guy, while I slept in the grass like an ASS. you let out a whimper in your sleep and two out of three of us knew, this chick is deep, from then on I took the title of weak, I had let my biological ancestors down with swords in their hands and in my hand your crown, and still I let you down, AND YOU STILL even tried several sexy and awkward times to make it happen and I let you down, u can tell a social disease when the same set of words are used multiple times to rhyme with other words that have that sound i.e. : I let you down. In that strange little town. It’s been well over a year and to end on a harmonious note after all this purple melancholy. I’m gunna say two words to you and they are not” “I do” It’sI’m sorry. I’m sorry lately for this poem, but mostly I’m sorry for not maturing into the man you thought I could be. I’m recovered from my early episodes now, took 16 years but I used the gear to properly hear and respond without fear, if only I did this within the time frame we had, Now were both sad. And I don’t wanna upset u, ur glowie or ur boyfriend or neone else, soo I’m gunna play a song, it’s called : one thing that keeps this black heart beating””(referring to my heart: that “upturned bass drum” The thing that keeps it beating is the dissonant and strangely beautiful siren song that echoes in my mind as the inspiration, “love” and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophies with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the momentmy phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche, at this moment I can prove using circumstantial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indecisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and physical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living things on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not necessarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings crescendos babies,, are when the energy isn’t circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, and the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, imparts her secret harbored denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, whether the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivotal form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense, my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misinterpreted until the last few seconds before the line went dead the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, literally loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symmetrically and quite similarly to your perfect face and body only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me, from the beach into the city, while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella, drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I stop, wait my energies charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged abilities that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit can’t explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery, the almost dead battery, poetic license and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, I’ve always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know threes more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours, in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, they knock me out, blow to the head, I’ll miss away you time instead, that lilliad inside your mind….it’s way too late you’re so unkind, but one important thing u need, to know I know u love to read, do not read too much to your seed, it makes a flower yer indeed, with pain killing power guaranteed, but this makes a subconscious need to find a source for output feed, destined to be completely freed ad finally have the urge to read, its therapy apparently, the experiment of reading aloud and they drift off on angels clouds, you think their gunna make you proud, well brace yourself, speakers are loud, they developed and were well endowed, language and its mystic power it not to be strewn on the flowers, this is my dependant variable, the words the use on me were terrible, a bird a seed knowledge unbearable, though every word is understandable, hypnotic methods subconscious dependable, lovely developmental psychology is the cause of my constant source of energy what I was born to do was reap, infinite knowledge in my sleep a steady drone of literature, I’m older now administer reality and life in place of shame rejection and disgrace, aside from my abilities that serve me independently, instinct survival evolution, speed all factors meant to help me breed, but would you read that to your seed, your surly growing potent weed, I’m not a normal human being I spend time speaking hearing seeing, proving while your disagreeing now the sheep are all fleeing, my purpose hear is slowly weaning I’m a negative source of positive energy, that means nothing drones glowies and friends that are enemies, all that I needs a path and an receiver, a sound to ride on, subwoofer and tweeters, it’s the music u shared with me that keeps me going The proof that our signal reached desired objectives, was clear to my ear which contained an elective, my minds using psychology to be less selective, behavioral science removes the block painlessly love, loss and malpractice grew my circuitry aimlessly, evolving survival instincts team with nature, my chemical background makes life like a phase, the instincts resulting are acute like a razor and amplified abilities through manipulating manipulative chemicals without wavers, resulting in behavior that can reach and amaze her… the extent of the damage is to be overlooked, by using knowledge and memory or reading a book design and time weren’t key features its transference of whines from student to teacher, let me out of detention you feminine creature ill read aloud it’s the right way to reach her, the demand and supply was shot at the sky and with lasers for eyes that reflect off her kind I was surprised to find that in no time I heard her wine, go out of her mind, and through her elective design I read junkie sublime and the fidelity was just fine for my desensitized mind. Literally proving her love up against my undying lazerlove therefore, proving that from that moment in time It was (now literally) one(the one) and another(me) falling “in love “officially identified by the subjective and objective forms that equal true love, for a time, which in rhyme and time I now feel it was divine, it’s began and ended in one harmonious line (in a Scottish accent no less) and buried in our minds getting weaker over time the signal is dying the whine and her trying has kept me flying farther away for lack of a sign that she was officially mine, but my nose it did grind on the stone learning life through the drone all on my own stealing crowns off of thrones, almost completely destroying my home, getting dipped in chrome, and then ground to the bone,, but that’s ok now because I how I know, I made her come through a phone, I’ve reaped what id sewn, now I am grown, with skills to hone no more wearing a cone, from the unknown to the known heralded by the morningdrone which is an inaudible tone interacting metaphysical rods and cones in my everlasting home among milestones made of greymatter behind bone in the form of the intangible moan that has royalties owned by the one xylophone a tone so foreign and feminine it may be that of a banshee or crone, the soil of my subconscious, is where I’ve been instructed and shown but my chance was blown there already something growin that knows the suns light is shown, now I’m alone, why did I buy that bus ticket when I could have flown. Another way of iterating this love story is an s follows introduction, obstruction instruction, induction, seduction production reduction destruction I’m trying to link two portions of this production, causing a reaction like a light turning on send notification from yin to yang (2 great friends of the opposite sex ultimately consummating their union in the way nature wanted it to be) but for us it was highly evolved in that even over the lo-fi filter of cell phones she was sending her love, whether she got off or not that id like ton know, but,, I got the drone of her during, (which if I’m not wrong is typically the main attraction for most women, their anatomy makes for a better “during” in her case conveniently, I’ll admit, without my flawed physical presence, I’m sure she didn’t just give up when my phone ran out of batteries, she was by the banks of her own lagoon, , the stimuli for me, the understanding an witnessing this correlative reaction, correlative because based on all the evidence, the great friendship which was WE were In Love,,,, that passes by my standard and I’m a philosophy grad, this Idea of me and this one girl being in love ISNT EVEN PRAGMATIC like most of my theories, the ONLY thing that get in the way of it being classified as nething between us other than, well I’m afraid to word it frankly because it makes y philosophy look dumb, the only factor threatening this TRUTH, this explainable objective form, is.. the time frame, the setting and the timing of the whole ordeal, my argument is that my reserved intense devotion that was pretty much spellbound, was appropriately (although delicately and let’s say modernly)relieved back to square one, literally and true even though it’s in the days ahead, metaphysic means dead.\\ I’m pretty lonely, so I make allot of art these days, like so; since she left me for dead and we both had left town, with thoughts of her crying asleep on the ground, my mind plays a drone, just to keep the pain down, it’s the girls very essence, oh to hear those pipes sound, if I was there this reel could have burned her house down, But our minds were both trying, Scottish lyrics I had, her bagpipes were sighing, and droning like mad, even though I was dying to get under her plaid, her fingers were flying and the lyrics were “rad the sound of her drones blared through the aero phones, I had broken a string and the bow had no rozen, but her body remembered what she had forgotten, string breaking caused her heat up and harden, this dissonant silence was her chance to depart from his flaws and his jigs and his odds and his rigs and ivy wrapped wand honey drippin upon this Venus in tartan who gushed forth the art of his masculine heart, the yin joins the yang and d string goes twang, The key that she played in was the string that I broke;I awoke in a doria mile off the coast. I swear by the sword of Ulysses and QueenMary’s crown you can’t quiet this siren when she fools around. Sending me to the moon and abyss on her sound It’s siren heart drone and that’s written in stone like I said, STELLAR, and you can TELLHER, most likely shell be a be a BETTER SPELLER, most likely ull say THE WORST THING EVER cause you’re a BULLSHIT SELLER, wave got mutual friends that FLOCK TOGETHER, social cannibals up shit creek FOREVER “sharp fanged teeth sheep” identified by Brethr in touch with friends of mine with FEATHERS, who govern karma AND THE WEATHER harmonizing OUR ENDEVOUR dissonance and TAKING PLEASURE in currents charged “+”, sea vessel PROPELLERS droning on for OH SWEET NEVER, nothing “like” inevitably BETTER the next “day, mon” frère, myself sharply dressed, a new pair of ‘GO GETTERS’ high, but fly, “the local YELLER” inscribes, as I dictate the true, (and prescribed), (in “”blood)-”LETER”! …BUY LETTER!”technique””’s psychology thesis of persuasion,-through love cure for; pain from shame stemming from taking the blame for the psychopaths that are perfectly sane who corporally, “embodying hells flames, wicked games to derange, the use of tools to cause pain, so the hands free to gain more control without shame ….and words that confuse and lead them in. vein cutting through lies and psychosomatic pain” making it rain your blood to put out the flames, an empty vessel that openly claims he righteously bears the right to OFFSET karma in his favorite time double negatives stuck on rewind with the fist or the tool of thing without mind, just current flowing into itself sustaining itself by shackling you with a voice that speaks truths that the vessel and devil greedily use to ultimately abduct you consume love your subconscious would refuse to give, to lose, so you wind kicking yourself while he rips on your soul defacing and displacing what’s left of you, what set you apart from a caved in shoe who’s uneven because the others got two, souls are unbreakable but if he breaks you, ill have the words the voice and the truth, the vessel in which to put soul into you, love and affection reflecting on you a new pair of shoes and so basically you feeling loved and in good mood no longer producing that parasite food, by walking and talking, souls in your shoes, while my bare feet support prescribed truth, a chemical network of mes and you ultimately held together with glue your love is the only way I can get through my psychological problems of which I have used to heat cook and serve us both food they drive me to supplementing love with miscues, attempts to draw a good picture of shoes, that drawn the attention of someone like you, or someone who offers a love I can’t refuse, because it me who also has many a bruise, the glue the chemical I trust and I use are prescribed and administered with bruit force and tools, leaving the chemically gifted unloved and unused and undone on the run with the songs you have sung, giving u satisfaction, and leaving u hung out to dry by the sick and the dumb, and the one, that u can give a gift to, is the only way we can say I love you and the fact that we are is what makes it true now I can scrape this shit right off your shoe, here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singing the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones too, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code,I’ll let the field talke care I m old, its time to end thiflodi broke the mouldand me with my everything about the shoe, its maker your sou out your soul leaving with bound by psychosocial with day moon SETTERS. home made psychopath GET ER, and lose her to a knitted SWEATER meant to the and if shit hits the fan in my house you become a fuckin CAVE DWELLER you officially for me heralded the dawn of freed energy so metaphysical seed dropped and sewn that day I guess what I a tying to say is seroquel can kill the day and lithium when charged can phase can kill your kidney and your craze over sirens who’ve been underground their perfect face and al around static in the air and sound of talismans and something foud induction tells you write this down what she conducts may flood the town, and this guythatts on the other line isn’t he a project of mine, sais nurse so cute and fine that flirt with my bipolar mind could his stimuli be cut, (if my nurse heard that shed bust my nut the think I’m guna get more worse nuclear winters parallel universe but bipolar ppls irony ill crack the joke an ice your nuclear explosion twice a day while I’m away leading weak dicks astray but giving your negative drones away the moans that I’m familiar with the point is I’m sick, was born with antennae metaphic that can even change channels like sappic girl on girl to girl on me altering duality and that what I get for free cable metaphysically so u better charge your battery, start the car pray she needs a guy with speed, instead of the duality of loving and love being received define love for me because lm low on batteries, finally the irony iron like steel I’m not even funny she gave me a drone that carried me home plate metal armor still that suckers dethroned all because of the ironic poem guaranteed to call my home circuitry and sacred tones, hooked up to my broke dying alone charge that she hears in my voice instinct are what’s the driving force to be my Venus in furs of course striking my eardrums while art of a new form could cure my heart, when deprivation and avant-garde combine to make things into art the the thing that makes drones stop and start my wordsandfingers take a form that independently grows horns, what an art to harmonize your frequencies with, smart, you dirty little butter tart you were supposed to cure my heart at least u got it throughtome you rising storm makes my anteenae start to channel lo-fi forms a and v imnow starting to clearly see I got to hear pure femininity express its love physically, while the ironic truth is easy to see, that my talisman masxulinity had no hand in physically and so my strengths like mediocrity, thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculine frequency that was enough to ride that came through the airwaves only a dined, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjectively means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite ur reaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely ur still a part of me, like the wasted energy of a missing battery that from within bears a charge, that was meant to be, the high voltage current, of hot energy. wat a grT TRIP THIS IS, ALTHOUGH ONG AND UNCOMFORTABLE AT LES I STILL HAVE ROCK AND ROLL AND BY DIVINE TIMING WE TOO A STROLL ADNTALKED A LITTLE THATS MY GOAL AND NOTHING DRONES AND HEAVY STONES WERE LEVITATED WITH THE MOAN OF SIRENSS BUT YOUR NOT A PHONE AND NO SUPRIZE CANT LEAVE ALONE OW I THRIV OFF DIAL TONED CAUSE IM DEPENDANT ON YOU STONE THE TALISMAN YOU CALL MY HHOME AND THAT TIE YOU CALLED ME ON THE PHON YOU WERE IN MY HEAD SAFE IN YOUR HOME BAD TIMING AND A HEAVY TONE BATTERIES DEAD: NOW WERE NOTHING DRONES…………………………………………………………….. thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculin frequency that was enough toride that came through the airwaves only a denied, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjective by means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite urreaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely Seroquel can ‘kill. The day’, and lithium (when charged) can phase, can kill your kidneys and your ‘“crazy” laser ray’s perspective.’ Meant for sirens, waves, underground stalactites, space, and drops of acid rain onto your base. Meant to cauterize with time and phase the straight; your sex, the Vikings take, and that edge they use to reap and waste. ((their secret way through; to slice through the glazed over passageway, that freezes waves of blood they made. Turned to crimson ice seen by my red hot rays, melt into salty ocean sprays) Then not so far away at night I kill the day and reap twilight, my heat turns from red to white like scars that weep acid rain despite my efforts, however insane, you do this over and over again) Relief; from emotional THEN/BY physical pain. In that order, we’re both deranged. here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singin the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’m tired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code, It’s meant for: a couple; of different: ppl 1 knø james ((pérsunµli); ‘(urThInKn èù¹d “Like¹¹ i+ Th0µGh))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ) — ¹o-² øس=FOUR!!!!!!!!²O_O³⁴!! (0_0)T0o?O_o)❤µ¼FOR¼ldd.”( þ+¹na!’(LOL!)?,X&Y” =ø(þ iN þÉd àvèç¹<>³µ)/(µø+þ²)ùþ³@ — ¹²³¹²³¹²³¹²³ James McFarlane• Ideas About mental Illness — James McFarlane Here’s my theory on paranoia. (Usually considered a negative symptom of psychosis) It can help gather information or misinform those who experience it. Even in wellness it is always potentially present in all of us. It’s a survival instinct. It makes us more attentive. My unique experience and understanding is when paranoia and other symptoms are present, heightened and amplified alertness to important information perceived by the senses is collected and whatever data is missing the brain either fills it in with logical thought or logical hallucination in some cases. I will further iterate this several ways for you to better grasp it. For most people there is so much excess data you wind up believing a falsity. Simple logic should let you know best which is most accurate among the extra data collected by suspicion, inner thoughts and hallucination ultimately fitting like Lego into the fractured “factual” data perceived. I believe mostly it is our internal sense of logic that is used to make hallucinations like dreams that appear similar to our regular reality. It is your sense of logic that determines how accurate the thought or hallucination might be compared to reality. It is hard to determine between reality and hallucination because hallucination adheres to reality. But if you can detect like in a lucid dream (aware of being in a dream) that it’s a hallucination you’re ok. It’s not that difficult to determine what thought or hallucination fits if you’re experiencing (or expecting) allot of symptoms having an automatic thought process that simplifies things by showing the most accurate possibility alone to the individual by involuntary thoughts and possibly hallucination. This can be a more accurate depiction of what’s not reachable by the actual senses. The point or idea is that hallucinations and involuntary thoughts mimic reality as best they can, so, they can be used to determine what is beyond our senses reach either corresponding with the senses themselves (hallucination) or through mind talk (which is the method that most mimics what we call telepathy and is much more controlled and has less effect on your behaviour and environment than hallucination). This mind talk or “intrusive thoughts” can be our sense of logic. It’s our sense of what’s real that makes up our involuntary thoughts and hallucinations so they’re may be an ounce or two of truth in them even though they aren’t real they can be identical ideas to what is really there. This is to be used for those who can’t see or hear what are out of reach of their senses like sonar or radar and further aid those who have and impairment or just want to experiment with extending their senses. This only applies to the unwell. Like I have said amphetamine could mimic the hypomanic state in regular people perhaps. This could be a tool for treating a range of mental disorders. Depression, lack of communication in certain critical mental conditions.(Alzheimer’s etc.) It’s not just guessing at involuntary thoughts and hallucinations, the tool combines accurate and distorted data collected by the senses. This extends the senses that help us try to understand. (Only some of us may have this as a mental pattern). You may be calling this a delusion well I call a delusion an idea. And remember, an idea can make the body including the brain do interesting things. Mono ideo dynamics Determining what’s real and what’s not isn’t a problem here, you know what’s a thought and an actual sound or hallucination when this is occurring so if they combine to make a more accurate awareness with good results than it doesn’t matter whether it’ telepathy or a mental tool isolated to the mind its generating data for the individual I assure you. Collecting data even from other people’s minds is definitely a factor in this theory (it’s a tangent but it’s important.) Involuntary thought is inner thought that appears to be info coming from an obvious source or other person. This is when the argument for delusion is most appropriate. Telepathy is a possible conclusion in the case of mind chatter or involuntary or external thoughts unlike ‘sense extension’ which is a potential tool involving similar aspects but also the actual environment. The mind to mind thing doesn’t involve physical reality like the sense extension theory which involves hearing and assuming all five senses if you were sick enough could improve the perception of our environment by way of hallucination corresponding with the senses, verses logical lingual additions to your line of thought (involuntary thoughts) which can be thought alone (mind talk) This opens a window to hybrid hearing combining involuntary thought with semi audible data, this was my first discovery and personal experience along the line of useful mental activity. So I would call it all external or involuntary mental data. The reason I included the telepathy as idea in this was because sense extension which may be provable is using the same material our thoughts are made of suggesting that the other ideas are worth experimenting with. I suggest mental information can be projected into the metaphysical reality affectively by a person just like shouting a person’s name. This is blatantly how it works from my perspective. What we imagine goes out into the air and some of us are there to hear it within our thoughts; mind chatter. Talking to yourself in your head as well as other transmissions or incoming additions. Not something we do all the time. Some people rarely do it or experience it. These are introspective expressions nevertheless they are the fabric of what sense extension involves. So if sense extension, (because it uses the senses, reality and hallucination/involuntary thought) can be tested and valuable info is collected from those tests, because of its use of involuntary thoughts which mimics telepathy, it could help prove or add merit to the idea of telepathy and its other explanations that are as follows. Proving telepathy involves seeing how things like sense extension is in the same weave as actual things we use or experience like thought, mental chatter, hallucination, dreams. This part of the universe is becoming objective when using a hybrid or functional form to better understand our surroundings. Just believing in these functions and experiencing them improves your regular perception and observational skills. These are hybrid metaphysical tools for perceiving your surroundings by use of hallucination and or thought and actual fractured data picked up by the senses. I tackle this mind chatter idea more so because it’s a solid symptom that doesn’t fail, like hallucination often does. Thoughts in the form of language coming from people around you or your multipersonalitied conscience is a good thing as long as it’s a good thing. When it no longer is in the range of being able to be used as a tool, these thoughts can be turned off or turned on by meds and belief or disbelief in the idea. But when it’s happening properly, like in hypomania, it does act as an aid in awareness of what’s most likely going on in other people’s thoughts. It informs you of the most likely thought usually in relation to you, aiding you every time by making you aware of something you didn’t know before. Word for word telepathy is a miracle, mental chatter that informs you of what’s most accurately going on in other people’s heads by way of involuntary lingual statements in the mind is not. It’s worth investigating, it’s a gift that has never led me to harm, only understanding. The fact that it’s in your head makes it a passive process where you have the option of responding or not, verbally or mentally if you’re a believer in telepathy. You can have communications, often in the form of mental lingual impressions from people around you, as long as their chattering in their heads. More often they respond verbally or through body language. (This could be also called a thought related delusion, and it probably is) Like sense extension it helps figure out without effort what’s most likely going on somewhere else but this involves getting a mental impression of what’s going on in someone else’s head and apparently only if It’s about you or directed to you, mostly. Telepathy and sense extension go hand in hand. What’s real and usable and what’s a symptom may need to be looked over and not just thrown in the isolation chamber. Mind chatter and thought insertion are two different things I think. Thought insertion means you think someone or something else is in your head and it is overwhelming. Mind chatter or “telepathy” follows a pattern of logic that is more precise than your own usually, it follows a rule, I am certain of it. That’s why it’s better to use cause it’s your intuition delivered lingualy. Thought insertion is like having someone else in control, whereas mind chatter is somewhat under control and mostly in your control as you are the experienced one. Involuntary thoughts (other people’s voices) could be telepathy and if it follows such a dynamic and structured law it should not be called thought insertion. Sense extension is something more practical and objective than telepathy type thinking, but it is untested and like I said, I deal with mind talk even when I am well and it is always accurate and helpful. The idea of partly using data from the peripheries of our trusted senses shows that these elements are not to be underrated or mislabelled. The fact that we can only see farther stars in the sky by looking off to the side is a great example of use of the peripheries of our senses. Similar is my experience of seeing peoples more true emotions on their faces when using peripheral vision. Is esp or just one example of a passive and informative hallucination? Let us not throw aside my interpretation of the experience of useful and unique mental activity by giving it the unattractive label of thought insertion when the fundamentals of these ideas may be useful for inventing evolution like tools to reach out into parts of the universe we have not yet studied. Distorted senses combined with an inherent logical thought process that is accurate if not pragmatic I my experience in every case. This could be an opportunity to reopen the study of parapsychology. (The fact that these are just an accurate perception mechanism is good enough). To reveal this delusion, we’ll assume all this is still only going on in one’s active imagination. However using a pattern of brain activity that mimics telepathy as a tool to read his/her environment better is cool; the only difference this has to sense extension is that there is no real life data involved. This in my opinion makes it the most commonly used and confronted with, solid, and most effective tool I deal with. (even when well) There are practices like muscle reading which is getting data through seeing a person’s movement that are examples of a semi proven method that mimic things like telepathy. I propose mental activities that are involuntary and positive like some of the symptoms of a mental illness, could be used as a link between what we see as dysfunctional mental activity and a breakthrough into the endeavour to prove that thoughts are part of our dynamic world as a form and can be used as a medical or social tool. This mental activity in serious cases of unwellness can alter the way we operate, not just the way we think. Paranoia could take over and it could be false data, and the repercussions could crescendo. In their reality and in reality itself. I say listening to your thoughts (whatever form they take) and interpreting them, it’s safer than experimenting with hallucination because mind chatter can be a factor in hypomania and in wellness. Only in the case of hallucination being used in a controlled environment with positive energy being present, for instance with a schizophrenic, they can be very well while hallucinations are still present. If in that state the hallucination tends follow what the senses are trying to perceive and use a situation like the sense extension experiment involving hallucination and obstructed hearing it may prove to be a good tool/idea possibly for aiding the hearing impaired in this situation or a similar situation that works. It could work because it could fill in more data where it was lacking and it may inherently be attempting to be accurate. This attempt is evident in other mental processes mentioned here. In the case of experimenting with this type of thing never should you be depressed manic, psychotic or over whelmed with psychological issues. If you are in an unwell state seek help, but be open to the new ideas that may present themselves to you. Know that the brain is elastic and does heal. The hippocampus and you are always growing. If it’s suggesting that its telepathy aiding us and guiding us that makes you sceptical I’m not going to just drop it. Be pragmatic and get a bit more insight into how it worked for me. First off, all that makes it telepathy as I’ve said is that it only involves thought. One thing that suggests that it is a thought from another source is the amount of unusable but accurate information that comes along with these seemingly incoming transmissions. It behaves like a mental environment that doesn’t involve just you; the metaphysical plain. You mostly hear in your thoughts what applies to you from those around you but there is other mental exclamations at times coming from different sources for different destinations, or in most cases mental exclamations just for themselves. Also getting an involuntary thought of apparently what is being said somewhere completely out of reach of the senses is a factor here. This is bigger than the structure of telepathy. If you are being talked about in the other room the brain informs you of it and who is saying it, this is clearly a survival instinct to gain intelligence of what may be out there and what most likely is, this type of sense may be evidently seen and utilized more by animals than humans. Probably because of the invention of language, putting the sense in recession. These ideas suggest that the metephysical plain is not just in my head but is there for everybody (and that privacy may be an issue.) The experienced and well user of the mental functions could actually receive and send out positive and effective transmissions with a ripple effect, real or not. (for what it’s worth, even to gain confidence and boost chemicals, respond and react accordingly to these transmissions and you’ll find it fits and improves your presence and role in the situation, that’s my experience) while the sick are just spiralling and not even communicating because their usually using negative or confusing behaviour or energy. What’s also evident of its existence is the obviousness the transmissions go both ways. I’m not just getting your impression of me in my thoughts; it’s obvious you’re getting mine. Its conjoint mental activity. It involves everyone but I think it requires a guide. If these are just symptoms, they rarely intensify and do dissipate more or less with wellness. I say if it’s not the metaphysical plain it’s at least explained by two minds appearing to correspond by (often coincidentally) one playing out the others activity as accurately as it can within the mind. This as a law would be evident enough to prove telepathy. I see a constant pattern in when the transmitters communicate, that they are thinking that thought and responding to one another (seen though body language and verbal responses. That’s telepathy like activity rationalised. It’s not always word for word because often I ask and they say no I did not think those words. Apparently it’s a mental impression of yourself delivered in the form of verbal thoughts or inaudible expressions from other people in the vicinity or elsewhere. Finally the hybrid hearing idea.The most effective and safe of the ideas here. (Thought and hearing mixed) It would be hard to disprove because of a lack of qualified candidates and the scenarios required. The hybrid hearing idea like I’ve said is not activity isolated only to thought, but the idea that involves using factual data and the imaginary simultaneously. Sense extension without hallucination. Deciphering between actual sense and involuntary thought is easy, you know what you hear and what you think, they become conjoint in some mental states indicating that the possibility of an extension “fill in the blacks” scenario. Know that this involves either an overactive imagination. The logical involuntary lingual thought mental activity combined with the brains attempt to hear the less audible is a marriage that could create the extension of the impaired or out of reach sense (hearing in this case) What I propose is happening here may be hearing the bass of a conversation because bass carries farther, and your mind places the other frequencies (treble) in the form of an involuntary imaginary sound. I suggest this is too intricate and accurate to be delusion. To actually be aware of the volume according to the distance or nature of the info that comes from not the unknown but an obvious source is evident of that intricacy. The psychotic skills talked about here are among the skills we’re all born with. All humans are capable of psychosis. Which is the foundation of these things. I just find mania to be safe, similar and more of an advantage. Our brains and beings all have an inner need and desire to figure out what is reality. Even when that reality is obstructed, it uses other means to get around to perceiving the world correctly. This line of thought has the potential to be a step forward in changing others view of these symptoms. To suggest that they are meant to be enhance to our advantage, not abolished; this is the stuff of change at an evolutionary level because as I said earlier it does involve everybody and anybody. The Chemically Endowed / THE HEALTH SYSTEM James McFarlane June 1st, 2016 Mania is the increasing of one’s “reward” chemicals in the brain chronically (a symptom of Bipolar). A fact about mania is that it is not so often as out of control as we are tempted to assume. We don’t know the limits it can push positive wise. A negative aspect is surely something that we have seen occasionally. An example could be a world leader like Alexander the great. On the positive side of it are people like Van Gough and many other artists, teachers and authors. Making tireless efforts at just causes inspired by epiphany is just one of the activities a bipolar individual has the option of pursuing. (Sometimes with phenomenal results) This can be a positive activity of the broad ranged individual. Mania is an abundant source of potential positive energy. The mythical Greek god Dionysus has been called the god of mania. He partied allot and was the estranged son of Zeus. There were cults formed in his honor and the remanence of them still exist today as a common and highly manipulated, manipulative tradition known as the entertainment industry. Antianxietys, antidepressants, antipsychotics and mood stabilizers; drugs that (have attributes that researchers have neglected to even identify) help and plague the bipolar individual as the most commonly used tool to ward off symptoms. In some cases, recreational drugs like amphetamine ((that seem to force up the mood of an individual) among drugs that are normally oriented with unwellness)) I suggest, could be a surprising aid in speeding up the recovery process of depression (the opposing symptom in bipolar to mania which have psychosis as a common theme at the peripheries of both poles of experience) through cognitive stimulation. This is important because antidepressants take several weeks to take effect and suicide could be prevented by the induction of a more open approach to medical uses of recreational drugs. This activity should be combined with social interaction in the case of recovery because it surrounds the recovery of the social aspects of the self (I do not recommend this as the first option for a recovery process). Like most drugs this behavior may take years off the recovery process but could wind up taking years off your life. If closely watched and tested the medicinal benefits of illegal or unreaserched drugs as well as further data released on drugs in general and their common circumstances may be a great stride in the remedy of mental, psychological conditions and social misconceptions which solutions are still being put off by ignorance of the populous and adverse political agendas. Other treatment options not listed above include electroshock therapy and psychical exercises like cognitive behavioural therapy. These alternatives are used less most likely because pharmaceuticals are a huge part of controlling the populous and funding corporations and government. However, a regimented combination of any of these factors could be a breakthrough for some. Called “consumers” by people that work in the pharmaceutical industry, these human beings endowed with seemingly new chemicular behaviors have a heavy cross to bear. I believe that it is obviously possible that over half the population (just to be fair) are born chemically inclined, but forced under the heel of the majority of the others who are from my perspective, psychologically twisted by ignorance, power over the sick, and unjustified behaviour based (((most likely (just to be fair) for some, subconsciously))) on either inherent or just blatant jealousy. I say this because the majority of people in a position of dominance in our society, (security guards, nurses, the police, doctors what have you) are brutally unfair, unprofessional, and ignorant in most cases. This attitude fuels the biggest and oldest and crudest intolerance ever committed by one group against its own people. The mentally endowed verses the psychologically twisted and everyone in between or strung along is the latest and oldest injustice I can see other than the genocide of the shamanistic cultures of north and south America. The most obviously funded sick lack of justice and care for their own counterpart (ever challenged till present day) by a government is currently at hand. It’s a matter of time and interest among corporations. Their need for money will guarantee that the proper drugs will be the end of this problem. Their survival as a business is the only co-dependent factor for the cause. Once the sick become well, ((the inevitable outcome (already achieved)) the drugs will be reinvented a few times ultimately plateauing as a renewable idea by these scientific salesman and their evil subordinates running the place like some kind of sick joke to themselves. Those who wield tools and permission to inflict pain, bondage and any form of abuse they find delectable simply to put off paperwork (and sooth their own often nocturnal boredom) only assigned to be used in the inevitable malpractice suits soon to be ensued by the just with the just against the corrupt. With blunt force and jealousy against their only threat and reliable witness to the sick twisted 24 hour a day fetish of legally and illegally taking the rights and freedoms and everything that makes life desirable from the ill to make way for a prolonged treatment of abuse and betrayal from the psychologically bent nurses and security guards, doctors, police not to forget your everyday sociopath / psychopath walking the streets and perverting the direction and attention of the staff and patients of mental health wings across the country (Canada). Folks like these who lack the basic right and wrong skills, used obviously and openly by the sick and the meek to inevitably over throw the ranks of sociopaths and psychopaths governing, misusing and perverting the writing of history. All of their efforts put into this “note taking” endeavour to be rewarded with indulgence into the sick pleasures of a dysfunctional beauracracy and political disgrace to be. As for the sick, (and well) the neglect of one’s health and deterioration of relationships is often inevitable during episodes and when being forced against such characters mentioned above. These new victims often leaving the institution with their own newly afflicted psychological scars. This is understandable considering how different and under informed the external world and the unbalanced individual usually are. The unwell individual tends to get overwhelmed with heightened and distorted perception, and the outside worlds clashes with their reality. Inevitably against their will, (usually after lots of experience) and sadly, many forms of legalized abuse from the system that seems to be above all law, they become accustomed to the system and more knowledgeable about medication. This is the only way I’ve seen someone become well, for longer. It’s important to channel the knowledge from their experience into productive endeavours. This is the exceptional goal. Chemicals are a big part of the inclined individual’s life (Pharmaceutical, natural and usually recreational). Often enough a well-balanced person emerges but the fight against unwellness and addiction is ongoing for many. Even once well, the psychological challenges of adjusting to life can set in. Thankfully this is also treatable either with anxiety medicine or therapy (or in the case of the Canadian health system, prolonged and tormenting hospital stays crudely striped with prolonged bondage and isolation chambers. Psychology being the completely unfunded and rightful alternative. Wellness comes with time and knowledge as well as trial and error. The potential experience for these individuals is more than the average prescription. Logically and philosophically looking at these problems is key to understanding them. Stigma; it’s a thing like racism that is rampant in every culture today but especially in western culture apparently. A mild example of stigma is using a negative label or misconception such as “split personality” or “psycho”. These are words attached to now folklore, lies and misunderstanding so this ignorance is apparently the first thing to go. In the case of bipolars, it is often amplified social ability versus depression or other emotional states that is confused with complete loss of judgement. Schizophrenics seem to have an even keel in terms of personality in most cases. I know there is no mood disorder but full on hallucinations. This could be due to an unexplained increased constant source of dopamine in their system I suggest gets used to produce complex distractions that could be used to their own advantage, like poetry etc.. (Unproven connection) The biggest problem is the assumption our government and citizens have; that the mentally ill are violent. This ultimately subjects us to being treated like escaped zoo animals by every authority figure you can think of. This is how they legally get us into straps; the word violent. This word can be used in ways it shouldn’t which is often the case. Once declared violent and mentally ill you’re bound for a living hell most likely for quite some time. All the ugly side effects of the system itself leave you psychologically damaged. You get a fate worse than prison by far, especially if you’re rebellious. I have rarely if ever have seen an act of violence towards another from a person that lives in a society that has them already sedated, and threatened by fearful ignorant authority figures with shackles, tasers, injections and cruelty in general at the ready. I’ve mostly seen vigilance or peaceful protest in those in an unwell state, simply because they have the logic to see what they’re up against. We’ve seen this all our lives. Even those who fight back really never had a chance to show that they meant no harm. I say this because our common goal as this type of person is to be understood. While up against a mass of smug sociopath liars who are constantly projecting joyously in groups that we’re mentally incompetent and incapable. This whole thing makes me want to kick an isolation room wall in and pull out the insulation over and over again. That type of treatment on that scale and for that length of time inspires anger in the most emotionally controlled of individuals. This type of passive brutality cannot be easily understood by people who are on a regular level of unchanging dopamine and serotonin. Basically, it is those who are in control and uninformed that are inevitably inflicted with the stigma for mental illness otherwise these are used as tools by the PhDs that as of late have the audacity to wield side effects deceptively like better acting medication (as well as transference upon their staff). Mania is a powerful source of energy. Success of any kind is a possibility with people that have the genetic makeup of the bipolar individual and quite possibly the schizophrenic and schizoaffective system casualties. Most who blindly submit are in a sedated or in a financially constricted reality for most of their lives. However massive bodies of work that gain quality over time with practice are usually seen with all types of mentally ill individuals. Productivity is a given with excess energy and hopefully with excess dopamine. This is something the bipolar individual has at their disposal. (The excess dopamine, like I stated earlier, being the undiscovered advantage for schizophrenic and hybrid diagnosis individuals). If psychological ailment is part of ones developmental makeup, seek help through private practices in your nearest large city center, like psychologist offices, astrological predictions or the cheaper alternative; fortune cookies. ((all systems more trustable than the political money grab being masqueraded by the Canadian government and god knows where)). Hobbies will get lots of attention and skills like writing will be improved for most. Phenomenal ideas and activities must be given attention. It must come from a desire to be appreciated in a world that sees them as useless and treated as such as well as resentment for the genetic advantage and the mitochondrial patterns I will stipulate below. First off I am compelled to write; things like physical agility are improved as well when new energy comes along. Now, the organelle mitochondria in animal cells produces energy for the cell. Like the patterns of the near solar system and probably menstrual cycles and similar monthly patterns recorded to date, all of these cells (differing by their design) work as groups. Most likely shifting by the behavior and the pressures of the environment and or the environments one is involved with as well as (chiefly) the positive verses negative intentions or energy put forth. The positive being more strong and more apt to gaining velocity compared to negative endeavours while the ignorant become subjected to rapid, (fuelled by culture and social upheaval) evolutionary de-emphasis. Tradition will save many who are open minded. It has been theorized that a person who inherits the bipolar gene may have abnormal mitochondrial activity. I reiterate that this would cause fluctuating energy production for the whole body and possibly more so for the brain, ultimately spiking or dropping essential consciousness related chemicals like serotonin and dopamine. Mainly above the baseline of level as far as positive living goes indicating that it’s an innovative evolutionary trait. (These chemicals and the proper medicine are prime factors for the bipolars however independent) the natural chemicals)) These are known simply as chemicals that affect our mood. Or sometimes referred to as (and in everyone’s experience) reward chemicals (endorphins) and oxytocin (the love chemical). The mitochondrial theories as well as more psychological rather than biological theories (i.e. “mono-ideo dynamics”) are unproven. (most called into question more than 100 years ago left unelaborated but proposing a hypothesis unfinished on purpose, ie. Mono-ideo dynamics meaning that an idea can make the body do anything the body is capable of to the peripheries, any part of the body. The “any” part of course cautiously suggesting the brain) The future of mental health I would say is the extensive categorizing of the dosage and drug or treatment in relation to different types of people or circumstances. (i.e. more than 10 conditions, more like a dictionary of conditions to be) Also, once the medical scam plateaus (due to actual research and political attention) psychology as a treatment method will be implemented beyond nurses attempting some form of cognitive behavioral therapy. It is those employed to work with the mentally ill and the graduates of psychology or related studies who must insist on more data collection and way more research into the possibilities the mind itself can offer in medical treatment of all illness. It occurs to me now obviously that psych has been previously placed on the priority list as secondary to the drug trade and religion so to gain funding for an renewable priceless trade like deduction of illogical pursuits and outcomes. (A basic form of psychology that should aid dangerous things like delusion and the laws of attraction). Psychology research mut be put on the forefront so we can get meds chosen, dosages corrected and diagnoses discovered and made faster and more accurately. (And produce more jobs in all levels of the field of medicine) It’s a century old marriage and divorce between medicine, and free will. Psychology should be treated as equally as important as medicine as it is half the battle against corruption of our society, ecosystem and those who inhabit it. Back to the original induction and pragmatic endeavour of self controlling mental chemicals that have their own agenda, or the agenda of the moon and the weather; the social activities of a manic person can be difficult to put up with for others because it’s constant and overbearing at times. This factor most likely is being brought up because of my experience with passive aggressive tendencies. What is interesting is that it can stimulate chemicals in people around the source (more importantly I say between couples). Basic emotional chemicals like endorphins and oxytocin (excitement, survival and `love` related chemicals in any order) can be increased in other people at higher than normal rates and levels (not to mention the freed individual themselves). These chemicals can be a blissful and natural human experience when people are close to one another. This can be achieved through stylized communication between persons. In cases of manic people with other manic people; it’s a vibrant social atmosphere. It’s manifesting the inner emotion or thought into reality or more commonly manifesting it into iteration. In any case one can activate the other pretty easily without consumption of any substance. Any communication and body language is the stimulation factor here when differing types of people get together. This is what psychology is; ‘Behaviour changing chemicals, changing environment’. Boring and seemingly opposing efforts is also a common occurrence because it’s hard to stay positive for most and for those around them because, it’s been a long battle and opposites attract. Phrases like that as well as phrasing like “everybody’s different” is an indication that intellect and work ethic are also independent factors essential to the coexisting of partners in general. The state best to experiment in as far as is hypomania (medium mania) or even just wellness. Ways to activate a slow rise in your serotonin level if you’re not bipolar would be using a mild stimulant like amphetamine (Dexedrine). This is not something to try on your own. I’m suggesting this to be a carefully overseen test involving chemicals that are dangerous to be used in excess and for prolonged periods of time. If you become manic, know that once your manic states have passed and you’re well you still possess the ability to partake in and test different psychological and parapsychological activities (it does stay with you and up to date). One thing to discover while well is that a person can up their brain’s chemicals at will without the use of drugs, rather, behaviour or behavioural exercises. Once you’ve done that and or submitted to the opposing factors of the weaker you are both freed. This has been going on for billions of years in many forms. Dancing, sex, geometry, sensory deprivation (like vision quests or modern culture traditions) gaining knowledge about the earth from the stars, cultural and group oriented endeavours like art or chemical revolution (i.e. drugs rock and roll all stimulate the body chakras as well as the earth’s). Other theories basically thrown around by the wiser of the eastern west in the form of literature or poetry comes to mind, like; “electricity comes from other planets”, in relation to mono-ideo dynamics in relation to bipolars and nature; “The Gift” etc. (The Velvet Underground, 1969). All of these “foggy notions” are there for usually the reason they’re being inspired, meaning put art intentions and science together and you’ve got something good. Unless you succumb to the marketplace. Only drugs inspire chemicals on command without the need for circumstance (this is a modern cultural tradition). The nature of mania is that you become ‘antennae’ of sorts that more easily gathers information. It’s up to you what you do with your energy or your manic that turns the tides in your favour. Your perception may be higher in this state, but there (as always) is; a down side of it as there is duality in all things in nature. Psychosis depression and psychological problems plague the inexperienced young bipolar individual’s lives until an effective treatment plan is accepted or forced on them. Other ways to cushion this (and to avoid too many episodes) is complying with treatment plans to your liking and staying away from recreational drugs for the most part. Or rather, opposing and cheating the laws of the flawed marketplace. The process as a whole is always a learning experience for most. For sure, unbalanced brains are the next step in biological evolution. The union of the mind and body, the relationship between the physical and metaphysical, and how human culture is merged with the ethereal will occur along with the reopening of the practices originating from primitive psychology like the agenda of the heavenly bodies of fire above. Victim Psychology One thing I have realized over the past many years is that there are two kinds of people in the world; the aggressors and the passive. Like the chimps and the bonobos, the psychopaths and the victimized, the sociopath and the weary guardian, the farmer and the farm animal, the nurse and the sickly the dominant prey upon the weak. I have found the sociopath to be friendly and the psychopath to be gentlemanly and wise at times. This does not condone they’re compulsive destructive social and physical abuse that they inflict upon they’re victims. A psychopath is someone who enjoys committing violence upon another. A sociopath is one who has no care for the wellbeing of others. This is rampant in modern Canadian livelihood. One other thing I’ve noticed about aggressors is that they go in and out of remission. (Which is cooperative behavior) A volatile destruction of one’s trust of others and distorting of one’s actions that is prevalent in victims is sexual abuse of the young and old alike. Next to physical assault it’s the most reactive and high profile to this day of violations of another person therefore it falls in the category of psychopathy from what I can see because of its physical and emotional impact. Victims carry on in public, say profoundly erratic and shocking statements, take up malevolence for those who stand by them and seek a vengeance that has no sympathy in any circumstance against theirs and other persons abusers. Their paranoia fuelles the problem of wrongful accusation cases ongoingly across the board. Usually a current abuser is in the background with these cases fuelling the fire while the victim holds out for some kind of mercy or justice. Wife beating and general abuse of children and animals are the most haness and hated by the public and the spectrum of victims in this country. (Canada) Sexual abuse is the most widely discussed and concerning of abusive behaviors towards humanity, (to the point that it’s an ongoing obsession and topic in the daily conversation in a conflictive situation between persons and within groups of all sizes) breeds decay within the psychological health of the groups themselves(like paranoia to a schitsophrenic) and they revel in it, abusers and all. All the power to the victims for their enthusiasm, but to reiterate what I wrote above, these actions are somewhat on occasion either false puppetry put on by the victim’s close and currently occupied as; violator, or by bystanders who just want a show or to gossip. The falsity and sadly sociopathic act of ‘fish netting’ just about every oddball as a possible suspect of these lowly behaviors is very common in today’s society. However, I have realized that their paranoia is justified by the number of women beating and sexual abuse cases showing up as a reality today and that there is a correlation with the amount of homosexuals that are violently “in the closet” who turn up in our courts and also who don’t (mainly due to victims trying to hold their lives together). Can this be explained by ethnicity clashes? Gangs?Terrorism?Languages? Why this correlation? Is it obviously connected to what was formerly seen as perversion, homosexuality, as a factor in these broken homes. Just because by my census in northern Ontario found that heterosexuality was a minority here and that the abuse rate changed for the worse shows that it is possibly a correlation. How long has this been going on? I find that these men need to use women as a shield, a sexual punching bag that’s worth no more than a cheap roast beef. This is a new social disease. Not homosexuality, but the act of taking a mate of the sex you aren’t interested in for personal gain. The action of these men is typical abuse and the women go on destroying their psychological health through these empty relationships. This one (me) who is looking for a healthy relationship feels ripped off however the sociopathic women choose their life like dolls instead. While the jails hold the psychopaths. The police jail and court workers go on with their corrupt behavior in our region. It’s that that continues to choke our young women into a compromise. They are a social disease, we are under siege from sick nations and countries and our men are allowing our women and children to fall by the wayside to make room for more homosexual dominance. It’s time to liberate the inflicted to avoid more people crossing over to psychological toxicity. As these victims start to depreciate into self destructing and outwardly destructive tendencies. Psychologists must prescribe and teach like never before in this age of lies, abuse and corruption. LO-FI Music Explained JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 LO-FI MUSIC EXPLAINED The additional distorted data collected from the peripheries of our senses deliberately recreated and reproduced by means of adverse, outdated and unintentionally altered technology and style. Recorded or preformed ideally in the form of what we know as music and or film. broken record? More like audible snowflake. The geometry of nature get betrayed and expands when recording art under predetermined and active circumstances at the whim of the conditions of the environment and it’s setbacks. LO-FI Music/Media is the effect that the decay of our technology has on the pristine conditions in which we perform and record our visual and audible experience and the deliberate recreation and reproduction of these anomalies. Atonally thrusting forth with a foggy notion that these new audio and visual recordings of patterns that emerge from the more primitive forms of technology over time vaguely and remarkably respond to and compliment the setting of the reality intentionally being recorded on an almost conscious level. The question of how to activate them and where hey come from arises when artists of our own age with a knowledge of the recent technological and cultural past attempt the avantgard. Using predominantly analogue and traditional technology affected by time itself that we can alter ourselves in combined with natural (random) rate, voltage, velocity selection what have you to reproduce art AND what the ultimate effect of the recording process has on these works of avantgard art is the idea behind and the method LO-FI Music/Media. -James McFarlane (Seamus) I blew up Einsteins theory on insanity — James McFarlane (Seumas) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 Einstein said that the definition of insanity was repeating ones actions over and over again, expecting different results. I say that this behavior is far from insane. It is the fundamental law of how our development, bodies, daily lives, cultural traditions, reproduction, evolution and solar systems function. When looked at closely we see that even the most repetitious behavior is constantly changing at various rates. This is a law in all things in our universe therefore nothing ever really repeats itself. Rotations beautifully exist in nature and follow an imperfect geometry that we mimic in our cultures according the the schedules of the massive bodies above. Rock and roll, like opium or the moon have differing effects on the geometric patterns of our lives and evolution. Some rock an roll music by use of musical instruments (science) has combined the harmony of natures repetitious behavior (the drone) with the ever changing distortion factors like; time, mass, pitch and amplitude that are essential and fundamental to the evolutionary principle of repetitious behavior. Its the repetition that is the foundation we stand on, as long as your standing on it, expect something new to come about. Simply our presence in a scenario changes the physical and metaphysical environment at some rate, its our behavior and descisions that change that rate what manifests as the artwork or reality. — James McFarlane (Seumas) lyrics — James McFarlane (Seamus(Substreet Drones)) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 NEW — weird song (2016) the reaper, put the beat on hold, bones dug up just like the sunflowers in the snow, now deeper into the river of sight, if you go in that cave dont turn out the light, white light shines bright, no stars tonight, behind the vox stack, their singin heart is black, subwayswhislting over my head, thank god i climbed aboard instead, reap what you sew 4x (coda) Heart is black ive been had (ive been had) ive gone mad (ive gone mad) ths is war, (this is war) i told you all this before i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, heart is black face the facts, art is black, oohicant stay, (ooh icant stay) cant go your way, (cant go your way) i felt you sweet smack, Your smoke is black (smoke is black) i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, Beautiful face she thinks shes alright, butshes out of sight, swim in for a bite, underneath the white light, thining of fashons, and still looking smashing appealing to fools, out of all kinds of schools, lo frequency base, mixed with the acid taste, no it couldnt compare, to your beautiful face. you left a hole in my chest, a better shot than the rest, do you have five minutes, for a warhol screen test, at dawn i see a star burning not lie the rest, cant help but sit and wonder where its going next 4x cant help but sit and wonder where shes going next 4x Blue Haired BelleBlue Haired Belle, hangs around the gates of hellMorning stars get lost, in the flow of your blue sky locksDon’t despair, you’ve been on a track please take care, Come fly with me, its your blue sky that’s pure dont you see. Its alright You, me , everybody,we, see, only moonbeams,comets not so high,eathquakes in the sky,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright, You light the way, through tunnels, try not the scrape, the gunnels,on the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timeon the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timelalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalaooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaoooooo Main Street When you called me up hereIdidnt feel like walkin, Now your sayin to me,youdidnt feel like talkinwhy are we so clumsy,so clumsy with our breadnow you tell me honey, how you keep your stomach fed, always lending yourself out, to the freaks that dot our lives,honey when you gunna shout, at those drones in out beehive,take a walk uptown, to the bucket where they drown,gunna tell them when they get out,to get theiur handouts downtown MorningAt the dawn of a new age,Sun comes up, smell the burning sage,take a step foreward, turn the pagesay goodbye to all those dark dark days, MAking a brew I stare a the fire,stir the pot, and then connect the wires,turn on the amp, the music inspires,got to free my mind from all the cheats and all the liars. Morningdrone You, you know what I mean, when isay,that nothings gunna happen today,and you, you know what imean,wheni tell you it’s just not my scene, you, yeees you, what the hell are we gunnado?and you, the only one you listen to, is a man, by the name of, Lou. We, yeees us three, could make it at a defferentpace,I, know that, it’s a discrace, Lord, take us to another place, So grab your stuff, your record albums,you take the wine, and ill take the guns, and into the ocean, we will go, cause you know, were headed, for the coast,so raise up your glasses, for a toast,ha, which one of us can drink the most,the father, theson, or the holy ghost,and you say that this car can race,but can it take us to that other place, a different side of mother natures face. take me to another place. Nothing drones honey comes from lots of work, sticky feet moving berserkpatterns form in crude beauty, drones fulfill a pointless duty, honey drips, from the hive, golden jkelly feeds their wife, pretty flowers messy home, nothing drones on like the cone, back and forth, in and out, dancing like we use our mouths,the pay is small and so are you, results of that sweetens my tooth, the task is never ending, constantly descending, dripping in the mouths of those not worth defending. Oppenheimer park Rolling down the open road, to the end of the line,end of the world, end of the illusion of time,I go down to the water, and feel the cool surf,hear music in the air and take it for what it’s worth, cant understand why people, could live on so little,when so much goes through them, and through the needle, so hasty, with the selling of their saved souls,the western downtown is bright, blunt, and bold. Walk up and down throughout the day, out of your mind,think of your home nevermore, till the end of timethe loop drones on and on like a broken clock,don’t need to climb the montain, cause your at the top Hastngs is not coming for you, your coming for it,like hell it bewccons like the incline of a pit,the east side, sits a nd people come from near and far,to sit, and sink, into the grass, in oppenheimer park oracle so your torched,your hanging by a thread,don’t scorch, your pretty little head,wishing through your lips that it worntpass,feels like your turning from a liquid to a gas, take a trip right to the edge of your mind, consciousness poured out and left behind,take a break from all the flats and all the sharpd,ride a cloud of nothing, and numb your broken heart To thew edge of your mind, distortion blurrs the line bettweenwhats out there and whats inside, deep in the cave, breath in the cold air,see shadows on the wall,… stare bring news just like homing pigeon,come down, and start a new religion, leave now, and speak out, littereally or metephorical,the knowledge you posess will make you the oracle. Pipe Dream A science experiment gone totally wronga weather balloon with some kind of evil about it,all the kids at school could see it above the horizon,my friends and i knew we’d be better off without it, king kong, walked along high street, where the freaks and thugs call home,if he could reach this floating disaster on time,he knew he would never have to die alone,hethough about it and realised the people wouldntunderstandhe knew their alien nation would turn this ape into a man, darkened minds turn on a dime, revolve in time along thin white linesyin and yang drip from a wolfs fang, one pulls the trigger the other goes band why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Darkened fool has lots of toolsd, dead at the deep end of the pool, boring times and pouring rhyme, the question, is this really mine? why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Psych em out Psychem out like rabid vermin, make em shout a phony sermon,see right through their simple game,right to their core their thoughts of shame, watchem blow upon the fire, rocks explode right on the liar, social change brings end to war, housewife trembles on the floor,backwardsforewards, up and downvoisc encircle all aorund, observeprecieve hear see know learn mirror be, identify possible flaws, of the menace with no causethe time is now, so try to learn how to bend the rules they use to keep you down. Rabbit hole Salvage you mind while it is illuminated, a fire out of control,a cabbage in ttime, right now it is fumigated, wired and housing a soul,badhabbits in line, schedualed to be terminated, inspire you out of your hole, A rabbit , redefined and underrated but higher than ever before, drink up while the tea is hot and bright blue, the flesh of the gods makes it so,3 caps and some stems is all i can do, to see shooting stars upon the snow, think sweetly of me, with emotions so true as yu stand and look through the window,think of thinkgs to do when im gone for good now, waving at the bus watching it go, Im down in the southland, with deep curving valleys and bridges all rusty and crumbling, with grasses all dying and rivers of green and subways whistling under me. a spot on the corner , a 30 dollar gutar, a case and a cigarette too, is all that i need to get usedd to my home and bring my mind closer to you. The last of this song, is all out of place, but the pace rings true to the rule, of the verses before i shut tight the door on the patterns lost and misconstrewen,becauseits all backwards and forewards like this, its in shambles but its not a ruin,the end of this 4 verse song has arrived, to the point you might not clue in. Sea of lights Rockj and rave, through the night,on speed in a sea of lights,jump spin contort thrust,black white pain lust,spent a week there last might, maybe more,steal yourself a holy death crouching by the door cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Standing there all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the whilestanding all in black behind the vox stack, from behind sunglasses, we inspire the masses, cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Walk and talk it through the park,whiplashgirlchild in the darkrun run run, take a drag shoot your speed while you brag i’ve been orchestrating behind sunglasses,immitatingprodogy, and writer, man, tomboy and a throusand fans zeppelin spotlights on my brain exploding plastic in my veinhypnotyic tones as the propellers drone,mind bending sounds, resonate undreground, dak circles never weed, new york 1963, Chcmysic, velvet freak desensitize alter tweak, no money car moon or sun, sell your blood for heroin,if she ever comes now now, moe beat on that drum now now,pink perfume, mantra neumes silk screen factory tunes superstar test only the best wine coffee speed heroin rest,darkcircl;es never weep, new yourk 1963,theyve been up for weeks, in the white light the tweak, in 63 Skeleton Here we are again, moneys all been spent, you don’t know where hesbeen,hes trying to fend off things that dwell within, hes a skeleton. at the end of days hes been here before he says, narrow in mannyways,hes a skeleton,andidont know where hesgoin, or why he thinks itssnowin, he can see the wind thatsblowin, hes a skeleton, Spotlight Reap what you sew,snakes and poppys in her hair,sun flowers in the snow,make you look like your not so old,it had been so long i could not recall her face,she came outside to meet me though iwas’t her case,nowi sit and wonder if I’m out of place,the memories i had of her, are in outer space Standing all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the while,on the odd days I could talk to her,harmony and dissonence, a modern venus in furs,up and down that hallway, rotating the earth,waiting there for hours and hours, for her the quench my thirst. Sweet grass summertime,see the star shine, and i don’t mind revisiting those times,although my mind is blown, i play the drone,saying goodbye while you’re getting stoned. Vicious lips oooooo what to do,iwanna see you too,i think imgoin mad, ooooim not that sad noooi wonder sometimes where you are,what moon what planet under what star,id like to think your not that far, but we both know that trip was hard your vicious lips, eard on the airwaves, waking the dead, from their graves,your sweet, but your toxic, been three weeks since you dropped itI found it in my pocket, your trains comin I cant stop it You Made Me the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me, Come Back Around JAMES MCFARLANE·FRIDAY, MAY 13, 201610 Reads The process as a whole is always a learning experience like no other. Ultimately, like the brain has a recognition and physical atribute that corresponds with most chemicals in nature (possibly even synthetic chemicals) the psychological functions that a person can aquire are almostordaned and recieved in a timely fashion by the organ and im assuming the subconscious effortlessly and for evolutionary purpose. So I will assume everyones own, (however existential), growth experience is interesting. Having the atribute of spiking and deminishing of at least two of the brains most important chemicals related to experience, and behavior… and the awareness of the (most obvious to you) potential for not only chemical related occurances and their ripple effect, but the behavioral methods that the acute brain, manic brain, almost has a natural function to excercise and use usually either for a better survival or further expansion into astonishing existential and soon to be investigated parapsychological, social behaviors that tend to stick as long as they serve in a new type evolutionary (ie “Counter intuative”, productive and humanistic beavior that the mind eagerly draws in like an antennae recieving and storing up valueable energy. Setting this agenda and also surviving the early episodes, of bipolar, (which are usually the most drastic) are two hurdles to get over, let alone the crude, almost sickening archetectural features in our community hospitals, thats purpose cannot be desguised as heathcare to the human eye. A grossly overused assortment of bondage equipment and isolation chambers (not to mention your absence of any dignifying articles of clothing( also to be moved and set in place on occasion) nowadays plate glass walls, a whole dungeon setup designed by those people involved no less, who really probably care wheather the colour they chose or how their design would function better than the decaying sweat soaked ultimately in our home towns case, my favorite case, dried blood stained, apparenty approved for use by some dr, a single hallway, to alk up and down seemingly endlessly, untill not suprisedby the inevitable dread code white, that is the delight for the predominantly, …listen t me… dominated, by your average practicing as ferociously as they can with as little effort as possible, sociopath and more importantly to re ognise, violent violators psychopaths, who pretymch have the real pl working there stressin over what could possibly be these ppls capabilities, and are alienated inside by this evil thay cannot risk their ,,, virtully anything valuable, like a job or who knows, omg… thats why she left,,,,, so, yaa, these ppl rise like cream, annnnnd they have a really good time eeeehm, .. now nurse practitioners or legends, thir former dominator look like theyve aged, well lets say i was convinced they had beeen using prolongued use on heavy stimulents, like crack. iloldrewaout a blueprint with symboldsfr the patient advocate, neaysi mostly wantd to write and its alot of shit thats gone no doubt as home with ,,,lets say u know like fat cat. what, i was 15, and he was fat then, now hes the last one standing up there that i know of. oh yea… so i would say if u want out, and as of late i thing the design is perfect for the right ppl, socios included, fuckers, but, the dr, they are jst as careless as the security guards who cant hide haw stupid the really are and the odd couple who are revealing that their ok, still, idicovered, ,, maybe not in north bay, but in a proper community, like the city, ………..lost my train,,,, i think that i was getting at how just to be fair and …eyea 50 percent of the staff endowd with the ability to weildstrapps, and are encouraged by their no doubt under educated superiors, to always have the wrist ready to be broken if, now this brings me back,,,, they chokeyou, than comes the bondage that betty page would think is very unatractive, idk,,, the thing is,,, ya the drs, oh waut,, ok…. 1/3 of all of them are,,,, exculding the drs, and the janitors, who if ihaventdiscosedya are always there to pile up on a code white, and i know,, listen to me, no janitor ive met would grab my ass so hard on such a numerous a pile up, i have eyes in theback f my head,,,,,,, italalot,,,,,,, ppl that work so hard tp climb so not that far up the ladder in society, yes, sum of them are costume rocking witchcrftprodiges, who, will, 1 take the whole bunch of guys .. it may have been the forensic unit,,, this little thing is known by ,ppl, ive talked to about the psych who are inderectyl told by their others who work it, and ave stories about the oddity of us. iduno,, alot went down, but,, boring s yea she walks me throught e bysantine conduit iup to the floor, and the police have to walk somewhere behind to uncuff me and ta da, , y o iwanna bring up corporeal action when the best times,,, due to the conditios of bondage uuuuuuuuuuh were strictly through plate glass,,,,, ie. rare appearenced that are pretty much the only way. i really was bloody fucking thirsty 8percent and i mea ya,, when i was younngti chewed up braaaaan and drank my watttaaeer, and drew peace sighnsandd 7 days laterrrrr, after she sumhow managed to get an earbud into my head screaming for any colour you like by pink floyd, and playd the fungsonhggg, badassss. straight jacket. prolly day 4,,,,, i still think cough syrop is good for teenagerswhatver,,m took me to the top. ok… to get offf, the ward do as such; by Ultimately drawin on to no apparent end in crayons complete with nicotine gum (smokes,, the only freedom, not yet a right, that is so hard to get,,,,, and i learned to smoke in side the scarborough general hospitol,,, that room soon became the chamber, i would be locked in, for manny weeks, at different times,, thats where alot also hapened, is where the nude bondage asianfemaldr, ..whati mean i s theatwwhatwuldlou reed say… they never forgave us for nagasaki.,,, newaysive never spent more time in a i also a what appears to be and have bben told by assdocter of the north bay pstychwhi took to court at the hospitol and he got yelled at by a panel while my dad defended him and i ate cookies cus ii was really manic,,,, i also was 15 1/2… he later let me try and commit suicide,, thats a story of a different colour,, sounds like sprockets, idk,, idontwafe war with very real religiossympomatic shat, iuuuuuhm , so,,,, hereswahat krb8tujvcklwelbutrin.,,, ya, it istaken orally it shoul get right to work in three ad a half weeks, if suicidal,,,,, pray, oooir if u cant get dxedrine,, or sum speed beane drink a bottle of childrensgeapecoughsyrup once a day,,,, this acts as a seritonin reuptake inhibitor of a differrentcolour. 2 to 4 hours,,,iu get the mental stimulation,, it reall is a mellow buzz butttttyupppidecare fuck cough syrop…… dexedrineisnt out there and i know it couould really bbe used and they aslso do,, ie. jfk, addisons disease, dexedrine/anphetamine. so,, it will make y0ur 90 year old great aunt we all frogot about over in blind river get up from the abyss of alzheimers and dementia and sing thins is the day that the lord hath made,, ,but with real and concious interaction,,, without memory of course. however,,, she does that,,, did that anyway , but,,, im sure every month not every day,, at least one trial of … iuffingadhd adults can take it,,, why cant she. smeared into the grate of every window and the classy bubble rooom which actually was made with enough pride according to the regionnsid say, to have an even more, almost funny, and certainly battered scratched and spat on bubble for the head psychiatrist t poke his head into every few days. Lets not froget how that scene ended. like my father and grandfather before me who conditioned and alterred the correctiona institutions for fifty fife years now a conmfortablevacatin for psychopaths and whoever, not even the hole could stand up to point blank restraints naked, with your flimsy gown around your chest. at least in the bubble room there was lots of privacy, u know, to each institution their own, glass , bubble blood stained, probably 60 years of ppl that somehow said something that attracted the attention of their nurse, who no doubt vollynteered after printing your file which is most likely epic thick, there is no room for any of their creative stylings in that no, i did just smash the wall into pieces and ya all the insulatin is everywhere, high five and respect from my cute transference mistress, (and a couple others.) Perverts Dictionary (O_o))))))))))))) Trilateral — jinx No doubt — yes, super Doble- adorable, dobles, adobles Straight up — forthrightly, correct, right, or goof Throwing babies makes them gay Avant garde — protect the old (art) stay the same Downtown, — quiet not ratting Technology — rewind/splice mp3 interchangable Right up — shooting up Not up — free (not in trouble) Word — “my promise” new word, yes Naw — ya goof / no Buzz out — use vibrator / get high Drone- parapsychological anomalie Phe — speed (methanphetamenes) Stellar — awsum / the sun / single thing Figure — shape (claivoiance) One — god / goof Out-gay or leaving No doubt — ur gay / im gay. (For sure (im a whore)) straight up In — a goof out “my thing ‘ — claivoiant animation (repeated) Pentagon/circuit — terrific Duality — love or contrast in nature Straight — not gay or no drugs Up-in torouble/retarded/fucked Goof — crazy p/pedophile / molester/rapist/asshole Pervert-whore/hooker Asshole-incessant talker(mean) Solid-honest reliable Ethereal — heavely, sticky, Bird- girl pervert , moron Badass-pervert/violent, missile Idiot –saying nething Toad- smaker (heavy) old vagina A hard — a stiffy Eh eh- turning vol down and then up to trick parents in the 70s in quebec Bonhome — dildo, goof, good man Ein — get in /out (here) goof (French) ass hole/vagina Institution/church shouting= good Tabernacle-chest Coalis-chalise Zeut-fuck Fuck- rape/damnet or sex Stomping — raping Bang out- beat on Beat up — gay kids trying to get their frieing off violently Rank out — make someone stink by working them or hurting them / cast someone out canadian military style (gay) , gang up on someone till they freak out (psychopaths do it all over Canada)’ Trast- drunk /party/water Dai-morning, cool, fun, ausum, hello! Good-goof Story along-paranormal happening involving ancestral memory Psychic-all in one, prophet telepath Telepathic — mind to mind talker, thinker Telekinetic- moving things/ ppl Claivoiance- seeing colour from other ppls minds Rod-skyfish/fast moving anomaly animal Vaj-old or young vagina Oss — dog or baby vagina Grandma- bag in tree Candy — transsexual My honey — sexy (on the wind(throwing laughter(female))) Beating off — complex Wacking off-pervert Jerking off — solid (female) Move-walk / go Mullet-militia Freak –goof (black word) Ca — crap — crow call Germ freak-someone who forces germs on ppl Quay-(beautiful woman (cunt) — woman) latin Mead-morphene Rin — heroin (dust / cookie crumble) Beans — speed pills Rids — Ritalin No shit- of course Jib-meth Hellfire — run off meth (bad) Food — crack Molly-mdma /e Bombs — ecstacy cid — Acid (lsd) shrooms-magic mushrooms sterl — brother (little) afgan weed — brown pot kife — bad weed (shake) leaves) shibby — cool/goof cool-gay/awsum fade white — see white on od (heroin/mescelin(go to heaven/hell)) road — freedom — out of institution the suck — mescalin myth ast — perversion telekinetic- asty sortof meta/physical movement from the brain outwardly god — goof — one or christ lady stink — female deodorant leave it — shirt on chest (gay /bi) stop it hiboit gland — make you fat cured with amricain medicine merican — goof citizen of America Canadian- a sovereign citizen of Canada (incestewous clown) Were done — end releationship British — gay mongerers Nono –nig mistake Famished — thirsty / starved Sent — innocent Pervert — to change something and make it last nothing — absence, bipolar universai — multiple universes psykinetics — telepathy / telekinetics/claivoiance geniupsy — psykinetic offspring genius — generating new thought (brilliant) bipolar- up and down serotonin and dopamine, psychopath — violent person sociopath — not caring about neone oppositional defiant — opposing help borderline personality — victim misbehaving schitzophrenic — high fixed dopamine, fixed seretonin (normal)\ drone — unpiloted airplane, good worker, artist , schitzophrenic dick — enlarged clitoris get out of here — come here little child aced — gay men trying to get pregnant, daughter , sqaired away k — ketamine ass — dad/grandfather hun — little stut( skank) brecky — greek (breakfast) supper — jewish (Dinner) brecko — Italian (breakfast) avatar — ethereal image of oneself asshole — girl or boy or rapist (north bay / Chicago)\ goof — sad or sexy ethereal image from shame can be cured with desensitization (knumbaning) (telepathic) ya — pedophile dude — black pedophile Italian cowboy, fake doctor (candadian) huffin — pretending to be someone else while using telekinteicks in a sexual fashion. sadomasochist — paingiver/enjoyer earphoning — hearing ppl in ypur speaker — hold speaker up to ear and hand over other ear, psychopaths recommendation pur — rapist/pervert uggz — ug;y phile — pedophile ace — gays — rape — sister — grandma-brother path — telepath or a psychopath/sociopath, can — male whore cop- fake police (pedophile) musac — music laid — losing virginity glowie — acid victims (creep) ente old stupid goof dex — cough syrup bed down — tie to bed (north bay) fuck right off — screw my girlfriend\ fuck off — go cop the u- universe no shit — definitely mangina — friend spect-respect right up — repect straight up — disguise Italian — scot Adisguzi — disgusting excuse me No shit- really? Love — goodbyek“love”  and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophise with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the moment my phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche,  at this moment I can prove using circumstancial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indesisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and psysical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living thngs on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not neccesarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings cresendoes babies,, are when the energy isnt circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, an the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what  he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, emparts her secret harboured denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, wheather the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivitol form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense,  my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misenterperted until the last few seconds before the line went dead (FUCK), were interperated and acknowledged and the whole venus in furs philosophy of the one party giving the other what it wants so bad, but has been denied, and doing it with love, or what they BOTH KNOW is the kind of love that’s needed and given over finally with effortless,  voluntary participation from the dominant, resuling in satisfaction in bohe parties (in my case the girl and I were more harmonized cause it was love based. Sex based, and send in the sacred medium of sound, and the talisman, the artifact, the memory the high velocity evidence that the message was of high fidelity, was that she didn’t use descriptive words (language) I was unfortunately (my medium at the time) it was her specific instrumental natural sirens alerting me to the intentions that truly lied behind her actions towards me  even if it was for that day only, this medium I collected from the field is highly obvious and irreplaceable piece of art that is regarded by the mind of the homosapien on a natural level as evidence that it not just social interacton, its a higher form of interaction, sexual yes, the highest form, occurs only when the truly loving is truly loved, on a sexual level, which indicates physical involvement,  and it did, only on one side, the side of the desired, the starvd had revieved the intention, and it was love, something metaphysical that can only be cofimed as occurring for ne length of time is undeniable corporeal action, even if its just her, givin er to you reading literature over the phone, the gift of reassurance that you are loved in this memorable case was not through words, but audible expressions from the depths of physical and mental activity from her diaphragm through her vocal chords and into my eardrum, was evidence enough that our seemingly healthy and thriving friendship was being held in limbo while I struggled with life and suffered over the denial of the true real deal love you were harbouring and saving in yourself for the future, didn’t dim and go out like a candle that burned up all the wax. Without official acknowledgement celebration and because I was still fucked up, without the long lasting  relationship that we wished wold follow and planned for, the sound of her primal sirens, sent mono ideo-dnamically from her entire physical being emitting frequencies that resonate with the earth around her and correspond with the stimuli, me, the correspondence being the brief experience of hearing the broadcast of it, acknowledging the fact that no matter how flawed or un aware I was prior to precieving what was transpiring an how classicly themed to fit my experience it was, that the fucking phone died before I heard the end of it, I clued in to what was going on, (id been informed of this “drone”she makes by her ex boyfriend (the other guy) right before he drove his helpful and convenient car out of her life)  Even if it was “her being noisy” it was fundamental sensual body chemistry, stimulated physically by the best means she knew how mentally by the imperative consciousness of the presence of the instinctualy, reproductivly essential of (in her case) a genuine male emitting stimuli, in both of our cases the stimuli was audio. The rare and most modern evolutionary trait is the simultaneous(I say this empathetically because were using language the figure this out not a live experiment going on right now or some shit) Emotional involvemint by both parties “while during coitus” bein, to into words, (I know that you’ve been loveing me so im gunna love you back) tho words are sweet but it doesn’t compare to the same message sent in the biologically, exceptional quality thats essential to the balance of the bodies involved and there connection to one another, the planet and the unverse, sound and where it comes from and the intention or involuntary reason for its presence and amplitude, dissonant or harmonious, perhaps my reading, my being on the line was the drone, and the harmony was her dissonant siren song. Its our new found puprose as humans to when ready reproduce.  Love is highly evolved, and requires corporeal and linguistic and energetic action on both parties to be confirmed as true love. It works like a battery(the casing of the battery is the relationship here), one end needs what the other end has access to; the positive end has its own energy attached to it(the juice in the battery, posetve energy),(in this case this is our one, the girl)attractive body(+end)and a mind (the positive ends underside that’s harboring all the energy in the friendship/relationship (battery casing)the negative port on the other end of the battery on its outside (my mind in this case)is permanently attached through the casing of the battery to the mind of the desired, this girls memories thoughts etc. (the underside of the positive end) and not her body. Why because the casing is plastic,( the friendship) isnt enough to join the two to create a circuit, but the love(the battery juice made up of strange elemets) attracted by her negative mind(the underside of the positive end) and makes her body(the tip) fertile and ready to create electricity(communication) only the casing of battery acid(loving friendship)charged by my positive actions(the acid is positively charged by the underside of my mind(the negative ends underside) which represents my body, which behaves like the warm intentions of my actions, which positively go nowhere unless her mind (negative underside of the top of the battery)gets inspired by the love in the friendship (which is positively charged yearning, my positive actions played lovingly into her open mind(negative underside of the top) inspiring her to do something with her body(top of the battery positive) in response to my positive charge on her mind and all the love it can unleash,  for the sake of warm intentions she turns on a cell phone,, her phone(or wire casing) the copper thread in the wire(the signal) the positive charge in the wire, (her calling me) and her hooking up the wire touching it to the negative end of the battery(her bodies actions and warm intentions inspired by a recognisable charge I embody that she identifies with(my body and life being negatively charged with aa positive mind and her beautiful face and attractive personality.)  my phone rings and I see its her, the one, I immediately am inspired that its her charge the one im missing positively lovely, what is she up to? and i pick it up, A simple circuit at this point, is her using a tool or wire to send all her positive energy through to her body by using her minds attraction to positive energy, by simply attaching the wire it sends the positive energy not just through her mind and body but back down on her body, when the extension (the wire) is put on my mind(the negative end of the battery in this case, my mind),deliberately by her, sending the energized current of the love in our friendship (juice in the battery) into my mind(the end of the battery with a bump) by way of the wire (cell phone signals connecting our phones and her voice and energy being the current) all the positive energy meets the negative charge of my mind and then that foreign female tone (positive electrical current) the positive energy stemming from the juice, the love, that’s made up of elements like lithium(in the case of the battery and in my case as well) this element and other alloys, the whole chemistry of the battery acid, holds the charge positive because energy flows, and love or acid can be charged by the bi polarity of conducters meaning they are opposing one anothers charge on the outside leaving potential for power over nature,  while on the inside, inside the battery the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, litteraly loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symetricaly and quite similarly to your perfect face and body  only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me,  from the beach into the city,  while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella,  drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I  stop, wait my energys charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and  the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged ablilitys that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit cant explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery,  the almost dead battery, poetic licence and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, Ive always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know theres more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours,  in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, theyd knock me out, blow to the head, ill miss away you time instead,  that lilliad inside your mind

#poetry #writers #blog

[synnefo-nefeli]

I’m a die hard Clerith shipper since 1997, you can’t change my mind but the one thing I won’t tolerate in FFVII aside from shipping wars, is anyone shitting on Tifa.

Don’t. You can like Clerith without hating Tifa. You can find other reasons to not to like Tifa as character, that isn’t “I don’t like her because she gets in the way of my ship”

Personally, Tifa isn’t one of my top tier FF characters, but I am not going to ignore how much of a badass and important person Tifa is to Cloud’s story.

People cite Aerith’s death and burial as the most important moment of FFVII, and yes it’s heartbreaking and an iconic scene. But you know what’s also an important scene?

Tifa in the lifestream with Cloud setting his memories straight. Tifa who up until this moment unbeknownst to the player, is aware that Cloud as he’s presented himself thus far *isnt* the Cloud he thinks he is. She’s been patiently going along with Cloud’s story trying to figure out *what happened* to him/ how he appeared in Midgar boasting of being a SOLDIER while clearly suffering from Mako poisoning/how will she ultimately break this story to him.

Think how hard it was for her to watch Cloud have ptsd episodes and not know how to ground him other than to say “it’s okay. Pull yourself together, let’s keep moving”, because she doesn’t know how or why Cloud is suffering.

But then they fall into the Lifestream together and Tifa helps Cloud sift through the memories warped and altered by the poisoning and Cloud’s severe PTSD.

Only Tifa could help Cloud here- she’s the only one on the Team who has known Cloud since they were young/understands Cloud’s motivations for wanting to become stronger in joining SOLDIER.

This part of the game is beautiful and emotional, and very ahead of it’s time in its portrayal and meta-discussion of PTSD; Cloud isn’t magically healed and back to normal, he never will be, be he’s reclaimed his identity enough that he can begin to heal. I’m replaying the original atm and the moment still holds and I’m hoping that the remake nails this moment. It’s as important and impactful to Cloud as a character as Aerith’s death.

Speaking of Aerith.  Aerith and Tifa become friends from the jump.  Aerith is so respectful of Tifa that twice she makes sure that she isn’t encroaching on Cloud and Tifa’s relationship. She asks Cloud if Tifa is his girlfriend, she reassures Tifa in Don Cornero’s Mansion that she’s not there to steal Cloud from her.  

And yeah, Aerith isn’t trying to steal Cloud or anything - she helped a cute buff guy recover from a fall, asked him for an escort because this time the Turks brought backup to capture her, and got swept up in the ensuing events.  

Hell, Aerith is ride or die for Tifa BEFORE THEY EVEN FORMALLY MEET EACH OTHER. Aerith sees Tifa being carted off to Wall Market and her “some bad shit’s about to happen to this woman if we don’t move NOW” senses go off.  

Cloud’s like “oh let me take you home first and I’ll get my teammates...” and Aerith’s like “YOU NAIVE FOOL? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO CUTE GIRLS IN WALL MARKET? (tbh, considering how naive Cloud can be, I am going with ‘nope’.) WE GOTTA GO! QUICK GET INTO THIS SEXY DRESS BECAUSE MR. SOLDIER YOU’RE NOT COMING UP WITH A BETTER PLAN WE CAN WORK WITH!!” Aerith drives the entire plan to get into the Don’s mansion. She negotiates the dress, the wig, the makeup, EVERYTHING, to make sure that Cloud can pass as a women to come into the Mansion with her.  

Heck, Aerith was going to go into the mansion HERSELF to get Tifa when the guard was like “No dudes allowed.” The only reason they went looking for dresses in Cloud’s size, was because Cloud got all “No, I can’t let you go in there a lone if it’s as bad as you think it is”, (as if he hadn’t just spent the last day with this woman watching her completely kick ass in battle). So Aerith was like, “Fine, you wanna come with me? Get in the Silk Dress, Cloud” with the same energy as Shinji’s Dad.

And when Aerith gets captured, Tifa was like “WE GOTTA GO AND SAVE HER FROM SHINRA!” as well as protecting Aerith through the whole ShinRa office building mission when the groups had to split up.  So yeah, these two queens love and respect each other from the get-go, they put Cloud in his place, tease the shit out of him and Barret, probably had hair-braiding trains at camp, and support the hell out of each other . 

Also, as we see from the rest of FFVII and in AC, Tifa is devastated by her friend’s death and continues to grieve with Cloud.  Tifa is emotionally intelligent enough to see that Cloud’s grief and guilt over Aerith’s death is killing him, but also respects his need for space.  However, when she finds that he has Geostigma and has staying away from everyone so he can just waste away and die as some sort of penance for not being able to save Aerith and zack, she get’s PISSED at him. Tifa is instrumental in bringing Cloud back (again) to his senses.  Making him see, that he doesn’t only belong to himself, he belongs to their family, just as much as they belong to him. The love and fierce protection Cloud has for his family?  They have that for him and believe he’s more than worthy of that love. Tifa takes none of Cloud’s mopey and self-loathing bs, and sets him straight.

So if you think Tifa is only there for fan-service, an annoying bitch who is there to be jealous of Aerith, is there just to make a love triangle so SE can pander to fans on both sides, you clearly

a) didn’t play the games b) missed one of the best female relationships and examples of women supporting women in gaming c) missed how equally important both Aerith and Tifa are to Cloud in their own ways

IMO I see her and Cloud as platonic soulmates- kinda like Black Widow and Hawkeye- they have history, they have shared trauma from their childhoods and in the destruction of Nibelheim, they know what it’s like to grow up in a poor country town that’s been exploited by Shinra on so many levels from the natural resources to it’s culture of military indoctrination and idealization.

Yes, there was an innocent first love, but after certain events, to me- it’s moved beyond romantic attraction between them. They’re always going to be important to each other and in each other's lives.  

Their innocent first love to me, mirrors Zack and Aerith’s, but Aerith moved on and fell in love with Cloud. Yes, Cloud reminded her of Zack, she probably wanted to remain close to Cloud to get closure on what exactly happened to him. 

People often forget, Aerith *knows* Zack’s died and returned to the Lifestream in the way that she knew her adoptive mother’s husband had died before word reached them. When she has her awkward moment in Gongaga it’s not because she’s now realizing that he’s dead, she’s now realizing that these are Zack’s parents and they still don’t know what became of their son. Zack was scrambled into Cloud’s memories due to trauma and because Zack was someone Cloud looked up and was his ideal, combined with the fact that Zack was the only person talking to Cloud for 9 months as Zack carried his catatonic self back to Midgar. But Cloud didn’t *become* Zack, only Zack’s plans of becoming a mercenary and being a former SOLDIER were impressed upon him. If Cloud actually became Zack he would have been chipper, this energetic “I’m a hero!” all around good-guy hero Zack made himself out to be. The Cloud we first meet...isn’t- yes he thinks he’s a former SOLDIER turned merc, but he’s sardonic, arrogant, and too much of “tough guy/lone wolf”...he’s more like his child-like self who was made to feel like an outsider and wants to showoff how much cooler and stronger he’s become.  He didn’t find Aerith because Zack was some how possessing him.  Aerith and Cloud meeting was destiny, and their subsequent relationship is independent of their past histories with Zack. And if Aerith is interested in Cloud because she reminds him of Zack - well...the woman is allowed to have a type.

I digress.

Cloud was in love with Tifa in that - “hey! notice me! If I go off an become this awesome guy, I’ll be worthy of your attention” sort of way, that teens get.  He was a lonely kid, often bullied by the other children in the village (Tifa included), and probably didn’t know *why* he wanted Tifa’s attention- it was most likely Tifa had the most social capital among the kids. And despite her hot/cold treatment of him,Cloud who was desperate to prove himself, figured that if he somehow “won” Tifa’s attention, it would “show them”.  I am not saying that Cloud was using Tifa or didn’t care about her- he does love her. He blamed himself for not being strong enough to save her when she tried climb Mt. Nibel.  But you can’t ignore that his thirst to prove himself wasn’t wrapped up in his crush.  It’s your typical “become a hero, get the girl” idealization.  Cloud was 14 when he left Nibelheim for Shinra’s military. He was a child, just like Tifa, with a naive idea about how the world worked- and the world slapped them both in the face, HARD.  Relationships mature and change over time. Outside forces can and will shift your dynamics in how your relate to the people you love.  Sometimes your first crush, becomes one of your very best friends (happened to me personally so maybe this informs my take on Cloud and Tifa) because when you’re young you don’t understand that loving someone, outside of your nuclear family, isn’t only constrained to romance. This is what I believe happened to them. Cloud and Tifa had the quintessential school yard crush, and when they were reunited years later in Midgar, they still care deeply for each other in a different way than they did when they were 14 and 13.

But those are MY feelings, it’s how I play the game’s attraction mechanics; I am afforded to shape Cloud’s relationships as I, the gamer, see fit. I understand why Cloti shippers ship Cloud and Tifa, and they’re just as valid as Clerith, Zarith, Clack, etc.. but I’m a sucker for M/F platonic soulmates because there needs to be MORE of that in media. I rather Cloud and Tifa be platonic soul mates, co-parenting Marlene and Denzel with Barret, than Cloud “settling for Tifa because Aerith died”. which that explanation for Cloud x Tifa, often used by Clerith shippers, just undermines who Tifa is as a character and her’s and Cloud’s relationship.

But anyway, even though I don’t ship them and Tifa is not my #1 girl for VII, she is a vital character. She’s not there for fan-service.  She’s not there exclusively for a love triangle and to cause tension between Aerith and Cloud.  Tifa is VITAL to Cloud’s story, to the story of VII, to the planet of Gaia. You wouldn’t have VII’s core story without Tifa. And I will go to the mat for her just as hard as Aerith did when she saw Tifa in the cart bound for Wall Market.

So again: you may not ship her with Cloud, or she may not be your fave in VII, but in this house we forever respect the badass queen whose name is Tifa Lockhart

#ffvii #rant #tifa lockhart #in this house we love and respect Tifa Lockhart #even though we don't ship her with anyone really #I used to ship her with Barret and sometimes Rude #If Cloud didn't exist I would prolly ship her with Aerith tbh

[mainly-kpop]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Chapter Eleven

Pirate!BTS Maid!Reader hello hello hello, I’m sorry, i know I’m literally a week and three days late but when i say A LOT has happened this bitch is not exaggerating. Regardless, better late than never right?   Warnings: none to note Summary:  You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside of these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like. Word Count: 2k

‘But I want to carry something too!’ You whined, you know you were acting like a toddler, one moment away from stomping your foot.  They insisted you were still too fragile after your injury, refusing to let you do anything leading up to this trip. The ship was docked legally, paid by Yoongi. You were here solely for stock and to have some downtime, this all seemed easy enough, but since you started shopping, they wouldn’t let you take anything. They took it all out of your hands, ignoring your whines to carry something. All you were met with was ‘Just take it easy angel’ or ‘You haven’t fully healed yet; we will do it.’

‘Here baby, take this.’ Jimin whispered, passing you a small bag of bandages to carry. Although it weighed no more than a feather, you were still happy to be doing something. He smiled at you adoringly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hearing him giggle. Putting all the things down in the supply area, you all decided that was a job for another time.

‘It’s still quite early, shall we go to a tavern?’ Yoongi suggested, getting multiple yells of agreement. You could hear some of the boys talking about the nearby brothel, you rolled your eyes at them. Could they not think about something other than getting their dick wet?

‘I don’t know if I can be bothered with the brothel today man, we have-‘

‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t the traitors.’ A mans voice spoke, all the boys stopped, Jimin going basically catatonic.

‘Kibum, we don’t want any trouble, please don’t start.’ Namjoon spoke, trying to diffuse the tension. The man just sneered at him, stepping slightly forward. Jimin instantly cowered behind Taehyung, the latter grabbing his hand to comfort him. The man who seemed like the captain put his hand on his chest, stopping him from fighting.

‘Oh, they have a new little whore, how exciting. Hello poppet, are you bound already too?’ A pervy looking man spoke, looking you up and down for a second. Jungkook practically growled at the man, putting an arm in front of you. However, you didn’t need protection, especially not from some weird pervy men.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are? You think I’m just some whore you can look down on? Do you have no respect for women at all? You disrespectful mother- JIN LET GO OF ME!’ You screamed and kicked, trying to get out of Jin’s arms.

‘A feisty one, that’s interesting. Does she know yet?’ The captain spoke, looking Yoongi up and down while smirking.

‘No. She doesn’t, but I’d like to be the one to tell her thank you.’ Yoongi spoke, sneering in his general direction. ‘I would also appreciate it if you kept your dogs tamed.’ He grumbled, motioning to the two men by his sides.

‘Keep your bitch in line and we won’t have a problem.’ He shrugged, motioning for the two men to follow him.

‘You don’t want to mess with them, please just listen to me!’ Jin yelled, trying to get the words stuck in your head, you weren’t listening though. It was going in one ear and out the other, too pent up about this to listen.

‘I don’t care who the fuck they are Jin. One, no one talks to me like that, that was disgusting. Two, not one of you stood up for me, how do you think that makes me feel? That’s literally admitting to them that yes I am your whore!’ You screamed, the other boys now joining you on the ship. They had never seen Jin so frustrated, nor you so angry.

‘Babe, that’s not the point. That’s the ship Jimin and Namjoon were on before. The one who took my ex from me.’ He tried to plead with you. As much as you felt for them, you couldn’t get over what had just happened.

‘You don’t seem to be calming down anytime soon. Why don’t you stay here and calm down, come meet us when you’re ready?’ Yoongi spoke passively, already walking away from the group.

‘You know what Yoongi, what a great fucking idea.’ You spoke, walking to his office, slamming the door for dramatic effect. The boys kept looking back as they walked off with Yoongi, giving you time to cool down. Jimin couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a dangerous idea.

‘I just don’t think its safe, leaving her alone when they are so close… Don’t you think someone should stay?’ He wondered, stopping in his place, Yoongi sighed, turning around to look at the younger boy.

‘Listen, she just needs to calm down for a little bit, she will come around. Give her some space okay?’ He reasoned, Jimin sighed but followed regardless.

‘Tidy this shit up, I’m sick of the mess on this fucking ship.’ He spoke, drawing attention from all the crew.

‘Seokmineee!’ A shrill voice screeched the second he stepped foot on the ship. He winced slightly, not ready to deal with her. Regardless, he plastered a fake smile on his face, turning around to welcome her into his arms.

‘Baby, how are you?’ He greeted, sighing into her hair, she picked up on it instantly pulling away to pout at him.

‘I’m better than you, clearly. What’s wrong baby?’ She soothed, stroking his cheek. He frowned, grabbing her wrist in his hand.

‘Your fucking ex is here; do you know anything about this?’ he growled, scaring her slightly. Of course, she could sense that he was close, but the bond isn’t as strong as it used to be. She shook her head, fear in her eyes. He loved her, but that wouldn’t stop him from doing something stupid if she really knew.

‘I didn’t know, baby I thought he was miles out still, I swear to you!’ She yelled, trying desperately to rip her hand out of his grasp. He sighed, visibly relaxing wrapping her back into his arms.

‘I’m sorry baby, you know how I feel about this. I’m so sorry.’ He apologised, soothingly rubbing her back, slowly his grip tightened, making her smack at him to release her. She couldn’t say anything, just tried to get him to stop. ‘But if I ever find out you’re lying, I’ll kill you.’ He whispered, letting her go. She ran off gasping for air.

‘Chanyeol!’ He screamed, the man coming running behind him.

‘Captain?’

‘Follow the girl. She hasn’t left the ship with the rest of them.’ Chanyeol nodded, running off the ship to wait in the shadows for her.

It took you an hour to pull your thoughts together, to understand what Jin was trying to tell you. You were so blinded by how it made you feel, you didn’t really think about the boys. You felt dumb, but it was time to apologise. You left the ship trying to remember where they had gone to, trying to map out the direction of the cavern.

‘Hello poppet.’ A familiar voice sounded behind you, rolling your eyes you turned to look at him. You wondered if he knew he would be attractive, well if it wasn’t for that pervert thing he had going for him.

‘Leave me alone you creep, I have some place to be.’ He stepped closer to you, pinning you to the nearest pole before pressing his body against yours.

‘There’s no place you have to be baby. Want to take a ride with me instead? I promise you won’t regret it.’ Your hand connected with his face, one swift slap had him changing his persona in a second.

‘Why you little fucking-‘

‘Chanyeol, pick a new whore for the night. I want to speak with her.’ He pulled himself away, stumbling into town to do just that.

‘Hey, you don’t know me but-‘

‘Hey no offence. Thanks for saving me and all, but I have some place to be.’ You spoke, trying to get away from her. You had no doubts she was part of his crew too, wanting to get as far away from her and them as possible.

‘You’re on the ship with Yoongi right? There’s something you need to know.’ She spoke, trying to get you to come back. You did stop briefly, now figuring out who she was.

‘You’re the ex am I right?’ You quizzed, turning a sceptical eye to her.

‘Mary, but yes, the ex.’ She replied shortly. You nodded, turning around to look at her properly.

‘I have heard plenty about you, therefore I do not wish to talk to you. Have a good day, I’ll be going.’ You replied, trying to walk away. Trying. She grabbed your arm, pulling you towards her.

‘There’s a curse.’ She spoke quickly, making you laugh out loud. A curse, for pirates, how fucking cliché.

‘I know what you’re thinking. I laughed too at first, but it’s real, and if you’re not careful, you’ll know all about it.’ To say your curiosity was piqued would be an understatement.

‘Okay, I’m giving you 15 minutes to tell me everything, that’s all.’ She nodded, leading you over to a bench, you sat far enough away from her to make a run if, for some reason, this went south.

‘Okay, first of all, the curse is called the lovers curse. You need to be with Yoongi sexually, it doesn’t count with the rest of the crew so there’s no need to worry about that. The origin of the curse was Yoongi’s grandfather, he cheated on his wife, a witch, and she cursed him for eternity, all his family who become sailors on the boat would be cursed too. I thought I had broken it, thought by being with Seokmin, I broke it. Turns out, no matter who I sleep with, it’s only slightly torn. You see, when you sleep with Yoongi, you’re bonded, bound to him. Your soul interlocks with his, it’s painful but beautiful. Regardless, you feel loved, full, but that’s not enough sometimes you know? I felt trapped, controlled, taken advantage of. I didn’t want to be with him because I was bound to him. Like I said, I tried to break it but I only snapped one cord, Yoongi needs to move on, to sleep with someone else to break it from me. Please help him break it, I can’t take this anymore, it hurts. I don’t want to long for him anymore, I don’t want to know where he is and what he’s doing. Please free me.’ She pleaded, crying tears of desperation. You just looked at her like she was crazy, she couldn’t be serious right? She was talking about some creepy ass marriage shit, some one-sided love bond. Imagine, being married to a witch and not thinking she would curse you if you slipped it in someone else. Idiot.

‘You’re lying, there’s no way…’ You spoke mostly to yourself, she just sighed, sniffing and wiping at her tears.

‘If you think I’m lying, ask him. If he loves you like I know he does, he will tell you the truth. I can feel his emotions too you know? Six months ago, all he felt was loss, despair, just bad thoughts and feelings. He doesn’t have those anymore, that’s how I knew he had someone, but I wondered why I hadn’t felt the bond break. Why he hadn’t done anything yet. Then two months ago I felt love from him, I felt jealousy two weeks ago. So, you did something with one of them right?’ She smirked, the more she talked, the more you were inclined to believe her.

‘That’s none of your business.’ You whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap.

‘It doesn’t matter, just ask him. He will tell you the truth… I’ll be going. I’ll know eventually if you accept the curse.’ She spoke, walking back to her ship. You sat on the bench for a little bit longer, staring at your hands.

‘What the fuck just happened.’ You mumbled to yourself, getting up off the bench walking back to the ship. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to drink or apologise.  

#bts #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts yoongi #bts namjoon #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts v #bts suga #bts jhope #bts jungkook #bts taehyng #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #park jimin #min yoongi #Jung hoseok #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #A pirates life for me #pirate AU #pirate bts

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Damien Marsh is Amy’s ex-boyfriend who she met in America and fell in love with but later dumped and threw him out of a glass window. He arrives to UA in hopes to reconcile with Amy.

Name: Damien Marsh Hero Name: Hirudo Species: Warlock Special Power: Drain Weapon: “Sentio Wand”

Damien: These A-holes don’t know nothing. They’re too obsessed being perfect little goody goodies that they don’t know that you just gotta do what it takes to win and get what you need. But oh well... makes it easier for me.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8v_4O44sfjM

TRIGGER WARNING: References/allusions to sexual assault.

He’s got a very approachable disposition, is highly intelligent and good at social situations as he can read people, and he’s also quite attractive too which makes him come off as a very nice, savvy and likeable guy. However this is all merely a façade, as Damien is actually extremely manipulative, deceptive and callous as he sees himself above everyone he interacts with and just weasels his way into things just so he can benefit himself.

Damien was inspired by some of the nastier boys I had the misfortune of growing up with, and the idea for him came to me when I listened to Christina Perri’s song ‘Jar of Hearts’ and Damien was born and it gave me an idea for his special ability of draining the power and energy out of people. I also thought about Amy’s history and I thought that she’d be the type to get into a bad relationship, because she has had bad relationships, whether it was familial or romantic.  

And the thing about Damien is that he’s a very insecure guy who thinks that everyone is so much better than him at everything, but to the point where he’s not very sympathetic because he lets all of his insecurities get to him and goes to extreme lengths to mask them by boasting about himself, presenting himself as this amazing and perfectly poised young man, and also taking credit for what others have done. He’s become like a leech, he sucks the positivity out of others if it means he’ll feel good about himself, because he does that. 

He literally sucked the joy and happiness out of Amy by draining her of her magic and rendering her powerless because it made him feel good, made him feel stronger and like he was above her in every way. Every time Amy couldn’t use her powers and magic, was because Damien made sure that she had no power while he did. So, he ultimately represents a toxic person who drains the life out of people around him like a parasite all for his own benefit and because he wants to feel good about himself, but resorts to hurting other people to do that so he doesn’t have to feel bad about himself. 

And he’s as slimy as he looks, seriously he’s one of the worst guys I’ve ever made, at least in terms of personality since he’s a total douche and makes BNHA jerks like Bakugo, Monoma and Shindo look like sweethearts.

Damien is a Jerkass incarnate, he’s emotionally abusive and manipulative to Amy, and also a complete jerk to Shinsou, Izuku and Todoroki when he meets them, and is a tool to boot since he’s such a faker and a shameless ass-kisser when he needs to be. However, people who are close to Amy such as Shinsou, Bakugo and Ashlen can see right through him, commenting that he absolutely stinks of bullshit and even Amy’s other classmates such as Jirou, Tokoyami and Tsuyu aren’t fooled by him and note that he’s a liar and a phony. 

Needless to say, many of Amy’s peers are not very fond of him when some of them greet him, Shinsou, Bakugo and Todoroki despise him, and Ashlen grows to quickly despise him since he’s as fake as the people from her old school and is well aware that he makes her best friend uncomfortable.

Their fears and concerns are all proven to be very founded since Damien’s intentions come to light and it urges Class 2-A to act and fight him since he threatened and harmed some of their classmates and even killed one. Sadly though, Damien actually shows that he’s a force to be reckoned with in his own right since he already knows everything about the class both from the news and his step-sister’s Divination power allowing her to know everything about anybody she focuses on. Damien’s also a very powerful warlock and considered a dangerous person to fight and he proves it…

Personality:

At the very beginning, Damien was initially an introverted and shy young man with a lot of insecurities over his powers and feeling weak in comparison to his peers. And he treated Amy very kindly, feeling shy around her, but was also happier when he was around her and had a great time when they first started going out.

Unfortunately, this quickly changed when he started a relationship with her as he grew possessive, jealous and later on almost emotionally abusive and neglectful towards her as he flirted with other women despite being with her and disregarded all of her words and did what he wanted because he felt like it.

Becoming increasingly famous also made him much more entitled and pompous, but Damien showed that he also lacked empathy as he had no problem hurting Amy’s feelings and failed to see why she was so hurt by his actions or when he deliberately lost her favorite toy as he merely told her that she’s too old for toys anyway. Damien seems to enjoy fame and riches more than anything, as he has no real desire to be a hero or help anybody as he merely claims that he wants to help people, but is simply interested in only helping himself.

To other people, he seems like a nice and collected young man, but soon it quickly becomes clear that he only acts polite to others when in reality he’s very judgmental, petty and arrogant. Having no qualms insulting others and mocking them, as he insulted Shinsou many times and mocked Izuku’s process as a student at UA, while also insulting others such as Todoroki and Tokoyami.

Damien is a parasite both figuratively and literally as he latches himself onto others so he can take their power and life-force to make himself stronger until there is nothing left for him to take. Almost everything he does isn’t on his own merit, as he made Amy do all the work for him and perform rituals that would benefit him. Not only that, but even his main weapon the ‘Sentio Wand’ is something he crafted using a strand of Amy’s hair so he can use the power flowing in her DNA for himself.

Because his power allows him to take and absorb other’s powers/energy and steal them for himself, he developed a superiority complex as he loves to brag about how powerful he is even though his power relies on him stealing other people’s powers just so he can have any strength at all. He’s also callous and cruel, as he had no problem putting Amy down just to see her down and make himself feel better about himself and seemed to enjoy doing this since it felt good for him, which also shows that he’s a hedonist who does things that he enjoys simply because it feels good, whether it’s moral or not.

Due to his superiority complex, he’s also a chronic harasser and an entitled ass who believes that he deserves anybody he wants and deserves to get whatever he wants from people, as he not only forced Amy into trying to give him oral sex, but also forces her to kiss him by using Concilium on her and allowing him to forcefully kiss her. He also does this to Shinsou, Izuku and a majority of Class 2-A by forcefully kissing them without their consent so he can absorb their life force and put into himself. 

Damien also has something of a misogynistic streak, or at least it’s only towards women he particularly dislikes as he makes misogynistic remarks towards Amy and her female friends, especially Ashlen and Madison as he noted that he needed to get Amy alone and away from them because he knows that ‘bitch friends always stick together’. He also made some pretty sexist remarks towards the other UA girls by calling them weak since neither of them have stood out in comparison to Amy, yet also says that Amy’s too much of a ‘bitch’ to get good attention, like Cordelia and the other Robichaux witches.

Ironically, he thinks highly of his younger stepsister because of her expertise in magic, intelligence and devotion towards him, but this may be because she’s the only human being that Damien has any love for and his only real redeeming quality. But Damien proves to be a bad influence on her as while he loves her very much, his worst qualities rubbed off on her she ultimately has no empathy for other people other than him. Damien is partially aware of this, but it’s why he’s protective of her, to the point of begging Papa Legba to keep her alive, although he got terrified when Papa turned over to murder him instead and it urged him to immediately offer to kill Amy instead of having either him or his step-sister die. Which shows that Amy didn’t mean that much to him because he had no problem trading her life for his own.

His lack of empathy extends to everyone else, as he looks down on everyone and humanity in general, insulting and belittling all of Amy’s peers. Damien is something of a sadist, as he enjoys going for a person’s weakest and sorest spots to provoke them into a reaction, as he lures Amy in and abuses her catatonic state when he reminds her of the hardships and personal feelings of abandonment she experienced from both Fiona and Hero Society, which allows him to drain her of her magic and kill her by drowning her in the bathtub.

His sadism extends to Amy’s other friends, as he makes fun of them when he’s fighting with all of them and mocks their grief over Amy as they discovered that he killed her. As he insults Todoroki by bringing up his traumatic childhood and friendship with Amy and also mocks Bakugo for his relationship with Amy, and pretends to sympathize with Izuku about his own past complications with the former. Damien also takes joy in making the others weaker than him and exerting his power over them by taking their power away for himself and appears to enjoy putting himself above others and crushing them afterwards simply because it makes him feel better about himself.

But despite his arrogance, Damien is a coward at heart as he pathetically pleaded for his life when Papa Legba was going to kill him and was willing to murder Amy if it meant that he could stay alive a little while longer. However, he also threw away lives of other warlocks who were his friends and who were helping him in his quest to find Amy, sacrificing them and letting them die or get thrown into jail by pro-heroes if it meant he could keep breathing air a little while longer. And finally, when he was killed, he tried to appeal to Amy as he begged and cried for her to call off the burning until the very end.  

He’s also a foil for pretty much all of Amy’s closest friends Shinsou, Ashlen, Madison, Bakugo, Izuku, Todoroki and Kaminari.

While Shinsou’s been Amy’s best friend since childhood, she only met Damien about 3 years ago. They both felt like misfits and underestimated by their peers due to their supposedly ‘evil’ powers but Shinsou wants to use his powers for good while Damien has no qualms with using his powers for his own selfish desires. Likewise, Shinsou’s friendship with Amy is genuine as they bonded over their powers and feeling like misfits while Damien feigned bonding with Amy just to get her to do his bidding.

Ashlen and Amy became very fast friends as Damien did, but Amy had no idea about Ashlen’s origins nor did she know about her witch heritage and developed a genuine friendship made up of love between each other but Damien was well aware of Amy’s connection to the Supreme and used her for his own benefit as he faked a bond and had no real love for Amy. They’ve also both turned off her powers, but Ashlen did it as a means to keep Amy from going overboard, and from hurting others and herself, while Damien did this to keep her under him and to feel like the dominant one of their relationship.

Madison’s a bad influence on Amy as was Damien, but for all the way she bullies and pressures Amy, she genuinely loves her and wants her to be happy and make her feel good while Damien is more interested in his own feelings and is more content with putting Amy down if it means he’s happy.

Izuku was Amy’s first love, although she convinced herself that it was Damien, and that he reminded her of Izuku when they first met, however, they’re both extremely different. Damien and Izuku were both bullied by their peers for being different from others with Izuku being quirkless and Damien being one of the ‘weaker’ warlocks, but the difference is Izuku always had the desire to help other people and kept his kind nature even after gaining his powers while Damien ultimately just wanted to help himself and his growing powers gave him a sense of entitlement. And then there’s their relationships with Amy, while they’ve each gone downhill before, Izuku always treated Amy with genuine respect and valued her as a good friend that he can learn from and truly made the effort to apologize to her when he hurt her, while Damien’s fondness for Amy was real in the beginning he started to instead see her as someone he can benefit from and he never felt apologetic for hurting her, and saw no fault in his actions towards her.

Bakugo and Damien have both been in a relationship with her, and unlike Bakugo, he initially treated her kindly and politely while Bakugo and Amy started off as enemies. However, their relationships are starkly different as Amy and Bakugo have a close, somewhat belligerent but passionate relationship and he does respect Amy and genuinely cares about her happiness. But Damien instead faked a good guy persona and used his charm to woo Amy and has no real respect for her nor does he care about her happiness. 

Damien and Todoroki bonded with Amy over sharing similar sad pasts, but Todoroki grew to appreciate and love Amy as he could truly understand her trauma and even began looking out for her when her past started to haunt her. And while Damien felt connected to her in the beginning, his selfishness showed as he started to only use Amy for his own comfort and couldn’t truly empathize with her and made no effort to do so. 

Kaminari and Damien have dated Amy, but Kaminari and Amy only went on one day and remained very good friends who absolutely love each other’s company and have a lot of genuine fun with each other and make each other smile and laugh, while Damien continued to date Amy but started to mainly do what he wanted to the point where Amy had to pretend she wasn’t miserable with him. 

Abilities/Super Moves:

Damien is a very powerful warlock, although physically he’s not very strong at all as he is very lanky and scrawny like most warlocks, with very little muscle and a very thin and skinny frame. But he becomes much physically stronger when he drains someone of enough energy and power to fuel himself. He also passed the Warlock examination by being able to perform Scrying, Transmutation and Stricidium. But Damien also showed to be quite proficient in at least four of the seven wonders such as Telekinesis, Concilium, Pyrokinesis and Vitalum Vitalis.

In fact, much like Amy, Damien has a very unique power that is a stronger form of one of the seven wonders due to having a parent who had a quirk that mutated into a unique, more powerful version of this wonder. He calls this power ‘Drain’ as it’s a much stronger version of Vitalum Vitalis, as Damien can balance the scales between life and death, but Drain allows him to also absorb his victim’s life-force, power, energy and vitality to make himself stronger and render them unable to use their power as Drain completely weakens them both physically and mentally. Drain is a very powerful and effective ability as anyone who falls victim to it is left powerless and unable to fight back to the point where some pass out from the drain in energy, or even die if Damien drains them of all of their life-force. And he can do so with numerous people as he drains one person, and uses his newfound strength to move onto the next on in a feeding frenzy he calls ‘Super Drain’.

But Damien appears to be only able to use this power through oral means by kissing his victims so he can drain and suck out their energy so he can take it in for himself. However, upon fighting Tokoyami, Damien realizes that he can’t kiss him to drain him, but instead uses his fangs that are also available for him to use to bite into someone to steal their life force as he bites Tokoyami on the neck instead to drain him of his energy, akin to a vampire. This move he would call ‘Vampire’s Kiss’ since he likens it to giving a hickey while draining his energy, much to Tokoyami’s great disgust. 

Although according to Damien, Drain can also allow him to completely drain out the power of a victim if he drains them entirely of their life-force and takes it in for himself, which explains why he has gotten even stronger over time because he’s taken the life-force and power of other warlocks and witches. 

Drain is also strong enough to take even some of the most dangerous powers from others that Damien attacks. In the form of a super move he calls ‘Leech’s Kiss’ as Damien realized that Izuku had some great powers upon kissing him and nearly killed him and stole his power by draining him of his entire life force because he had no idea it was the power of One For All that he was trying to absorb until he was stopped by Ashlen.

When Damien is draining someone of their life-force, his victims turn pale and sickly, but some also turn skeletal and hollow if he’s trying to absorb all of their life-force and energy, complete with hair turning dull, and their muscles going weak and almost atrophied.

While taking this life force makes Damien look healthier, younger and increasingly attractive, but this power comes at a cost to his own health as using Drain way too much has taken a toll on Damien’s body. He is mostly healthy and attractive on the outside but when he uses the power too much, his appearance drastically changes as he reveals himself as a pale, emaciated and sickly young man who looks constantly exhausted and has to rely on other’s life force just so he can replenish himself and regain his strength back.

Despite these flaws, Damien is still a very powerful and dangerous opponent in battle as he took down almost all of the 2-A students by himself using his magic and Drain alone, and absorbed their power and energy to make himself stronger and harder to beat. In fact he was even able to take down and drain the energy of strongholds such as Todoroki, Bakugo and Tokoyami once he caught them in his traps, and would have successfully killed Midoriya by sucking all of his life-force had Ashlen not saved him.

So while he’s a leech and a horrible person, he’s really not someone you want to fight in battle because he KNOWS how to lure people in, trick them and go for the kill since he’s an expert with Concilium, Telekinesis and Vitalum Vitalis.

It’s implied though that while he was burnt to the stake, that he’s not exactly dead-dead and could possibly make a return.  

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #american horror story #american horror story coven #AHS #ahs coven #ahs oc #ahs coven oc #american horror story oc #american horror story coven oc #bnha oc #mha oc #boku no hero academia oc #my hero academia oc #original character #warlocks #damien marsh #amy martinez

[witch-of-letters]

Our Work Is Never Done, Part 1/2 (Ezio Auditore x Reader)

Word Count: 4073

Summary: You are a Spanish Master Assassin who has accepted the contract to kill a low-ranked Templar in Rome. Ezio decides to lend you a hand, but even that doesn’t prevent the mission from going south.

Author’s Note #1: I’m really trying to break the ice mountain called ‘Writer’s Block’, so writing this fic and posting it is the first step to doing so. The plot is rather random, but it worked for me as it wasn’t that difficult to think through (my brain has difficulties with writing short stories though, lol, so that’s why I decided to divide the one-shot into two parts for easier reading).

Please note that there are rather negative references to the Christian religion, and the Reader is described as a fervent atheist. My work is purely fictional and is not meant to offend anyone. So without any further ado, relax, sit back, and enjoy reading this fic!

Author’s Note #2: Translations are at the end. Cursive - thoughts/emphasis/Italian. Bold cursive - places/Spanish

Feedback and comments are much appreciated ;3!

Chapter 2

     “Come forth and browse my wares! Fabrics from all over the Mediterranean sea!”  

     “Jewels! Buy some jewels! Necklace for a lady, a ring for a man!”  

     “Freshly baked pastries! Straight from the oven!”  

   Perched on the roof of a building, you watched as the merchants tried to turn people’s attention to their wares. Some of them took notice and approached the stalls, others simply ignored all the shouting, preferring to only look and move on. If it weren’t for the fact that you were on a mission, you would definitely buy some kind of trinket (courtesy of being paid handsomely for completing the contracts).

 For once, your target was an actual Templar rather than a sleazy and greedy noble, or some other little villain. Normally you preferred to leave them to the assassins of lower ranks, finding that while ridding towns and cities from evil was all good, your skills were still wasted on rabble. You weren’t named a Master Assassin for nothing.

 Soon enough, your target, Antonio Vello dei Campo, walked around the market, seemingly disinterested in what the merchants were offering. He even turned down a gently spoken offer of a generous discount by a woman, whom you saw attracting people with her beauty and charm. Judging by the bulky men at his sides, he was being escorted by them, very likely for protection from attackers. They glared at anyone who stared too long at their master. A pathetic attempt at intimidation, but it was enough to make the folk turn their eyes away.

 You contemplated your options of attack. Usually, the contractors didn’t care enough to specify in which fashion the intended target had to be killed, leaving only the small description on a parchment. Antonio wasn’t that important of a Templar. Sure, he had a lot of connections in both Italy and France alike (most of them made through arranged marriages with his family members), but he didn’t care enough to further all of his Order’s goals, making him a rather untrusted member among his comrades. That is why your reward would only be some 1500 florins. A big disappointment for you.

 As he moved further into the market, you stood up to follow his party, using your Eagle Vision to keep track of him (something that only your closest friends and family knew - especially the Auditores). And while you were more silent and stealthier than La Volpe himself, you still prayed to whoever was above, that no guards would spot you on the roofs. They were annoying enough to be a huge nuisance to the assassins.

 Getting rid of his bodyguards would be an easy feat as you often come across such brutes in your travels. You knew all their weaknesses, and no matter what kind of armour they wore, they would always fall by your blade. But then again, you couldn’t just underestimate them. Such behaviour can often prove to be fatal when one isn’t careful.

 Continuing to keep an eye on him, you quickly and carefully moved across the roofs. From the sidelines, it looked like a graceful dance, with the way you moved your limbs. Your friends and comrades loved to point that out, much to your embarrassment. You knew that you were very skilled, of course, but you were not the one to brag about it, and that’s what Ezio loved about you.

 *****

 Unbeknownst to you, his heart always clenched at the mere mention of your name, finding out one night after fighting the traitors within the Spanish Brotherhood that he had fallen in love with you. At that moment, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts go back to Cristina, his first love. He had long ago let her go, as he couldn’t be with her while avenging the deaths of his father and brothers. He even beat up, or rather tried to talk sense into her fiancé to be a good and loving husband to her, for Dios’ sake! But when he thought about you, he knew he would do things for you so much more than that. Aside from you being very skilled and humble, he loved your divine beauty - the way sun shone down upon you, putting your auburn locks ‘on fire’; your freckles that dotted your cheeks and forehead; and your athletic figure, putting all the other girls to shame (with the exception of Claudia, of course). He loved how you were able to speak many languages besides your mother tongue with the greatest of ease. He loved how kind and caring you were to children. He loved how you aided him in searching for eagle feathers for his mother. And he loved how passionate you were about changing the world for the better. He loved everything about you, but even he had his own insecurities.

 For one, he knew that he had a reputation of a womanizer (something he was never actually proud of), and he didn’t want you to think that you would be just a ‘fling’ to him. For two, you had rarely reciprocated his attempts at flirting with you. While you had mentioned that you were very bad at flirting with men and women alike, he could never have imagined that you would be so oblivious when it was being directed at you instead. For three, he was afraid of being rejected. You were his best friend and he was yours, but even that couldn’t assure him that you wouldn’t tell him ‘no’ if he were to confess his feelings. He was a grown man, but with you, he felt like a shy little boy twiddling his fingers.

 Despite Maria being in a catatonic state for a long period of time, it didn’t stop her from being observant. She saw how much attention her second-born gave to you, always looking directly you with a gleam in his eyes that she could only describe as ‘being in love’. After you gave her the eagle feathers to complete Petruccio’s collection, she was immensely grateful for your support, already thinking of you as her second daughter. She could only pray that Ezio would man up and buy a ring for you.

 To Claudia, you were a complete stranger at first. You were a foreigner and an assassin on top of that. You were glad that Ezio had spoken to her about you, believing that face-to-face introduction would go easier that way. It did, of course, just not as warmly as you had envisioned. She wasn’t rude to you, but she still held herself with pride and a certain coldness you had a rather hard time shaking off. But after many attempts at befriending her, Claudia finally caved in, surprised that you were so relentless. From then on, she became your second confidant - someone, with whom you could speak about your growing feeling towards her brother. Boy, was she glad to start making future plans for your eventual wedding (as Ezio had confided in her about his feelings for you too). She wouldn’t, of course, dare to say such a thing out loud. Well, only to her mother, that is.

 Mario, oh Mario, was more than very welcoming. When he first saw you, he immediately went for a hug which you returned wholeheartedly. He was glad that Ezio was making friends while travelling (and he secretly hoped that you would keep him from falling over the edge with his vengeance). When he brought Ezio to his study for a talk, he told him that you were a keeper and that he shouldn’t let you slip through his fingers. He even mentioned he would be glad to attend your wedding, making Ezio choke on his water in surprise. You didn’t forget to tell him how much you loved his uncle’s joviality. After all, you did need someone to lift up your spirits after botched missions, or whenever one of your friends/allies was killed.

 Everyone around you saw that you were meant to be together. Where he was hot-headed, you were calm. Where you were shy, he was confident. You completed each other. You were soulmates.

 *****

 Antonio didn’t stop walking until they reached Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore. The square in front of it was large, and far too open for your liking. You did not want to kill him in public, even though it was easier to do. Thankfully though, he entered the church. You would have to wear a perfect disguise...as a pilgrim.

 “It is a good day, is it not?” Ezio’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, effectively stopping you from proceeding with the mission.

 “Ezio! What are you doing here?! I’m on a mission!” you spoke with clear irritation. You hated being interrupted like that. He got the clue though.

 “Mi dispiace, Y/N. I didn’t realize.”

 “No, you didn’t,” you glanced at him,” but my target is in that church. Have to go inside and finish him off.” You didn’t care if you sounded rude, crude, or bloodthirsty. It was just a part of the job, and you didn’t care how you worded your sentences.

 Ezio squinted his eyes at the building, ”You need any help? I’m available.”

 “Of course you are,” you huffed, but without any malice whatsoever. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long. “Come along.” Before Ezio could respond, however, you were already scaling down the wall. Once you reached the ground, the two of you split up, so that you wouldn’t garner the attention of the guards positioned in small groups around the square.

 Avoiding them on any other day is fairly easy, but today, they seemed to be on high alert, eyes trained on people like hawks’ are trained on their prey. As far as you knew, there were no important celebrations planned today nor was the church being closed off for the visit of some nameless ruler within Italy. So to remain unseen, you had to blend in within the bustling crowd of people. Thankfully, no one seemed to care about a suspicious-looking hooded person walking around them (much to your - and Ezio’s - initial confusion at the people not recognizing the assassins moving right next to them, as you were quite     sure that wearing a hood in public was the most recognizable of all assassins’ trademarks).

 Despite you hailing from Spain and training under the hand of the then-leader, Benedicto, La Volpe was the one to teach you how to remain unseen in the crowd. While he himself never gave out any of his secrets, you still pointed them out, much to his shock and surprise, having never expected to be so translucent in his actions (at least in front of you anyway). You even knew his real name, which he pleaded you not to reveal it to anyone. You understood him. Very few people did.  

 From the corner of your eye, you spotted Ezio, calmly moving forward like he was just a regular person enjoying his day. You admired that about him - how he never seemed to be nervous or indecisive when he was on a mission, and sometimes, you wished you could be the same (as many of your former friends and comrades have pointed out how tense and serious-looking you were when working for your Order - you simply did not take the duties of an assassin as a joking matter). And while neither of you were great thinkers like Leonardo, you still had that certain air of wisdom around you, having seen things that most people would never see in their lifetime. Knowledge was power, and both of you recognized it. Your shared experience within the Brotherhood was what made you two unique in a way - you understood what being a real assassin entailed, and how much one had to sacrifice for the sake of others.

 Only a few moments later, you arrived at the east entrance of the church, walking into shadows. To blend in with the pilgrims, you had to shed your assassin robes for a dress or remain in your own pair of breeches and a white shirt (which were quite form-fitting and would most certainly attract the attention of men inside the building).

 “What next, uccellino?” you heard from beside you.

 “Get me a new dress, for one. I want to get inside but not by sneaking.”

 Ezio placed his hand under his chin in thought and hummed, “I see. Perhaps we can ask a servant for a spare change of clothes for us both.”

 You had to suppress a laugh at the thought of Ezio looking like he wanted to pray to the God he didn’t believe in. He narrowed his eyes at you, “What is it?”

 “Nada. Nada. It’s just that I have a hard time with picturing you as a devoted pilgrim wanting to do all that stuff with drinking ‘Jesus’ blood’, ‘eating a piece of his flesh’, and making a cross in front of yourself.” To think, any other religious person would strike you down for that comment alone. You really don’t care about that though.

 “So you’re saying that I don’t have the looks of a pious man?” his eyes were glaring at you, but his voice was teasing.

“No, you don’t have the ‘looks’ of a pious man, you have the ‘looks’ of a handsome asesino,” you retorted.

 “You think I’m handsome?”

 He was, but you didn’t dare to admit that out loud, so instead, you just walked inside the church to find a servant, leaving your enamoured friend behind.

 Soon enough, you spotted a young girl (perhaps of the age of twelve) carrying a crate full of candles. Before she could walk out of the room, you jumped in front of her, making her shriek in surprise. You quickly put your hand on her mouth while making a ‘be quiet’ gesture.

 “Promise me you won’t scream,” you told her. The poor thing looked frightened, wanting to run away the moment you released her. Ezio was watching from the corner, unseen.

 The girl looked around frantically, trying to see if she had an escape route or if she could grab anything to help her push you off of her. Grabbing her chin with your free hand, you forced her to pay attention to you.

 Looking her right in the eyes, you repeated, “Can you promise me that you won’t scream? I am not going to harm you, little one.” The girl gave you a single nod, no glimpse of a lie in her hazel eyes. You released her.

 “Di cosa hai bisogno da me?” she spoke.

 “We want some regular clothes for us both,” you gestured at yourself and Ezio. At the sight of him, the girl's eyes widened. He wasn’t that tall of a man but he still looked intimidating with his dark robes and Altaïr’s armour on.

 The girl motioned with her hand to follow her downstairs to the lower level of the church. ‘Servants’ quarters. Of course!’ you remarked, mentally cursing yourself for not thinking of those before. Yes...you and logic were not as good friends as anyone else might think. That didn’t stop you from being very skilled in other areas though.

 Without breaking your quick strides across the long hall, you glanced around from beneath your hood, noticing that not one soul was inside. It was a bit strange but not overly so since it was almost noon and they were most likely just performing their daily duties. Ezio, on the other hand, did not feel at ease at all. While he has never seen anything like that before, he knew that children could be used for sinister purposes as well as any grown-up, mostly for leading men and women into ambushes by lying; playing on their innocence to charm their way into people’s hearts, or even getting paid for killing their hirers for killing their enemies (and even that was a rare case). Dread was twisting his gut.

 No sooner than his chain of thought had ended, did they arrive in a well-lit room with a lot of big cupboards.

 The girl approached one of them, pressing her hand on the wooden door, “I vestiti di cui hai bisogno sono qui, signora.”

 You took a look inside. There were plenty of simple shirts and breeches. Even a couple of brown-coloured dresses. Good enough for you both. With no further thought, you grabbed a pair of each, tossing one to Ezio. You did hope they would fit him, or else, they would tightly cling to his physique...distracting you. Walking into an adjacent room, you redressed quickly, and neatly folded you assassin robes before hiding them in an empty chest.

 “Are you ready?” you heard Ezio asking.

 “Si. Let’s get going.” You walked a few steps before suddenly pausing in the doorway, “Wait a moment. Where’s the girl?!”

 Ezio looked around. Indeed, the girl had vanished, probably the moment you started taking off your robes. His heart clenched at the thought of her running upstairs to rat them out, but he had to remain focused on your task. Come what may, you two would have to improvise if it came to Antonio being alerted of your presence.

 Sighing, you continued walking back to the stairs while subtly checking if your blades hadn’t fallen off of you. The Bells signalling the start of a mass were already being rung. When you reached the ground floor again, you saw a sea of standing men and women before you, neither your target nor his bodyguards in sight. Even by briefly activating your Eagle Vision you couldn’t spot them.

 “Fuck,” you quietly swore under your breath, already getting frustrated at how your mission was proceeding. Ezio noticed the brief furrow of your brows, not enjoying the sight of a frown on your beautiful face in the slightest. Even he tried using his special sight, but like you, he had no luck. Was this Antonio that slippery of a bastard?

 You pulled Ezio in the middle of the huge room and made the sign of a cross on your chests. It felt absolutely distasteful to you, for you did not believe in ‘God’. If he ever existed, why hasn’t he shown his face? Did he think of you ‘mortals’ as too inferior to actually see it? You never believed in all that bullshit the church was propagating and its priests were spewing, and yet, you couldn’t deny that people needed something to believe in, even if it was a ‘nobody’ above your heads.

 The head-priest started with a simple ‘Preghiamo’, before reciting the prayers. People around you murmured along, some of them with heads bowed, others were keeping their eyes on the man and their hands clasped together. You acted as the latter, not daring to miss Antonio. After a few minutes though, you started to fidget, just waiting to dash forward and out of the stuffy room. At the end of each passage, everyone murmured ‘Amen’.

 You jolted a bit when a rough hand was placed on your shoulder.

 “Calmati, amore,” Ezio whispered, attempting to calm you down with his smooth baritone voice. It helped, but you turned your head to the side to prevent him from seeing you blush at his use of the word. The man had too much power over you already.

 “We need to get going, Ezio,” you whispered back. “We’ve been here for some time already and we still haven’t spotted him. My guess is that he’s still within these halls, as I haven’t heard the guards opening the big door.” With that you swiftly moved away from him, gently weaving through the throng of people until you reached the entrance to the side passage leading further into the church. Ezio was right on your heels.

 “I can’t wait to get out of this dress! Ugh!” you pulled at your scratchy collar. “But unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to change our clothes.”

 “I rather like seeing you in one. You wear them too rarely.”

 “I am a woman, but in our line of work, they’re simply impractical. They’re good whenever I need a disguise but they simply won’t do for assassinating people...or escaping enemies.”

 “True.”

 “There,” you pointed at the stone rafters above, ”we climb them, get a better view of this place. Before you get that thought inside your mind though,” you waved your your finger at him, “do not look up.” You immediately started scaling the wall, not being that mindful of your dress, of course.

 Now, while Ezio once loved looking up the skirts of women, he dropped doing that the moment he realized he was in love with you, the thought of it suddenly becoming disgusting to him. He wouldn’t dare to allow such indignity to happen. Not from himself. Not from anyone. Instead of retorting back, he kept silent and followed you up to the rafters. He too wished he had his assassin robes on. No good would come out of it if you two got spotted by either the priests or Antonio’s entourage.

 “Shhh, be silent for a moment.” You listened closely to all the sounds around you.

     The water dropping onto the stone ground below.  

     The murmurs of the praying pilgrims behind you.  

     The sound of someone unsheathing their sword -  

 “Wait! Did you hear it?!” you inquired urgently, stopping Ezio from moving altogether.

 “The sound is coming from over there,” he pointed at a small but heavy-looking door at the far east corner.

 “Then let’s get to it.”

 Thankfully, that part of the church was empty of the priests and the servants, making it easy to sneak around. You doubted that Antonio’s room had more than one door, but even then, you could be wrong, as the door could lead into basement instead. Normally, you would do some reconnaissance in order to plan ahead and keep the chance of a failure to a minimum, but now, you’d have to improvise.

 “We have to go inside through that door. I see no other ways to enter the room.”

 Ezio cast a glance at his steel gauntlet, the hidden blade ready to be sprung out at any moment. You readied your own.

 With a quick inhale, you opened the heavy door with force...only to find Antonio lying in the pool of his own blood. Your eyes widened at the sight. You and Ezio arrived too late, but you had to keep your head cool and eyes focused.

 Turning him over, you saw the wound in the centre of his chest, dark red blood staining his overcoat.

 “Stabbed through the heart. What a painful way to go…,” you murmured quietly as you closed the man’s eyes with your hand. Ezio put a hand on your shoulder.

 “It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

 “No, it isn’t, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” you paused, looking at Antonio’s corpse again. “Did his guards kill him?”

 “Possibly, since I don’t see them in here.”

 “Ah, then I guess that his ignorance of his superiors’ orders has finally caught up to him. He never was a ‘good’ Templar. Still, he could’ve told us at least something, but now, he’s dead and his lips are forever sealed. I’ll have to tell Mario about this.” Before you could leave though, Ezio pulled you into his embrace which you gladly returned. No words were spoken between you because they weren’t needed. They were unnecessary.

 Suddenly, the heavy door closed behind you with a loud screech. You ran towards it, trying to pull at the handle, but it didn’t budge in the slightest.

 “¡Maldición! ¡Estamos atrapados!” you shouted angrily. Ezio knew enough Spanish to understand what you meant, and he couldn’t help but be angry himself (something that hasn’t happened a lot in the past few years). You saw some kind of smoke coming from under the door.

 “Are they starting a fire behind it?!” You were not comfortable with the thought of being burned alive, even if it was beside the man you loved.

 “I don’t know, but...wait, do you smell it?”

 “Smell what?”

 “Something sweet and...calming.”

 Indeed, when you inhaled the air, it had a whiff of sweet vanilla and jasmine, almost instantly calming you down. Something wasn’t right though as your eyelids kept getting heavier and heavier, and all of your senses became dull. The last thing you heard before your mind shut down completely was a confused     ‘What-’.

Translations (Spanish):

Dios - God

Nada - Nothing

¡Maldición! ¡Estamos atrapados! - Damn it! We’re trapped!

Asesino - assassin (male)

Translations (Italian):

uccellino - little bird

Calmati, amore - Calm down, love

Mi dispiace - I’m sorry

Di cosa hai bisogno da me? - What do you want from me?

I vestiti di cui hai bisogno sono qui, signora. - The clothes you need are here, lady

Preghiamo - Let us pray

Tagging: @sassenach-on-the-rocks // @marshmallow--3 // @assassins-and-hidden-blades // @bangtansugababy // @imagines-of-the-creed // @kittitt // @kisstheassassins // @iceboundstar // @unreadpoppy // @ass-sass-sin-o // @one-who-hunts-eagles // @deejayers // @lefrenchfrye // @mavriarch // @theswordofeden // @mindadarksight // @undertastic-dork // @storminwomanform // @fanfic-reblog-central

#ezio auditore #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore imagine #ezio auditore one-shot #assassin's creed #assassins creed #assassin's creed brotherhood #assassins creed brotherhood #assassin's creed one-shot #ezio x reader #creedwork

[gascon-en-exil]

FE16 Black Eagles (Edelgard) Liveblogging

Chapters 5-7. The plot’s still basically the same, but a different army and different supports...plus some stuff I noticed a while back that I’ve been forgetting to comment on.

As much as her character continues to get on my nerves (see below), Bernadetta is proving to be incredibly useful on the battlefield. Part of that is just how versatile bows are, but her Crest is basically Adept from Jugdral and Tellius and as such is more noticeable than the small boosts to damage or healing that most other Crests provide. She’s a cavalier now and well on her way to bow knight.

The Eagles casters have just been getting even better, and I haven’t even gotten Linhardt to Warp yet. On a whim I decided to indulge Edelgard’s budding talent and make her a monk for a while, and though I’ve since switched her over to lord she’s not that bad as a magic user even though her STR is clearly higher. Hubert’s budding talent nets him the Frozen Lance combat ability, which is absurdly powerful and gives him a legitimate reason to keep one equipped. Also useful for his eventual move to dark knight, since male casters have no choice but to go hybrid if they don’t want to stay in advanced classes. 

Caspar is still a less sturdy Dedue, while Petra fulfills roughly the same role as Felix while offering more overall versatility in weapons options. I’ve been keeping up with her axe and lance ranks in classes, so she can switch to a flying class later on if I need one. I’m making Sylvain a great knight just so I can see if they’re worth using at all, but he’s well suited to get there from cavalier/paladin and he’s since found his footing as a mobile tank.

The Eagles are much more stingy with paralogues; I’ve only gotten Ingrid and Dorothea’s so far. It’s noticeably gayer at the end since Ingrid gives Dorothea a ring, but that’s about it. Are most of the Eagles paralogues in Part 2?

Interesting to note that the Deer occupy the same position for the other two houses in both inter-house battles, while the Lions and Eagles switch places. The professors leading each change really gives that initial house choice a Pokémon feel, but overall it’s easy to tell even early in the story that the Deer are the awkward third party to these conflicts. Makes me even more curious to see how it plays out from their perspective; I’ll be disappointed if Claude or someone else doesn’t have a quip about feeling left out of the “Battle of the Eagle and Lion” from the name alone.

Story/Character observations

I really like the stylized artwork and introductory narration for each month. They explain the names of the months and illustrate the passing seasons. I rather wish there was a snowy version of the monastery for use during the winter months, to better match the climate which seems to tend more toward short summers and long harsh winters. It makes me think of one of the underrated details of Path of Radiance, where the maps reflect the passage of the seasons as the story progresses.

I almost forgot about Jeritza completely, and little surprise why since there’s almost nothing to him. Unlike with Tomas they didn’t bother to make him not suspicious in the slightest. Unless the Part 2 paralogue explaining the Death Knight is incredibly fascinating (I doubt it) I don’t get why some people are so into him and want him to be recruitable/a romance option. And why does he sound catatonic whenever he talks?

Speaking of me not understanding fandom tastes at all, Bernadetta does not improve on further exposure. Most of her supports still involve her screaming and running away from everyone, and her abusive backstory is more nonsensical than anything. Why would her father think that tying her to a chair, or dragging her from her room so forcibly that she hurt herself struggling, would teach her to be a good wife? Being that Adrestians are the Germans of this setting I’m reminded of how those people turned my favorite childhood conte into a macabre tale of a woman mutilating her daughters’ feet in an attempt to marry them off, so maybe this is just a strange cultural thing. Either way I really don’t get the hype.

It’s surprising how much major story content got relegated to supports in this game, but it’s been popping up in Edelgard and Hubert’s supports as well as in Rhea’s C, the last of which I got without trying very hard after dumping some extra gifts on her.

One of the many critiques I’ve read about Edelgard is that her canon bisexuality has more to do with Avatar worship (à la Rhajat) than genuine sexual preference, and while she does seem overly willing to share with Byleth I was pleased to note that there’s more to her attraction to women than that. Dorothea outright propositions her in their B support - as Dorothea does to basically everyone - and Edelgard isn’t opposed to the idea. Dorothea has some pretty good stuff in general; she forces Caspar to engage in incest roleplay (well, Silas went there in Fates...), and in her Bernadetta support she reveals that she’s not above fighting back at men who’ve tried to assault her.

Ferdinand/Linhardt ends at B, but it’s so unexpectedly companionable that I could see them having a paired ending if they’d gotten an A support. What a shame.

Hubert has been growing on me a bit. It helps once it’s understood that he comes from a long line of evil chancellors and (per his Edelgard support) decided from an early age to own that role as hard as he could, hence the vampiric look and evil laugh and constant death threats. He does also soften a little here and there. One bit with the story though: in a scene at the end of Chapter 5 he says something to the effect that he’ll have to take matters into his own hands for Edelgard’s sake, and it’s in the next chapter where Flayn turns up missing. Did he arrange that, and/or planting Monica/Kronya? The Flame Emperor is the one to show up at the end of Chapter to call off the DK, so was Edelgard not pulling the strings of that particular plot?

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Spoilers

[hippychick006]

5.03 - Free to be you and me

Or the one where Sam and Dean don’t share any screen time or even talk at all. Having said that, there’s some good scenes that switch between the brothers to show what each of them are doing.  I also like the juxtaposition of how awkwardly Dean and Castiel work together in this episode, with how seamless Dean and Sam worked together in the previous episode.  Jared has some great scenes with Adrianne Palicki, Mark Pellegrino and some guest actors that did a great job with playing hunters.  Dean’s primarily with Castiel, though I did like the Raphael scene the first time I watched.

It’s an important episode in terms of the myth arc and Sam finding out he’s Lucifer’s vessel, but on re-watch, I’d fast forward through many of the scenes now.        

The episode opens on Sam sleeping (or trying to) in a motel room.  I’m issuing a shirtless!Sam alert for this one.  He rolls over and sees Jess is beside him.  This scene is so sweet.  I love when they manage to bring Jess back in interesting ways. We see that Sam loved her very much.  Sam says he misses her so much.  She asks him what he’s doing running away.  He says it’s different this time, “Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I’m a freak.”  

Jess: Even at Stanford you knew. You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down, maybe, but you knew. Maybe that's what got me killed.

Sam denies it, but Jess says: “I was dead from the moment we said hello.”  Jess tells him she’s trying to protect him from himself, he can’t run, the past will always catch up with him and the people closest to him will die.    Sam says he won’t make that mistake again. Jess says things won’t ever change with Sam.   Sam looks down and when he looks back up, Jess is gone.  

After the title screen, we get taken back to one week earlier.  I like the scenes we get that switch between what Sam and Dean are doing.  Sam’s dropped off (in a different car than we saw him hitching away in last week).  He’s arriving at the motel we saw him with Jess in the opener, which is in Garber, Oklahoma.   When he opens the trunk to get his belongings, we switch to Dean, closing baby’s trunk and it’s clear from the way he’s suited and booted (not to mention the weapon he places under his coat), that Dean’s on a hunt alone.  Fyi, Dean’s in Greely, Pennsylvania, which google maps tells me is about a 21 hour ish, drive from where Sam is.

Sam gets a job at a bar and Dean’s killing vampires with one liners: “Eat it, twilight.”   Sam wipes his brow while he’s chopping lemons, Dean wipes his blood covered face after chopping the head off a vampire. Sam’s cleaning the bar, Dean’s cleaning baby.

We get the same effect as the last episode in that the soundtrack song – Lynyrd Skynyrd Simple Man – changes to be heard coming from the radio as Dean is driving.    He looks over to the empty passenger’s seat as he drives.

We next see Dean in a motel room and this scene is one of the ones Hellers always pull out when everyone else says they don’t see Destiel.  Castiel appears suddenly behind Dean.  Dean jumps and thumps the sink.  He’s clearly annoyed and glares, “Don’t do that!”   He turns around and Castiel is standing far too close.  Dean can’t look at Castiel, not because of attraction, but because he’s angry at having to tell Castiel the same thing over and over and it’s awkward that he’s too close: Dean: Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?   Castiel does move back, but he again comes into Dean’s space during the scene.  I’m at a loss for how anyone sees these scenes as “romantic”.  There’s clearly a power imbalance and it’s uncomfortable to watch Castiel continually disrespecting Dean’s wishes. 

Long scene short, Castiel needs Dean’s help to trap and interrogate the angel that killed him (Raphael), to get God’s location.  

Dean: You're serious about this…  So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together? 

Dean asks why he should do this and receives the answer that no angel will dare harm him.  Dean: “Oh, so I'm your bullet shield.”   Castiel says Dean’s the only one who will help him.  He even adds a please.  Dean agrees, Castiel reaches up to zap Dean’s forehead, which Dean vetoes because “last time you zapped me someplace I didn’t poop for a week...we’re driving.”

Back to Sam – or Keith, since he’s using a different name – Lindsey the bartender flirts with him, asking if he plays darts.  Sam says it depends what they are playing for.  Lindsey says when she wins, Sam can buy her dinner and tell her his life story.   Sam agrees.  He steps up and I think he scores 100, but then gets distracted by the news, which is freak hail, lightning strikes and fire, all affecting a single local town.  The older bartender (not Lindsey), turns the TV off and says:  Damn. Is it me or does it seem like it's the end of the world?

Dean and Castiel have arrived in Maine.  Dean asks why they’re here (not sure why he didn’t do that on the drive).   Castiel wants to speak to a deputy sheriff that saw the archangel and his plan consists of: “We'll tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is.”

Unsurprisingly, Dean does not agree with that plan.  He puts a fake ID in Castiel’s coat, then adjusts his tie to be properly done up (like you would do with a child), and tells him that when humans want something, they lie.  Long story short, this is the scene where Cass holds his ID badge upside down and Dean says, “He's, uh, he's new.”   This scene would be funnier if we’d got an explanation for when Castiel had a picture taken to get a fake ID done, otherwise the scene just doesn’t make sense as it stands.

They interview the deputy who witnessed the incident (which was a riot that turned into an explosion at a gas station).  Castiel “helpfully” interjects on occasion with things like “It's angels and demons, probably… they're skirmishing all over the globe.”

Sheriff (to Castiel): Come again?  (to Dean) What did he say?

I think what’s funny about this is that Castiel is sitting nearest the ear the sheriff can’t hear with (as it got damaged in the explosion), so there’s an element of, “am I really hearing this right?” at play here.

Dean and Castiel speak at the same time and it’s certainly not winsync. Dean: nothing, Castiel: demons.  They repeat this.  Then Dean covers with: Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt.

Once they get past the awkwardness, they learn that one guy survived the explosion, not a scratch on him.

Dean: Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air? 

Sheriff: Uh, no, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's.

I had to look up Kolchak reference.  This is from wiki: Kolchak: The Night Stalker is an American television series that aired on ABC during the 1974–1975 season. It featured a fictional Chicago wire service reporter—Carl Kolchak, played by Darren McGavin—who investigated mysterious crimes with unlikely causes, particularly those that law enforcement authorities would not follow up. These often involved the supernatural or science fiction, including fantastic creatures.  

Wasn’t this what Kripke originally wanted to go with, a reporter investigating urban legends? Glad he went with the brothers.

Castiel helpfully repeats “Saint Pete's.” to Dean and not for the first time this episode, Dean really wishes his brother were here.

Down at the Saint Pete’s hospital, the survivor – local mechanic Donnie – is catatonic.  Raphael has left his vessel in a terrible state.   Dean: So, is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?

Castiel: No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.

Oh great, that’s just…

Sam’s researching revelations (in latin), presumably because of the issues happening in the local town.  He picks up his phone and scrolls past everyone to get to Dean.  His brother isn’t on speed dial?!  He has a lot of names, a couple I think we met.  Interesting that Brady isn’t among them. He ignores my shouting, “Just call your brother, you idiot” and scrolls back up to Bobby’s number.  

He tells Bobby about the omens he’s found. 'And upon his rising there shall be hail and fire mixed with blood.' He says they’ve already got the first two, so blood can’t be far behind.   Bobby asks why Sam’s calling.  Sam questions that Dean didn’t tell him (about Sam not hunting).  

Bobby: He told me.

Sam: Yeah. So, I just thought you might want to find out who's in the area and put a man on this.

Bobby: Okay, let me see if I can think of the best hunter who might be in the immediate vicinity—oh, that'd be you.

Sam says he can’t and that he’s got to go.  Bobby protests, but Sam hangs up the phone. Bobby looks sad.

Dean’s in an abandoned house, looking through his dad’s journal.  Castiel flaps in and Dean asks where he’s been – presumably Castiel just did his usual and disappeared without explanation.  Castiel responds: Jerusalem.

Dean (sarcastically): Oh, how was it?

Castiel (perfectly seriously): Arid.

I miss this Castiel that didn’t understand humour and took everything literally.  

Castiel sets a jug on the table and Dean asks what it is.  Castiel responds that it’s oil, very special and rare.  Dean makes a joke about trapping Raphael with a nice vinaigrette. Then asks more seriously “Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?”  Castiel says it’s harder.  Dean asks if there’s a chance of surviving this.  Castiel says Dean does (have a chance), implication is, Castiel doesn’t.  Dean: So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow.

Castiel confirms this and Dean seems completely unperturbed (I miss these days), He asks Castiel what his plans are for his last night on earth.

Castiel: I just thought I'd sit here quietly

Dean disagrees and suggests booze and women.  He quickly discovers through Castiel’s awkwardness that the angel hasn’t ever done the deed (why would he, he’s not human?).  Dean: There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go. (no hellers, he’s not offering his own services, he’s taking him out to get laid with hookers).

Back at the bar, Sam sees hunters he knows walk in and turns his back, walking away to try not to be recognised.  No luck, the hunter calls after him and blows his alias by calling him Sam.  Lindsey calls him on it and Sam says it’s his middle name, which she laughs at.   Lindsey asks if the guys are his friends.  One (Steve) answers: Hunting buddies. With his dad. Samuel here is quite the hunter himself.

Lindsey: Wow. You killed deer and things?

Tim: Yeah… and things.

Awkward!  Sam gets them drinks and Tim apologises for busting him.  I like seeing hunters from around their dad’s time, but sadly these guys will turn out to be assholes.  They tell him about the demons and that Bobby told them Sam was off limits.  Sam confirms it, but Tim says they really could use all hands.  Sam say’s he’s sorry.  Tim tries again, but Sam’s not having any of it. They leave for the hunt, telling Sam he’s buying them beers when they get back.

Lindsey: So, your parents were drunk when they named you and you shoot Bambi?

Sam says it’s a long story, but Lindsey’s had enough, she’s buying dinner and they are going to talk.  Sam says he can’t, but Lindsey is insistent.  Got to say, I’m not respecting the boundaries with either Castiel or Lindsey in this episode or actually Dean in terms of Cass getting drunk and having sex.

I absolutely have to say kudos to Misha for this next scene though.  He looks absolutely terrified as he looks around the scantily clad women: “This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here!”

Dean: Dude, you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.

A hooker approaches and asks Castiel’s name.  He doesn’t answer so Dean has to answer for him, which makes Castiel jump.  Dean asks her name in turn, which turns out to be Chastity. Castiel downs half his beer then Chastity tugs Castiel up and leads him away. Dean stops him, giving Castiel money saying: “If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger.”  Castiel doesn’t move.  Dean: “Don’t make me push you.” 

I’m can’t help wondering if this is something Dean also did with a young Sam.

Another hooker walks by and Dean turns to follow her.  He’s having a drink with her at the bar when they hear a scream.  He goes to investigate, Castiel is standing in the hallway, more disheveled than normal.  Chastity is pissed and shouts at Castiel and then also at Dean as she angrily stomps off, still grumbling.

Dean: The hell did you do?

Castiel: I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.

Dean rolls his eyes: Oh no man… This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.

They have to exit quickly, and Dean laughs when they get back outside.  Castiel asks what’s so funny.  Dean: Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.

Back with Sam and it looks like Lindsey has finally worn Sam down as they are eating dinner. Lindsey’s still trying to get Sam’s story and asks again about the guys from earlier.   Sam says they used to be in the same business together. When Lindsey presses for details, Sam tries to change the subject.  

Lindsey: Witness protection, right? You're Mafia?

Sam (laughs): I'm not Mafia.  

He sees Lindsey is switching off and relents a little as he tells her “I used to be in business with my brother. Truth is I was pretty good at the job. But...I made some mistakes, I did some stuff I'm not so proud of, and people got hurt. A lot of people.”

Me having just re-watched the entirety of the last few seasons.  I’m going to need to see a list of the people that got hurt because of what Sam did.  Stat!

Lindsey asks what Sam was hooked on, because she knows the look.  Sam looks uncomfortable, I’m thinking drinking demon blood isn’t something he can easily fess up to at addiction anonymous groups.   Lindsey pulls out a medallion and says she’s three years sober. Sam: “You work in a bar.”

Lindsey: So do you. Look, Keith. I don't know you and I'm the last person to be giving advice, but I do know that no one has ever done anything so bad that they can't be forgiven. That they can't change.

Castiel and Dean are at the hospital.  Castiel is pouring the oil in a circle around Raphael’s vessel explaining that no angel can touch or pass through the flames (or they die).  Dean asks how they’ll get Raphael there.  Castiel says there’s something like a phone line between a vessel and his angel.  You just have to know how to dial. He leans down to Donnie’s ear and chants in Enochian.

Dean: Just out of curiosity, what is the average customer wait time to speak to an archangel?

Castiel: Be ready. He lights a match and drops it on the oil, which bursts into a ring of flame.

Much later (that it’s turned from day to night.  Dean and Castiel are driving back to the abandoned house. Dean: “Well that's a day I'll never get back.”  

He enters the house and Castiel grabs him and tells him to wait.  There’s bright white light and Raphael is there in Donnie’s body, impressive lightning display of his wings.  Dean isn’t so impressed, he says all Raphael’s done is shot the lights in the room.   Raphael responds: And the Eastern Seaboard.   He threatens to take Dean to Michael. Dean says he’s going nowhere with Raphael.  Raphael reminds him of the stomach cancer Zachariah gave him. Dean said it was hilarious.  

Raphael: Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination.

Raphael’s arrogance is his undoing though as Dean says they knew he was coming.  Castiel lights a zippo and and drops it.  Raphael is now standing within a circle of fire and glares at Dean.  Raphael glares at Dean who responds.  “Don't look at me, it was his idea!”

Castiel asks Raphael where God is, Raphael says he’s dead.

Back at the bar and Sam’s cleaning up.  Tim’s back and asks Sam if he’s got something to tell him.  Sam says no and asks where the other two are.  Tim answers that Steve’s dead and that the demons told them things about Sam.  Sam refuses to talk but Reggie arrives and he’s holding Lindsey hostage with a knife.

Raphael and Castiel continue to have daddy abandonment issues.  Though it’s nice as part of this discussion that Dean puts the blame for the apocalypse where it belongs:

Raphael: Careful. That's my Father you're talking about, boy.

Dean: Yeah, who would be so proud to know his sons started the frigging apocalypse.

Back at the bar, Sam falsely confesses to starting the apocalypse.  

Me @Sam, you’re doing great sweetie.   If only the others involved would take some responsibility for their own actions. Thankfully, before I can really get started on this topic, we quickly go back to Dean, Castiel asks Raphael that if God’s dead, then who brought him back. Raphael suggests Lucifer because he needs all the rebellious angels he can find.  Castiel realises Raphael truly believes God is dead so doesn’t know anything. He goes to leave.  Raphael warns him about just leaving him here, that he will find him.  

Castiel: Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch.

Dean: What he said.

Best part of the episode is back with Sam as this is a great scene.  Tim has a tube of demon blood and wants Sam to take it so he can go with them and kill the demons.  Sam refuses but Tim says they’ll kill Lindsey if he doesn’t.  Reggie has handcuffed Lindsey to the bar and advances on Sam. Reggie charges Sam who impressively tosses him onto a pool table and starts punching him, but Tim takes Sam down and together with Reggie, force the demon blood into Sam’s mouth.  They force his mouth closed until he swallows.  They retreat and Sam gets up, he spits the blood in Tim’s eye who can’t see to fight back now.  Sam gets the upper hand and the kick he gives Reggie is worth watching the episode for.  Sam hauls Tim up and looks as though he’s going to kill him with Reggie’s knife, but sees Lindsey watching and she’s terrified.  He stops and tells them both to leave.   They say they’ll be back, but I’m pretty sure we never see or hear from them again.  

Dean gives Castiel a pep talk about missing fathers.  “I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?”  Castiel believes God is alive and Dean says then go find him. Castiel asks how Dean is.  Dean says he’s good.

Castiel: Even without your brother?

Dean: Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy.

Thankfully, when Dean glances to the passenger seat and it’s empty, we see from his face that all of that was just Dean’s usual bullshit where he puts his game face on to try to convince others of what he’s saying.  

Back at the motel room, Sam is sleeping (in a t-shirt this time – wth Sam?  Pick a sleeping attire and stick to it!).  He hears Jess call his name and he wakes abruptly. Jess is back and Sam kisses her. He tells her he loves her then sits up and faces away from her on the bed.  He tells her he misses her but she’s wrong about him.  “People can change. There is reason for hope.”  Jess tells him there isn’t and then morphs into Lucifer (Sam doesn’t see this).  Sam asks how Jess can be so sure

Lucifer: Because you freed me.

Sam gets up and moves away.  

Lucifer: You are a hard one to find, Sam. Harder than most humans. I don't suppose you'd tell me where you are?

That would be a nope as Sam asks what Lucifer wants.  Lucifer wants to give Sam a gift for freeing him.  Sam wants nothing from him.  Lucifer tells Sam he’s sorry, but that Nick is just a Plan B. He can barely contain him. Sam asks what Lucifer is talking about.   Lucifer: Why do you think you were in that chapel? You're the one, Sam. You're my vessel. My true vessel.

Sam looks horrified: “No. That'll never happen.”

Lucifer: I'm sorry, but it will. I will find you. And when I do, you will let me in. I'm sure of it.

Sam realises Lucifer needs his consent, which Lucifer confirms.  Sam: I will kill myself before letting you in. 

Lucifer:  I'll just bring you back.  He sighs and continues: Sam. My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you've done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. If there was some other way...but there isn't. I will never lie to you. I will never trick you. But you will say yes to me.

Sam says he’s wrong, but Lucifer says he knows Sam better than Sam knows himself.  Sam asks why him.  

Good question, Sam, let’s listen carefully to the answer:

Lucifer: Because it had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you.

Hold up there sparky, “it always had to be you” Sam, until the writers wanted to bring Lucifer back and decided that anyone can be Lucifer’s vessel, including another angel, so your entire storyline this season is now a complete waste of time, which can be added on to last season being a waste of time since all that was required to free Lucifer is a witch and a spell.  Having said that, scenes like this one over the years are why they keep bringing him back. It’s a very good scene between Jared and Mark.

Poor Sammy, the hits just keep coming for him.  Up next, the End, or the one where Jensen works his ass off, doing double time and Jared comes in and steals the episode. (paraphrasing Jensen’s words).

#supernatural #season 5 #rewatch #5.03 #free to be you and me #episode recap

[morningsound15]

mad filaments, ungovernable shoots sounds really interesting for the wip game!

i actually changed the title on that fic! i’m now calling it the distance between dust and what we are now.

BUT!! here you go:

this is a clexa story!! and a famous-AU!! finn is a famous pop star and clarke is his manager (/girlfriend). he’s got a world-tour (his first) starting soon and clarke and bellamy (the choreographer) have to hire a bunch of dancers to dance behind his singing act…. and guess who gets hired as one of his dancers? featuring all your favorite cast of characters as dancers, roadies, stage managers, rival pop artists, etc. etc. etc.

there’s dancing, there’s sexual tension, there’s tabloid photos and instagram/social media drama… what more could you ask for?

i’m doing the WIP challenge so send me a title of your choosing and i’ll share a snippet or factoid about it!

snippet under the cut:

After twenty-five or so more performers, Clarke wasn’t quite as excited as she had been after Lincoln’s piece.

Certainly, there were a few standouts: a shy boy named Monty, Octavia (who seemed to excel no matter what Bellamy threw at her; which Clarke greatly admired), a soft-spoken blonde named Harper, a striking woman called Anya, and a few others she was less sure about. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened. Since Lincoln, no one had floored her in quite the same way. No one had been able to quite match his level of explosive, expressive performance. That wasn’t to say that all of the dancers weren’t talented (Bellamy had done an excellent job of whittling the 200 down to the best of the best), but as the number of dancers left to perform diminished, and as each solo performance left her feeling less and less optimistic, she was really feeling like Lincoln was going to be the highlight of their day. They peaked too early. Clarke had to slump down low in her seat and bite her tongue to stop from sighing.

She was already working through her inevitable fight with Finn in her head — how to make Lincoln the center of the routines without detracting from Finn’s overall performance (and, more importantly, without bruising his ego) — when Bellamy’s voice cut through her quiet contemplation.

“Thanks, John,” Bellamy said now, smiling and nodding politely at the man on stage. The man under the floodlights looked pale, and almost gaunt. His eyes were big and wide, his hair a little wild, his jaw sharp and with just the slightest sneer pulling at his lips (it might have just been his resting-face, or else a persona he adopted to seem ‘cooler’ or more desirable, but still… Clarke didn’t really love his attitude). “We’ll let you know when we’ve made a decision.”

John nodded from the stage. “Sure. Thanks, guys.” A slight pause. “Also, I go by ‘Murphy.’ If you don’t mind. There are too many Johns.”

Bellamy’s smile never faltered. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Clarke stayed silent. She hadn’t yet spoken in one of the auditions. Mostly because she felt like it was really none of her business. Yes, she was Fin’’s manager, and she was ostensibly in charge of this tour; she knew that, logically, in the end, she had the final say in any and all decisions. But at the same time… she knew when someone outranked her. And Bellamy was certainly more of a dance expert than she could ever hope to be. It was why she hired him, after all (and she was forever grateful that she had, because he had become one of her best friends; an indispensable partner on long tours and painful bus rides). She stayed quiet and deferred to him, allowing him to direct the dancers to and from the stage, only supplying her quiet commentary when he asked from it.

Murphy had long-since exited the stage. In the brief pause between acts, Bellamy turned to her. “Well?” he asked, eyebrow up.

Clarke shrugged. “Good. Pretty good. I wasn’t stunned but we’re pretty short on male talent and he has a lot of potential.”

Bellamy nodded. “Good, I agree.”

“How many more?” Clarke asked, glancing at her watch. It was approaching dinner time. They had been here for almost eight hours already.

“Only four.”

Clarke sighed and slumped back down in her seat. “Good. I can’t wait to be out of here.”

Soft footsteps from the stage. Bellamy and Clarke cut their conversation short and turned to watch the new dancer — a woman, this time — approach center stage.

Clarke’s heart leapt in her chest and she immediately sat up straighter in her seat. She blinked a few times and tried not to quite-so-obviously leer but it was hard because this new woman… Fuck.

Fuck.

She stood center-stage, her shoulders relaxed and her arms held loosely behind her back. It brought to mind the curious image of a soldier standing at ease. The woman’s shirt — tight and black and cut so that her entire midriff was exposed — hung loosely off of one shoulder. She wore tight black dance shorts that made her legs seem long and tall and impossibly graceful. Her number was pinned, perfectly centered, to her shirt. She looked entirely relaxed, un-ruffled, and rather dry considering she’d been dancing for he better part of eight hours.

Clarke’s eyes traced the intricate tattoo on her bicep. Her mouth ran dry. How had she not noticed her before now?

Clarke had seen a fair share of attractive women in her life, don’t get her wrong. She had seen a fair number of attractive women just today. Dancers weren’t exactly hard to look at. But this woman… something about her… about the way she stood, about the way she walked, about the way her hair fell, untied and wavy over one shoulder, at the way her piercing eyes stared back at Clarke—

Clarke started in her seat, and then blushed and averted her eyes. She had been caught staring. Like some hormone-ridden fourteen-year-old drooling over a hot teacher.

She looked down at her notes and pretended to scribble something on the paper, but her pen just traced and traced and traced circles, providing nothing constructive to her already extensive observations. She cursed under her breath and hoped Bellamy wouldn’t notice.

Bellamy, thank God, wasn’t as useless as her today. “Whenever you’re ready, Lexa.”

The music started playing and Clarke forced her head up. She had to watch. She couldn’t be fucking useless just because she thought this girl was pretty… just because she was embarrassed. She was better than that. She had a job to do and she was better than that. She was a grown ass woman, and she could handle an attractive woman dancing in front of her for a few minutes.

But then the music started playing. And Clarke forgot how to think. If Lincoln left her speechless, then Lexa… Lexa left her nearly catatonic.

It wasn’t even that she was doing anything huge. She wasn’t exploding into leaps and jumps like Octavia had done, and she wasn’t effortlessly smooth and graceful and soft like Lincoln had been.

She was… her movements were hard. The song swelling behind her was filled with angst and heartbreak and betrayal, and Lexa’s movements echoed that. Her lines were beautiful. She held poses for long stretches, maximizing her extensions, making breaks in the music where Clarke hadn’t been expecting them. She sank into a split like it was the easiest thing in the world. She must have spent at least a third of her routine on the floor, but it didn’t feel… it wasn’t lazy or cheap, the way she did it, the way she rolled and spun. Her arms twisted, her body contorted, and every time she fell to the ground Clarke’s heart leapt in her throat at the thought that maybe she might have hurt herself, that surely this fall would be the one to do her in. But every moment of agony was scripted. Every intricate twist of her limbs was purposeful.

Clarke was mesmerized. With her hair, with the flow of her figure, with the anger behind her movements, with the way her fists clenched and her feet arched, with the way she seemed to reach and grasp for something she could never reach… she was riveted.

When she finally finished, curled into a tiny ball on the ground… when the music cut it was like Clarke was slowly awaking from some kind of foggy dream. A dream she didn’t want to end. She wanted to watch Lexa all day. She could have stayed here and watched her dance all day and never have noticed.

#wip challenge #ironbullsass #asks #my fics #clexa fanfic #a work in progress #long post #for those of you on mobile