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jwartblog · 4 years ago

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Notes comp...

My brain had suddenly not thought the same way it did, oxygen isn’t getting to it the way it had, blood doesn’t run through it the way it had, it feels like, to a degree, an implosion, not unlike the shift that happens with tectonic plates at the earth’s surface. This means now I can hear my vertebrae at the base of my skull and beneath, the skull cracks at the fissures as if a point of gravity like a warp is reshaping it. My decision making now is questionable, not criminally questionable, but the decisions I make veer off into peculiar themes, for instance, the whimsy of advertisements. The reactions to them are strong, which may be heightened by a coinciding isolation, all of which could be explained away as neuroses, as so much can be, but the integrity of the diagnosis that that could be is greatly compromised by intangibles. I surmise that this has intended to be, for one, a narcissists’ program, in which the language is designed to close off the possibility of social and cognitive maturation. It, instead, endlessly punishes reflection, reason, positive thinking to include any emotional flourishes of joy, exuberance, self-acceptance, an inclination towards the trajectory of all healthy development…It has, I believe destroyed–an embarrassingly easy remedy for all of this notwithstanding–the reward system, an internal resonance for clear thought and careful consideration–qualitative thinking. I can’t wrestle with concepts in the same way I have before. There was a more careful consideration that’s not there anymore, which means the work that I do could suffer for it. The brain is an array of sorts or at least behaves that way, a receiver of input, often vastly ego-centric, easily, near-instantly at the mercy of impulse, which has never quite been that way in adulthood, the way it is now. The formulation of words, increasingly what I would like to articulate comes from an alien place, not that what’s alien has the facility to manage words and construct documents the way I do, but it isn’t concerned with the same things I’m concerned with. What this means is the concern I have for, for example, certain social or creative issues is nearly bankrupt, which means the history of careful, qualitative reasoning and feeling towards those subjects seems gone. This means that that has to be cultivated again, because it necessarily has to be, but it also means a new apprehensiveness towards the retention of new information. Again, a weakening of the faculties, a constructed impairment. This brain, now, acts not unlike a computer server, as if somehow, the neurons were network nodes (not nodes of Ranvier), and all of the sensory duties of the imagining brain were outsourced to a remote terminal. This means, for example, a thought is met with, incorrectly, insufficiently, a thought meant to be thought, perhaps–because functional-integrity is compromised–genuine, is distorted or otherwise presented as if controlled by a foreign catalyst, a facility with thought, with concepts, i.e. design, creative flourishes are intercepted physically, cranially, as much as that can resonate physically, and it’s changed into something that I believe corresponds to what the intruder believes is how a person thinks or means to think. This means that a premium, ironic, considering the possibility that this is of a technological source, is placed on control, not at all on the preservation of thought, or the possibility for general thinking, let alone advanced thought. Whenever an attempt is made to achieve a state of lucidity about the current circumstances, a punishment ensues in the form of blackmail, again social mutilation (anti-social behavior) or some other accusation of criminality or gross immorality. This may be the longest instance of sexual harassment I know in recorded history, as my penis is critiqued multiple times an hour, from flaccid to erect state. It abhors erection, like it’s alien or criminal. All of it is finessed to some degree by an ambiguity, in this case humor amongst other things, the use of interpersonal acrobatics, the continuous promise of a later reward. For instance, one of the things that happens, and this plays off of an already-intrusive guerilla marketing, data-mine marketing (likely a cover for pure harassment), is the establishment of a visual language that always to some degree points to something being advertised, a product you might potentially buy, which on its face is innocuous. But upon closer inspection, it does seem to gain accuracy with each attempt at subverting the feeling of even casual autonomy, any sense of self that comes from personal decision making. What this means is that over time a kind of probabilistic thinking ensues as a reaction to constant probability based harassment(e.g. Probabilistic Psycho-Linguistic Verisimilitude and Infinitesimal Approximations of Neuro-Physiological Reception in Experience Perception. Memory-Thought modulation analysis in the conversion of external stimuli into creative thought and output, partly through continuous tracking of parallel experiential or verisimilarly stimulated brains of a large population sample, and reward system increasingly tailored to positive correlative confirmation signs. Behavioral analysis through the continuous introduction of external and internal stimuli and continuous tracking of subsequent associated epistemological formulations especially in regards to the subsequent introduction of symbolically-associated stimuli, stimuli congruent with particular, personal, accurate or inaccurate epistemological assumptions.). This has the potential to render the target overtly spatially and socially strategic…which can cause irrevocable overt symbolic-interactionism brought on by among other things, helplessness: the methods of harassment are slight and mimic the symptoms of still socially-maligned mental illnesses such as schizophrenia. If you can imagine, an artist, especially one adept at symbols, abstract representation, is made to feel that he or she is responding to what vaguely seems like a phallic or feminine image, and he is, for example, then made to know that he or she is somehow influenced by that prompt to purchase which confirms his or her latent homosexuality, over time this admonishment, necessarily slight, acts as a kind of whip, to which an artist necessarily would respond to with a re-habitual sort of inclination towards the object he wishes to avoid, however ambivalent he might be. Over time the whip makes the artist, like Pavlov’s oft mentioned canines, salivate at the ‘sound of a bell,’ i.e. whip. This kind of harassment I think maybe tends to coincide with what would be a delicate time for an artist, or anybody, especially an inwardly focused artist or person, transgression bound, piqued by curious psychological phenomena, bouts of clairvoyance, synchronistic peculiarities, a lot to navigate through without the addition of systematic, injurious harassment. If for instance it can be said that a person who constructs by some act of fate, his own clairvoyance, a streak of running into exactly what’s foreshadowed as a relational need or otherwise a break from an ideal state, is monitored by someone from an objective point of view who has knowledge of human behavior and the journey of humans, artists, he could potentially be subject to this knowledge, general knowledge, the artists’ knowledge, what the monitor knows the artist knows, what he knows many don’t know about these phenomena, the limits of their efforts to remedy the issue, to include among other things what would be professionally or socially unhygienic to pursue, and particular knowledge of marketing or other forms of harassment to cause irrevocable psychological damage. It keeps a record like a fingerprint for every instant of short and long term audio memory, neuro-instantaneous-configuration, and also manipulation at the cochlear nerves, perhaps induced neuron degradation aided by an overly nitrogen-rich diet that allows sounds to be affected. Either neuron or nerve frequencies are altered to match incoming frequencies, pressure disturbances that create sound. That means that as fast as the speed of sound, an incoming signal is intercepted before a conscious sensation of hearing can be registered. Also communication from preparatory (internal) speech center can be altered to fit incoming signal, or to conform incoming signal to preparatory (internal) speech (i.e. Attempts to further resolve name to voice, signal to name, voice/signal to image...performs as if it may not have specific local knowledge of content, but effects of it, how a datum associates with another datum (e.g. what regional voice and statement placates, even if the value of a statement or effect is unknown--how that's measured, how it's configured, what it means against other data, for instance, if a communal-neuro-topographical map worked with all measurable phenomena associated with brain activity), a relational database, e.g. what might correlate neuro-physiologically to what’s known through data-mining (what an image might sound like, what an algorithm for what an image is like, what a person thinks an image correlates to, would attempt to resolve if it had to ascertain the locus of significance in service of connecting data-processing-of-ephemera to verisimilitude in external thought processing, increasingly how an algorithm could think for you, could be used to subvert reasoned conclusions, to make empirical inquiry or research, entertainment, compromise trusted academic sources for instance by playing to statistically known impulses instead of supplying objective findings, papers, objective search results.) Points to what I had written earlier though about conquest through earnest action and exploitation of assumed unknowns. Audio converted in real-time to legible probable English (what the word most certainly will be at the start of pronunciation) audio interpretation is augmented by visual symbol confirmation, i. e. when audio fails, or when audio may certainly fail to be adequately echoed. Appears to analyze cord vibration state, speech initiation, and compares that against a database and predicts usage in tandem with image analysis, which could be gathered from a databank of images (Bing "like" image search) and image/word-concept association. The process of instantaneous ranking, a number assigned to every possible word outcome given an initial vocal cord vibration state, or speech initiation state, say 200 words starting with 'Bal...' (Ball, balcony, ballerina, balances, etc.). The words are then ranked based on probability which can begathered from historical usage and altered by the microsecond, nanosecond, etc., as the vibration, speech initiation, word formulation further produces a word outcome, until the dwindles to one word, or the listener is trained to hear one word out of possible multiple words, the most probable word given priority amplification. This code can be improved ad infinitum, based on linguistic, probabilistic, psychological, and environmental factors. A listener, possibly an operator on duty somewhere might correct machine code (?) as he notices errors in operation). Sound retrieved from temporary or long term audio memory, as well as the preparatory audio center is manipulated (enhanced or otherwise, modulated, withheld or diminished to produce effect.). Semantics, kinesiology and ephemera analysis, computational linguistics, linguistics itself, sonar, lip reading, etc. coupled with near-real-time incoming quantitative and qualitative data stream can all be used to induce the feeling of a second presence, a second set of eyes with you, and this is--if we were to assume that the data stream is coming from a witting or unwitting transmitter; perhaps an surreptitious or agreed upon installation of a transceiver on the person of the subject--without including the possibility for manipulation of the central nervous system, the frequency that governs or instructs, for instance, heart palpations, the perception of touch. A person could be outright impaired in various ways directly, or indirectly by, for example, stress, what are known as pain-points, if a cue were abusive, as in Pavlov's experiments with dogs, if a known involuntary, or voluntary made near-involuntary by conditioning were triggered to induce, for instance, a fetal-position defensive reaction. Where perception-valleys are present, neuro-experiential displacement is allowed to flourish, that means that with the aid of 'in,' a provincial cue, regionalism in terms of perceptual-familiarity, a person could be lulled into one form of intelligence, say the idea that a person is highly efficient at guessing various truths about your condition based on incoming data, but when the observers' analytical peak reaches a crescendo, possibly employing the infinitesimal, in terms of what can be gleaned, and as this contrasts knowledge of, a comfort level with previous analysis-attempts, a person could incorrectly conclude the 'real' presence of another entity. Audio-psychology, or other physio-neuro sensations can be used to create stories, especially if the belief-quotient of the participant/study/victom is high. Most people are not self-critical down to their neuro makeup, the particular universe of their mind and brain. Perception valleys, but for now, in as much as what's known about what it could know shows change modulated by location and some activity, for instance, a steady increase in rate of accuracy, or due to the fallibility of the senses generally but a known unreliability made increasingly more unreliable by sense-degradation, perception itself of this rate of change has to be called into question, as well as a perception valley, not only instances of impressions of what's known, but also for rates of change. While it can certainly be gleaned that some things are known (that had been, for instance, known to be unknown, in some cases unknowable particularly) and gleaned that some things are being increasingly known, there's still what's already known which is (x, unknown in quantity, quality, thus 0 to infinite, bad to extensive), and what's is increasingly being known that can't be known, that's changing at a rate that's congruent with known rates of change or not. Simultaneously, with that system there's a presentation of it, altruistically perhaps seeks partly, which may itself be a function of an outcome (to disinform, socially engineer some degree of.(cont.)..some degree of ambivalence, a familiarity with a signal presence to undercut the severity of what's being performed, to provide the illusion of a bevy of expected mercies, plethora of cognitive biases such as religious assurance by way of affiliation, assurance based on regionalism, etc. Mentalist tricks, and tricks such as game participation, match-maker, religion-based such as relieving you of talents buried, muscles not adequately used, which can lead to further illogical trains of thought.) to steer thought away from accurately assessing the scenario in general, the general nature of the problem, the specific nature of aspects of the physical problem, to attain a specific and/or general end through whatever can be suggested, including, as stated before, involuntary or near-involuntary responses to audible stimuli, which can provide new data. Other intrusive-(faux) inner-directed sensory cues can function in the same capacity. What's problematic, obvious, but needs to be made plain is that if more is known than prepared for or conceived, than more can be known based on responses to what's assumed to be known, for instance if internal functions of a subject are known, but the subject doesn't know that this is known, he will perform defense maneuvers internally, assuming that he is protecting something unknown. The information gathered from what’s newly known, now that along with internal functions known, the subject has unknowably provided, internal defense maneuvers, can be used to subdue another similar party or subject, or disarm the subject unawares, as they say, so that the subject's assumptions make him incapable of conceiving of a collapse externally orchestrated, thus attempting to solve an internal problem assuming an internal origin, not to mention, the peculiar conundrum that would arise if the subject knew what was known. Every response provides data, so nothing can be done, tactically, that wouldn't make worse the circumstances. If, what's known and had been known, for instance, is thought itself, an ability that would naturally need to be kept under-wraps, and along with thoughts known, thought processes, tendencies, probability, etc., now even a common sense response (silence, repose, a stalemate) is data, itself a maneuver. The continuum to some degree as much as feasible is the most appr. response. In terms of 'maneuvering' around this problem, what seems to me the most pragmatic approach is to, at the least, facilitate open communication (in qualitative proportions) relative to, or as a function of a rate of degradation of value certainties such as primarily the lived life, as much as valued the vital organs, the sustainment of societal functions. I.e. What can't be openly stated that needs to be has to be increasingly openly stated in measures where the positive difference (what's preserved) between what's stated and what's prevented by openly stating is optimal. In what can possibly take place, voluntary or involuntary reaction to perception valley nadirs (closest to truth, gravity), actual knowns could make more real unknowns, exacerbate the perception of a truth, accuracy in reflected/echoed truth, i.e. a known thought known could make more real the perception of a thought known, causing a relinquishing of a hold, a defense due to that assumption, that something is definitely known, or a certain capability of knowing is certainly known. Or in not knowing a thought is known, a knowing center is known, a person could activate defenses that become newly known data, available to disarm. The knowing that's synthetic, that means to make real a data-mined synopsis of a history and now, as much as real-time reporting and application can be that, has approximated the sensation of knowing, as I've said before, so the physiological indication of what it means to have thought, or applying a thought, especially to some external prompt--itself made to seem internally orchestrated, yet an outside prompt, the idea that some other entity, at least the way I would dream of it, is supplying a question that requires an answer, an answer I'm willing to readily give: the neuro-physiological sensation that I am, in a semi-conscious state, the recipient of a question asked of me by someone not me, the idea that it has to be answered, and that the options available, the memory or knowledge bank known is what's actually there, and all that's there, the idea and correlating sensation that that answer is the right one, that I have thought that thought, the desire to interact, that the voice supplied is of the image it's associated with, and that the subject would communicate in this way as a matter of fact, the rendering of the image to, beyond the fact of it's value--how well it's rendered, which is desired to fall into a valley of non-consideration, a given too well constructed to be fully-appreciated in a way that allows for effect-reception to subside and reasonableness to return tide and sufficiently critique--supply an increasing nudge towards what would be still not be a too unreasonable delusion of grandeur--of the grandiosity in each behavior of mine, as it's perceived, or some major failing of sense, that the elements of unconsciousness and visualization that would have to exist to make that point clear are what's actually there, and that that point made is one most salient, like a vacuum, that renders null excess-not-instantaneously-anti-thesis to what it means to convey, to make self-evidently true, that this is more than enough for completion--the sense of it that can guide, though, as I've written many years ago, truth and completion are separate things; one seeks conclusion when truth is tedious, and conclusiveness seeks truth when it's methodology and intentions are dubious, are questionable, to dress expedience, the rhythm of being undeniably-seemingly right or smart-sounding. But writing this, too, in a lucid wakeful state is subject to question, as I've left a state verifiably not my subconscious, the striving moment to moment is compromised as well, the certainty of whether or not impetus is genuine, has been eroded, outside of what's objectively, perhaps statistically sound in the findings of a most-reliable scientifically verified and peer reviewed analysis, and there's evidence that impulse itself, moment to moment, is directed by inauthentic catalysts--intentionally and directly orchestrated by some external source. What it could mean to allude to is simulacrum, but that's a psychosis term publicly. It's connected to weaving varying stories together that have 'no rights whatsoever' to be linked! Speed is not truth, nor is public consensus, nor is the spectre of utter demoralization and humiliation. In these conditions it's certainly difficult to objectively and somehow artfully probe into the idea of creation that seeks creation, or always in preparation of some future ideal. This is me inundated in another consciousness. The reasoning is now foreign, too. It has been that way for some time, but there's less of an obvious differentiation between the way I would feel about certain topics, even in sleep state that's barely leaving unconsciousness. The only way to maintain a sense of objectivity now is largely because of the nature of the thoughts themselves. Partly the game that's played here is rewarding the subject, in this case, me, with a right to healthy sleep, external peace through a decent lack of debilitating continuous sexual harassment, emotional abuse, discreet sexual and psychological assault, if I don't fight against diminishing qualitative thinking, which is preserving my identity. The continuous narcissistic drone that induces unhealthily defensive immediately rectifying mindset (of course at the expense of longterm planning and almost all deep, carefully considered thought). For instance, it continues as if there's some known secret violent, or sexually deviant behavior performed that has to come to light, of course through this style of torture. What it actually seems to be more and more is a conditional crime pre-punishment, a future-looking consequence based on inductive reasoning--ideally the crime, that, when this discreet torment has been completed, will, by its nature, have proven all of the tortuous actions taken upon me, just. But I believe this is based on a hunch that's arisen from the belief in congruence of data from a particular surveillance, even more daunting if that surveillance was coupled with conditioning by persons who would seek this outcome, the justification for that kind of surveillance and discreet torment then. This information, however, doesn't prove the truth of any one act, only the perceived likelihood, perhaps in the court of public opinion, which isn't sufficient. The persuasion that's continuously transmitted is, in a semi-conscious state, even made to seem to be me at the gut of consciousness--i.e. what it would feel like, neuro-physiologically to think and know it's me thinking--slyly, disarmingly persuading someone else to follow a line of thought that's anti-thesis to what I'd most like to suggest, but it may actually fit in more with what would be congruent with the evidence that supports the truth of an instance of transgression, which is what's sought after. At this point, it's really only the fact that I don't think those things, that I don't consider that content and often thus(thereby) genuinely don't like it, that confirms for me, the foreignness of it. It does tend to resemble what's described by Foucalt in Madness and Civilization when he says that power itself takes this route regardless of the people who associate themselves with it, so that all persons in those positions that act as factors in this system behave as needed to support an outcome. In that book he describes three tactics the asylum-keepers use to sedate the subject, longterm*: silencing through ex-communication, through various means, ending regular social interaction; playing to, however belittling it is and beknownst it is to the subject, their idea of grandiosity, their belief of their superiority or deep importance, the delusion that they're a high-ranking official or royalty or a celebrity, whether or not they actually really feel that way, even if they only play along to someone else's suggestion; and the third escapes me, but it believe it has something to do with thwarting immediate goals. Fear is another tactic, or some kinds of trauma tantamount to what traumatic occurrence has caused an initial inhibition ( as flawed as that sounds), and the use of family-ties to persuade, to bring the subject to his right-mind, the definition of which is malleable as necessary like-wise, like what I had written earlier, to justify the tactics used, often what's sought is an ideal external to who the person actually is, an unchanged personality that's often only what it has to be to put loved-one's minds at ease...for instance a person could finish school and be considered insane because, for example, school is ‘unnatural’ for his ilk (by way of his new knowledge he's writes or speaks like he aims to escape himself, or belittle rather than enlighten--usually the case when there's class-transcendence, when the actual numbers for progress are lost on an insular community, the national goal of education, or how education actually relates to affluence or career success, or gives a country it's competitive edge--generally preferred-- regardless of provincial opinions about individual cases), so a community could be persuaded, by the nature of their conditioning, to right the wrong of his enlightenment, to prevent continual learning, to, as overtly illegal and unethical as it is, seal off any chance for further naturally-resulting intellectual development. The problem in 2020 is that the knowledge of these conditions and disorders are known and that increasingly that knowledge is used to mislead the unwitting or support defamation or serve as peripheral intangibles used to wrong someone, i.e. it's weaponized. So street level skullduggery graduates and with the science of thought, there is increasing certainty, less error, so that the chance for something like this, an objective document, is less and less reliable. This might not be a reliable document. There could be for instance a gradual move towards planned happenstance, that secures planned outcomes. I had mentioned the systematic prevention of enlightenment or discreet impairment of the brain as it might be used for, for instance, discrete maths, or quantum mechanics, so lineage, documented familial inclination towards higher-learning, may more and more be seen as insurance against this. Gradually I'm made to become more and more comfortable with a second presence in mind, who, before any guarantee of compensation or noticeable benefit implores me to 'get out' or 'go up' or do a myriad of things as if I can, at will, make those outcomes happen, or as if the fact of my being or maturation isn't in itself, right, or self-evidently wrong. What it feels like, as I've stated before is rape, a marathon of rape-marathons, that itself forcibly becomes a new norm, and I'm responsible for my own pain, guilty for being violated, guilty for being hurt or protesting the rape-marathon in any way at any given time, especially if that protest gives some semblance of respite. The idea is to simply have it stop: I would like it to stop, I have never known this to exist, It was never a reality to me, I don't want it, I have nothing to prove. I only have to become more intimate with what I'm most interested in, and this something I can do without any help. The goal is the extensive depletion of the brain, mind, and eventually everything else. The prize, I believe, is what would strike a person who might encounter me, what would constitute a strength, and so one might like to see me or someone, for example, lose their ability to think in the way they are accustomed to thinking, especially if it's unique or adequate, or proven. Reasons can be as malleable as they have to be, to be sure I don't pontificate or don't mull over problems in the same way. There's an urgency in disrupting creation or thought production that reminds me of poverty-stricken children battling for crumbs or pieces of food, a certain scarcity-mindedness, or zero-sum, end-game, stubbornness. The chief goal here would be sabotage for highly-personal ego-driven reasons, not reasonableness. I'm made to believe that I should make some arbitrary authority my authority where there is none, and one is certainly not wanted or needed. There are large amounts of external stimuli present around me under the guise of helping me think. What this means is a demeaning attempt to forcibly outsource responsibility, which I believe is to make me comfortable with encroachment, especially to reveal private information, even information it is illegal for me to knowingly reveal, illegal for someone to forcibly extract from me, or frame me for relinquishing. Even as thoughts or thinking can be approximated, specific thoughts are more and more echoed in media, but not as general foresight or the synchronicity-high that follows a break from the ideal, a relational dependency, what state of being and thinking would have to take place to make sufficient meaning, or the actual events as genuinely foreseen meaningful encounters, but something else, almost as if I can't think unless each thought is good enough( this bypasses the feat of controlling each thought to even close to that extent to begin with), which they can never be if they're subjectively assessed, and goodness itself has to be questioned here if thoughts are more and more produced (which they are) by some far less adequate (for what I do) external transmitter, as preposterous as this sounds, the fact that I would ever have to consider a second presence in mind as a police for any reason. *The third here was constant references to the past--the asylum keeper would find a way to have the subject ensnared in his own past, which they could always refer to, if they've been keeping good notes, and the subject would ideally keep searching for some answer not readily given--partly due to an unkempt or unreliable memory in tandem with continual subliminal and overt cues to stop actively thinking--but instigated by past psychologically unresolved occurrences that are constantly urgently alluded to, one by one, until a certainty is achieved that further sedates the subject. Non-empowering recollection. More and more, in the morning and at other times, like in Iowa, in the morning, a foreign personality takes over, in the same way a foreign laugh did then, a foreign consciousness, for instance what would be the way I would seem to go in a more generically paternalistic manner (and also paternalism or masculinity as brutishness, manliness as primitiveness), a voice less fluid, a word selection accounts for less nuance, which is even less refined than the initial incapacitation of the basal ganglia, other parts of the brain responsible for high level processing of concepts and a usual work-history-consistent manner of contemplation: what would work for flavors of contemplation, art-thinking for art-writing. More and more the spine is the outermost protruding part of skeleton behind me, the skull is continually pushed forward, the trapezoids are tightened and forced high along with my shoulders (to sit at the top of my torso not at the sides) and ass is coached to increasingly remain tucked under, the back is therefore elongated and bows outward like a bulldog where it approaches the neck(notes from earlier: There’s a constant incoming at a particular numerical rate, a transmission of the kind of stimuli that can’t be easily thwarted. One of the things this results in, or has occurred in this instance alongside it is an ever tightening of the muscles around the trapezius and upper latissimus dorsi, the sides and back of the neck. Quickly, it feels primitive, not in that a person who is muscular there is primitive, but that it feels like the option to deviate from that is increasingly gone. The top half of the skull increasingly sinks into the lower one, the eyes are forced close together than normal–it more and more resembles down syndrome. It feels like it, too. Due a lack of sleep, and again, continuous aggression the eyes are sort of recessed into darkened skin that sits inside the eye sockets. What I have now, what I use to make art is a kind of secondary vision, it’s a secondness of vision. That sense is merely accessing footage, which I translate by way of recollection of what an ideal visual encounter was like. Again, the skull takes primacy, the eyes are a happenstance of the skull. My teeth are slowly reaching the beginning stages of brittleness, which I’ve seen happen quickly almost unnaturally to people I know.), a layman's cognitive consonance is expected to result from daily nudging to escape yourself, to 'leave your head,' as if leaning forward, an animalistic lean is what would make a person more himself. The overall goal is to completely disrupt bodily coordination. What this means, partly, is a conscious operation of the body to replace what should be thought-work, contemplation for interests and work, and other activities. The faculties are increasingly disrupted. Increasingly, simultaneously aptitude is compromised and replaced, the rate of intellectual growth is slowed, the quality of it increasingly less valuable, originality is directly minimalized as a result, and wherewithal for self-propulsion is increasingly made voluntary. The base-work of easy recollection, long and short term reflection, sign-creation, visualization, is forcibly outsourced, and all of it to mock all thought-processing as a means, itself, the reality of that depletion, to distract from an initial crucial loss of deep-meaningful consideration gained over time, through encounters, close-study, long-term deep careful-contemplation of the best that can be thought, for itself, it's own sake and as a foundation for future application. The brain is continually attacked, continually made to be atrophied object, as stated before, increasingly cadaver-centric. The body carries a head, an near-dead extremity, not a center. I'm made to reach, to partly consider at least as a fleeting thought the idea of my brain, my body and mind being diminished to enhance another life, of course, a life that hasn't worked for that reward and who boastfully will not compensate me for that depletion. The game here, as stated before, is to make a person believe many people are hiding from an anonymous machine that doesn't know who I am, and only plays to a person's ego (therefore a shameful thing to admit to being bothered by), their idea that this machine is referring to them and not some collective. The ego is conflated with thinking itself, it means to make the case that thinking, especially high-level thinking, or the way an educated person normally would think about his world, is only meant to nurture the ego. There's a lull in the machine's operation for continued thought-work and contemplation, but this is only to create the illusion of an order within this terror, and one the subject should subscribe to, an authority, where it would be most troublesome to a power-monger to not have one, where there should be none, a whip for thought where no whip is needed, an eye and narcissistic cloud for each thought, even after a major collapse of the faculties, the urgent establishment of an authority where it would only worsen not improve work. For every thought, there's its counter-thought, but not the specifically tailored counter-thought I'd employ to help me gain and retain healthy objectivity. Another game that's repeated here is the idea of inevitable competition, and a naturally occurring inevitable authority over that for the quality of thought a person possesses, logic with every thought, which is not my goal, and not desirable to me. By it's sheer presence, the authority expects forfeiture of sovereignty, not its own death. All of this is not the same as the carefully-tailored thinking I or any person might develop over time, that I have developed over time, the specific way of dealing with people I've cultivated over time (both fallible but uniquely fallible), that's particular to me. This is an externally-orchestrated intrusion on internal space, that can easily be made to seem like an internally-originating mental breakdown. There's a narcissistic drone, that of course works against what it means to administrate over which is the worst of egotistic impulses, the most publicly despised by the most people, but this is accompanied by continuous manipulation of bodily sensations, neuro-physiology and even thought production. What this could easily appear to be to some unwitting person watching is a person struggling with undesirable impulses and characteristics, a person who needs professional help. For instance, if an external presence is forcibly coaching a person to think of murder, in tandem with manipulating the brain, mind and body to viscerally feel that impulse at gut level, that external presence, now internally situated, would taunt or shame a person for even thinking along those lines which would be especially difficult to manage for a person who clings to moral standards. This person witting could perform a myriad of exercises to regain equilibrium, perhaps include that in a daily routine, but a person unwitting could be tragically set back by this constant shaming, which could erode at their form, their freedom amid granted societal freedoms, inalienable rights, or slavery amid all of the resources available for assuring freedom. The shaming would exacerbate impulse, which could lead to impulse-fulfillment. It means to diminish all strengths and not as germaine to some lesson or attempt to target someone else, and it means to outsource all thinking, all facility with various functions, all of the faculties, that are healthy and in some cases above-average. Each day the ability to clearly speak is more and more compromised. My facility with language is increasingly minimalized. Word selection or word memory as needed to sufficiently convey exactly what pertinent is compromised. The ability to convey nuanced thought is diminished, as an echo of actual loss of nuanced thinking. I get the strange feeling that the voice I'm left with is that of someone who makes bold pronouncements, as if drunk in grandiosity, that I would be given over to, as I've said before, delusions of grandeur, however congruent they might be with my actual experiences--not as a celebrity or a politician. The main point is that whereas before I would simply focus on the concept to be conveyed and language-usage-facility was subordinated as needed, now, more and more, I have to be sure speech is accomplishable, and I have to prepare for unpredictable preparatory-thought-failures in regards to overall poignancy and particularly individual word usage to reduce uncertainty (to minimalize latent egregious misinterpretation), and so where it may seem to be the case that one would gain a noticeable benefit from relinquishing conceptual wherewithal in service of immediately detectable thus resonant linguistic dexterity, that soon gives way to another voice less refined (less directed) and perhaps therefore less resonant, or perhaps additionally to some other less easily detectable benefit, e.g. pure (quality) thought for pure (quality) experience, not that the two are always mutually exclusive (that one couldn't be the other). Part of this erosion, I think, has to do with the idea that reality, real-reality is only gained through eschewing internal order, a private order, especially one that allows for deep healthy careful contemplation, reflection and foresight--even if only with definite plans and timely responsibilities in mind. As if dreamscape was a reliable window to some truth, it's treated as if all of its admissible in some invisible court, but what's manipulatable is imagery, like I said before the way a newly wakeful state, a state just before pure consciousness can yield the crest of inhibition, what dreams address mostly abstractly, especially as deep as orchestrated externally based imagery can be planted or seeded by mentalist cues. More and more the deepest unconscious whimsy, what's uncontrolled, is made to bear externally orchestrated fruit, or what can persuade or suggest at the base level of thought, especially in as much as it subverts structural integrity. Even if by only a delay in the body's reaction to the brain's signals, physiological sensations that sometimes accompany dreams, not that that's in anyway whatsoever a punishable offense itself (for instance an erection at the sight of a necrophilia orgy, at bestiality or something worse), can be manipulated to train personal tastes, or supplant the bedrock on which one might stand to declare something from a rightful or righteous as well as a reasonable standpoint. This might not seem like much if it weren’t for the fact that it's accessible, and especially to an unwitting subject, it could seem to be omniscience through authority, which could turn noble but, perhaps albeit reluctantly, strict adherence to morality, a kind of torture. A person who wanted to fully assume authority over a person could use this to control behavior over time, especially in an environment where morality is a kind of currency, the feeling of it, the feeling of goodness, a person's sense of his own deep piousness, or the way it's perceived by others. This could be disrupted to sway other people or make some point to a subject about the limits of how he can feel about himself, or a point about what a subject ought to feel about himself, given what's 'apparent,' what’s 'obviously' known. Their aim is for me to be aware on their terms, to see my own particular trajectory, the awareness I've cultivated, the style of thinking I've developed, nearly the only way to be that would suffice for seeing me through to this point, as wrong in itself, without justification needed for that final judgement, that certain prosecution. I'm blacklisted. Again, freedom is taken from me at a crucial point in my life, and I can't get those years back. I'm attacked by a transmission that reads thoughts, and certainly does so. This is a weapon of war. It's masked as probability, but that's not what it is. It prevents me from starting a viable business, and it rids me of every worthwhile idea. I can't pray. I'm made to viscerally experience consenting to inferiority, or recognizing a superiority that's made to seem true-in-itself, that's above empirical inquiry. More and more each morning it's difficult to articulate what exactly is taking place as immediate recollection becomes weaker. The sensation of being a host for another presence, another consciousness becomes more and more visceral, as if, for instance, the way I could know, neuro-physiologically, what it means to be myself, to be me knowing, was overtaken each time I slept. This is something I only somewhat consciously detect when I wake up, and it's a realization that's increasingly forgettable, like a temporary bout of Alzheimer’s, as much as memory could be a mood, an aphasia for short term memory. I can't remember exactly what was said, but it involved me remembering a date and conveying that to someone, but now more than any other time, the date recounted, and all of the sensation of knowing was present, as much as a person could think to know something or arrive at a conclusion, work through a problem logically, the sensation of the way the mind functions when it rationalizes. A date was given by me to someone who asked for it, but the date given was different then what I could glean from another channel of communication which was also not generated by me, even with the way I know I present images in a dream, another channel, both foreign, presenting two problems. One problem is the problem of simulacrum, the idea that a problem exists to begin with, that the environment is mine, that there's a problem that's mine to remedy. The second problem is that there's one channel that isn't privy to the other, and is determining perhaps by probability what it must be like to receive a sort of para-communication and communicate back, but failing at the transmission of specific data points. So, there could possibly be another channel of communication that's there subconsciously, the one induced by some outside coach, the subconscious machine code, one I don't consciously know, that's made to respond to this other unbeknownst to it, incoming channel with as much verisimilitude as possible, the way a person who has to parity check or verify a secure channel could read into what it has known about the way my neurophysiological behavior would correlate to a transmission. As much as it might seem to be exceptional to communicate in this way, especially for a truth that has to be weaved into a kind of persuasion, even when that means nothing at all, the correlation between the way something is said, the means of saying it and the truthfulness of it, I only get moments of possible relevance, that it's not all gibberish. Mostly, though, it's still persistent verbal assault that's optimized over time combined with a more and more accurate appraisal of my surroundings and physiological states, neurophysiological states, even thoughts, as images that are produced by me, made to be seen as I see the world (so perhaps an interception as a catcher's mitt back there for the way I see, as much as that can be thought or correlate to thought, but more and more it seems that the way this is known is by what could be gathered through large number analysis, the sample that a image-focused search engine would have to have, to...at one instance, say 'this image is like this one, so therefore this image might likely be this one,' especially the way this could work for facial recognition, and, on the other hand, the way words can correlate to imagery, so the often searched images as they correlate to words could coach AI machine code to know an image means this word, which it could stylistically, using a regional voice, say. There's also what correlates to image neuro-physiologically, that near-instantaneous and recordable state that can serve as one datum entry in a library, a relational database for image-text-neurophysiological correlation. This can be married with content recognition by an actual human observer, who by less and less of an imperative needs to coach the machine on what to know, especially for an increasingly large number conforming population, perhaps the erasure of inner-directedness, but certainly the reduction of micro-decisions, or at least the weight that each one of those might hold, the complexity of that with recollection, reminiscing, self-perception, self-awareness, and likewise all of the different types of awareness and sensations, especially in as much as that could disrupt the accuracy of large number assessments in an age where big-data is oil, where data is currency, and as much as that adherence to large number data, perhaps a cousin of the natural human tendency to conform to technology, as much as that reduces the likelihood for genuinely differentiate-able creation, the ability to work in that capacity, idea creation, and safeguard it, becomes increasingly valuable. So what seems to be playful in mind, the wackiness of preventing all of the myriad of ways a person could perceive the world or contemplate it, a steady stream of base-communication, only wide-eyed, exaggerated reactions, for one--that diminish sound outlook, that counters little moment-to-moment realizations, and sparks of self-perception or self-adulation, and past savoring, etc.--is not valuable in the sense of working with concepts, the elements of sensation to create ideas. Yes, as deplorable and disheartening as that sounds, there does exist work to dismantle thinking itself-to-demoralize, which is tragic for most professionals who actually need to contemplate to get work done. There are people with the means to demoralize people in that way--know what a person is thinking, which could mean something if it were a way to say something about the score between the two: the continuous encroachment on thought by the technological world and them, and use that to say the people’s thinking, which might largely make up who they are, is grossly redundant, thus useless--and if demoralization isn’t the goal, inherent illegality of this method notwithstanding, they might not appreciate why and how working through problems unaided, unhampered, with pinging faculties, often yields the raw substance of individual wherewithal (the numbers might point to documented aptitude, verifiable performance as more certain predictors of meaningful thought-work, but there’s evidence of crucial high-level innovation resulting from the later-perfected peculiar-mindedness of once-crude thinkers) which is important because it is infact so often the road enlightenment and inquiry takes, which civilization tends to trail. Considering that much more than what's obvious to me could be known by what's causing this, for at least image recognition, as I've said before, the way a search engine algorithm could link image to words or image to image, an arrangement, the means of detecting image production as it's received by my brain, how it would have to resonate physically, the elemental matter associated with it, and how that would have to correlate to at least what's analogous to an analog-to-digital way of having a non-human instrument interpret with increasing accuracy the actual content there, if we assume what's being felt, followed by what's seen is genuine, and not externally-originating orchestration ( assuming no manipulation based on raw data configuration, a coordinate assignment of each datum, the way that can be recorded and retrieved and over time correlate to meaning, health states, later behavior, entelechy, etc.). It's possible coordinates could be known within axis, a spatial verisimilitude in the way an thought would be orchestrated by a person, basically how a person would conventionally think, at least. If, for instance, it could know the way sensation, the way the brain reacts correlates to a type of image, e.g. a face, within that category, it could reference a library of images that are categorized based on tendencies in appearance that would better ascertain content, so only as much as facial features lead to more certainty are they categorized, in this case, the certainty of what correlates to thought, the way thought could be known with increasing accuracy. So what takes place is prompt in the form of a playful improv on image production awaits confirmation in the form of 'yes' or 'no,' the behaviors that fall under those categories, to know what seemingly ambivalent behavior is ultimately revealing, the way Charles Pierce (W. James?) posits there is no lie. Once the confirmation is received it becomes a brick stacked in service of certainty, the later improvs are more accurate, executed with confidence, for instance an animated image after once thought as static when probability is above perhaps 95%. It could be that in some cases only temporal disposition is known as it's associated with image after an image is thought, a one-off image produced and then externally manipulated, the following thoughts as much as disposition points to this, are perceived to be likely to follow the same pattern, so another face could be perceived by the machine, but in not knowing who the face is immediately or having in that following instance the capability to 'recognize' the type of face, it prioritizes a moment of possible continued follow-on manipulation with an animation like before, one that correlates to an old man, as opposed to say a cheerleader. There are supposedly recorded occurrences of ESP, phenomena, or technology that transfer another person's mind into another person, that would allow for a kind of symbiosis that could carry out this flavor of mischief. In the quanta-age, the one that follows this one, the data-age, it might be said that nothing could be known to be truly debunkable without knowing that, the entirety of circumstances, even though we know in theory one realm, the subatomic doesn't significantly disturb the other, 'reality' as such. If this is all quanta-sized, all physical matter as quantity, then it's possible that all that could be known, quantified, would adhere to principles of probability in as much as an understanding of the movement of gas, vapors, could be optimized, I mean, the way that led to this, to what would seem to be todays understanding of the way subatomic particles work. This could know in exponentially large magnitudes, all of the varieties of living, all of the scenarios a person might encounter that would re-introduce agency, only eluded by infinity, which I've stated before is problematic because of what it suggests, that there is a world so much like our own, that it has to be us (if this were not the case, then according to what infinite entails, then an Earth or a 'me' exactly the way I am now that would have to stop just shy at whatever difference would have to exist to make it not me, would negate the idea that this is not in some way finite, there would have to be an infinite just like infinite minus the smallest possible liminal quantity it takes to make this possible, a physical quantity that both exists and doesn't exist, exists and doesn't exist only as a function of this system--that there has to exist an exact duplicate of infinite or more within all of the nearly-identical copies of it, which would still not define existence as finite, the way that infinite would seem to need to be the case from a linear causal standpoint (Ephesians in the Bible, for instance, says men are not wont to reconcile a beginning and an end of existence), a particle would have to be 'newness,' enough to differentiate one infinity from the other but not enough to mean the two aren't the same, exist as what's not to be copied but also does not exist, the universe in how it functions would have to be always in the process of becoming itself, like a rising yeast as it's cooked, as experienced by someone who could only experience that in increments, like an electron that travels along a copper wire, not an external view of all states imaginable, every possible outcome, perhaps the way it actually is, the way we view a copper wire as opposed to the way an electron does.). There's an assumption that an externally originating transmission wouldn't know to work with a person's sensitive understanding of the way he communicates intimately with other people and to himself to arrive at a desired conclusion, so one would first have to assume in this case an alien-to-self-entelechy that understands this, that would have this understanding to do this, to cause mischief, or that an entity would know this is the path of least resistance, with no value intuition, not even finely tuned, only using knowledge of perhaps neuronal configuration, each one like a fingerprint instantaneously and what that tends to correlate to. There are simple filters for processing thinking that could cause large perceptual shifts just based on that, neuro-physiology, like a delay in thought, which I've stated above, an externally-based orchestration of the fundamental way a person thinks. Even now there’s more thought as murkiness in terms of recollection of what it's like to carry on with a line of thinking with the knowledge that what's thought is what intended to be thought or that a branch of thinking, what would follow what in terms of how I'd most like to state a truth, the easiness of stringing together words that would make a sentence that personally rings coherent, and more of smartly timed cues to suggest the inevitability of all of it, as if it was normal to think wrongly, as I've never thought before, like. for instance, it's a foregone conclusion that my mind is imminent domain; a voice cuts in with something that sounds like a intercom. The knowing center, especially objectivity as a base is continually compromised (one way you could approximate the gist of what's taking place, is if you could imagine this was of the utmost urgency, that for example, a person needed to know for certain that what I've made or some core part of me was exceedingly discreditable for sure, the way a person who has assumed his own superior rightfulness would have to save face for projecting onto an artwork for instance his own foibles and vices, hang ups and inhibitions). It could be that I'm being told something, but on the face I get nothing of definite value informationally but what would seem to be the goal for someone who needs to save face and can't do it, or is faced with the specter of it, a gradual depletion, everything that could be done in this span of time to creatively rewrite my conspicuous trajectory of making art for decades, having had made art for that amount of time and attending high school and college specifically for that. This is mostly taking place in the theatre of semi-consciousness, and it’s still performed as an ongoing court, which is problematic when this internal narration of external and internal meaning is epistemologically attuned, more and more knowing what it would take for me to believe or how it feels for me to know what I'd most like to reasonably think. By way of this, saliency is reduced. The feeling of knowing and thinking what I'd most like to think, and communicating that way is compromised. This saliency is difficult for me to achieve without sanctuary, an actual private or peaceful space in mind, a few minutes, within several years, of actual quiet, the actual guarantee of no added presence or accompanying voice, as well as--if at all recoverable--the feeling of knowing I'm alone in thought to contemplate what I'd most like to, through to completion, especially as much as it fits in with my artistic goals, through to satisfaction. As a side note, there's a tuft of muscle at the base of skull situated behind the ears that's increasingly bulky, and, as much as it's served as a barrier for it in the past notwithstanding, it does now, more and more, prevent the jaw from settling into an involuntary state, the mouth as it happens to a lot of us is overly worked, especially in those times that can last when I have to mouth what I'm meaning to say before I say it, to prevent egregious misspeaking or overly erroneous logic (In Strunk and White’s bestselling ‘Elements of Style,’ a book still in heavy use today, this is introduced as a technique to improve writing, so I’d imagine many millions of people still do this.), but I think this also has something to do this wakeful state, the continuous disruption of healthy sleep and this other thing, the entities we wrestle with, the externally-originating incoming that’s sent, as well as ourselves. The reaction animations are randomized and then made to seem significant. The follow-on statements are often directly proportional in emotional gravitas to the instantaneous belief response, the nearly-involuntary or involuntary one. An image of a known subject is shown, projected, and a follow-on animation is meant to indicate something permanent, some record of fact, like a how a person might deal with what's going on now (If you can imagine how much that could bring a subject into a state of comfort, the way Foucalt said that might occur after being treated in an asylum.), what's happening to me, symbolically, a gesture that's means more than what it is, which further inculcates a person in overly reading behavior as sign, to further eschew healthy selective awareness and selective observation. It's a basically magic 8-ball toy that becomes increasingly more apt over time, so that more and more the indications of randomness, the differences between how a person knows what’s believable as symbolically pertinent and what's orchestrated are diminished over time. This is exacerbated by external and internal cues to believe more, to contemplate less. The capacity for extended careful contemplation is reduced significantly within the first contact, and is almost lost completely a short time after that. It would think it would be nearly-impossible for the undereducated, underaged, disabled to be aware of what's taking place as it's happening. This is how a I imagine it would work: a list of options is run against a list of identifiers associated with each documented sensation. When one sensation registers, it's linked with an identifier, this sensation could be one of reflecting on someone of importance, possibly an influencer, a sub-identifier or subset of identification code could link this to a internal sense cortex, such as a visualization. This sensation and this image is connected to a symbolic animation option such as a turned head for a portrait. What then exists is a record of this projected image and this follow on animation option. I think the other possibilities for follow on animation are subtracted save for what would be most antithetical to a person's values, how a person would most like to think, so that over time as the same sensation is produced with it's associated image, the chances for thinking any other way but a way that points to a follow-on animation is diminished, especially when all other ways lead directly to the most antithetical thought. With images there appears to be, like I said before, an initial identification of what can be gathered to be what's sensed visually, by what's actually seen, what's visible in the visualization cortex, and what can be determined via datamining, especially if it's real-time data-mining or surveillance in general. In this instance there's what's identified based on image association, such as the way a code could determine what values and colors and facial features are displayed and what that's normally associated with...In this case, there's an association that might reveal that not much can be gleaned by listening other than perhaps sonic vibrations or a description that guides others, or what a person would like to think about the way this is working out, for instance, that a way of communication must always be kept in mind or enough to neutralize focus, the way a person would normally engage or go about doing whatever it is that he'd most like to do, especially if it's what has always been done. It seems to access pre-auditory cortex production of what would be sound to me, that's as much as possible not connected to cord vibration production of sound, so is able to reproduce, in a linguistic sense, what would constitute a phrase. It employs oralism to become increasingly adept at lip reading, so that an image's production of the appearance of a person talking is met with real-time congruence, i.e. speech that's naturally camouflaged with moving lips, with increasingly accurate English regionalism, so this points to an image capturer that is capable of processing many states or all possible states of speech production as it's seen by a person watching a person speak. The fact it might be more difficult to translate what would take place without having that vantage point, a frontal viewpoint as opposed to any other way makes me believe it's still in development. But what this also points to is an image capturer that works strictly with that, with say how a cord vibration might resonate visually on an RF spectrum analyzer or some other signal detector, the disturbance of a wave, the presence of a signal amongst noise and how that's altered to match specific points of speech production, such as what would correlate to an 'Ah' sound or a 'Juh' sound. I mentioned before about how a program could reference a dictionary of words associated with the evolution of cord vibration states, as the word develops, and that's optimized, the way high frequency trading works, so that for basketball, the first part of that word 'ba' would-open what would be the widest possible field for this word, words that start with 'ba,' and as that word's produced, following with 'sket' to produce 'basket,' the reference field becomes increasingly smaller, if you can imagine sand in a once top-heavy hour glass, this is the way it would work. So, by the time 'ball' is reached, the speed for correlating signal-to-word is near-instantaneous, or perhaps balancing as much as possible, offsetting what would seem to be a delay however slight at first recognizing and accurately matching visual-cue-to-word, so that by the time the image-to-word operation has been completed, all measurable perceptions, as much as possible, point to seamlessness. Of course, this all points to ominous possibilities for this kind of technology, like all readable sensations, as much as they can be detected, correlating to some kind of data, that's later compiled into information, sometimes information or just raw data that can be used to perform some task, sometimes made to be instantaneous reflex. So, as much as phenomena is data, this could be narrated as it occurs, or as much as narration understands the conditions for perception of phenomena and each correlating subsequent reaction, shortterm and longterm, actions taken by a subject can be predicted with increasing accuracy. And as much as this understanding--how legible information can be, and how intimate an actor can become with that information--can be used to act on a subject, discreet or overt actions taken upon a subject can be adjusted to produce a desired outcome. What seems to be the case with image recollection or if and when this is the case, an immediate foreshadowing of a action very soon to be taken, what seems to transpire is image production as much as possible is outsourced to this externally-originating orchestration, that means increasingly an impulse to reflect or foreshadow, is not coupled with an authentic near-involuntary produced image but an amalgam of an intended image and an externally-originating orchestrated one, or the externally-originating orchestrated one altogether. This could mean that as much as possible, as much as it achieves the perception of seamlessness, the absence of any sense of change in this basic function, images are instantaneously produced (the way that speed is perceived, what would constitute instantaneousness in a subject, i.e. as fast as thought, or usually how fast an image produced would respond to that associated impulse.), images and animation orchestrated by an externally-originating source are possibly synced with what would be the elements of that construction, and in the same way that words are detected by registering the evolution of cord vibration states, the evolution of thought as an image produced could be tracked then intercepted with a melded image--the butt end of a curtailed one, or entirely different image altogether. As much as movement can be determined by some close-read kinesiologically based prediction (that seems to work with a library of lifestyle and cultural content that would most likely correlate with temporal body states and sensations, like the changing consistency of surfaces and materials as they’re sensed, even if just the memories of those touches, what they mean in particular contexts, what a change in touch, the memory of one means for a narrative, the way that’s forcibly illustrated, and other sources of incoming data, like audio, etc.), an intended action, the one meant to be foreshadowed is displayed with increasing succinctness for both motion and image-accuracy, even if in the vein of mockery--possibly, decreasingly, a cover for a lack of actual capability in response time, rendering, animating, and the certainty of a lasting impression of seamlessness, that the thought produced is my own, tricking me into believing that the thought-work it takes to visually conceptualize has been minimized (...an increasingly apt seduction into weakening that natural but also painstakingly-strengthened capability) . As far as the evolution of cord vibration states goes, it seems this capability works best when the subject is at a standstill, when positioning is ideal. This could mean this capability reverts back to conservative operation if it has been predicting the outcome of a future statement based on a prompt for a response, the probability of an action most likely to take place, based on data already collected, and positioning is no longer ideal, especially when a body is in motion. This means adjustments for the evolution of cord vibration states are conditional, i.e. what would likely, first, be word production detection, followed by the identification of which word would most likely follow. Over time, a library of phrases might be compiled and referenced based on circumstantial context along with neuro-physiological states, physiological states, and this would be insured with conditional word production, as each word further confirms the likelihood that a particular statement will be made i.e. sounding based on the evolution of cord vibration states and the data associated with it, the statistical likelihood that a word will be produced based on incoming data. When a subject is in motion and cord vibration states are difficult to detect and thus predict, this system seems to err on the side of a continual second presence, a continuum in the mind and ear of the subject, so that it attempts to match a predicted phrase, vice a repeated one, to the subjects internally-originating phrase, based on the data it has available: first, the most likely phrase to be produced based on circumstantial context--externally-originating stimuli, or an externally-originating prompt for a response, followed by the insurance of this, what would most likely further reduce ambiguity, the decreasing likelihood that this phrase won't be produced, based on the evolution of cord vibration states. But when detection fails, when it's most likely to occur--when a subject is in motion, when there's attenuation, a power outage, etc.--it is possible for an externally-originating near-real time veri-simulation of a subject's speech production to differ from an internally-originating phrase produced by that subject, especially as a subject varies word selection within adhering to the likelihood that a particular phrase will be produced, i.e. beginning a phrase with words that fit that likelihood. It's possible that what could be identified as pre-auditory speech, or what neuro-physiologically would constitute audible thought can be repeated back near-instantaneously, or with what the most statistically and linguistically sound response would be, that would work in the context of what the nature of a given phrase would most likely be. The likelihood a repeated phrase is fit might be increased over time through involuntary physiological confirmation, so as much as possible, especially with modulation and repeater delays, an increase in seamlessness, a diminishing perception that a second presence is artificial. This is the same process used with internally-originating image production to counter all internal dialogue, peculiarity of thought, especially carefully considered contemplation. This morning was the furthest yet I had been semi-consciously another self. That means for as much as consciousness could be that without being that, I was thinking and speaking in mind as someone else, a commentary that's fluid even though it's incongruent with what I'd most likely think and what I'd most like to think. So, before and after that state was the experience of, as much as I can pinpoint, me as I should be, but in between those times was an action as much as it can be that at rest, in a semi-conscious state that was not originated by me. There's still no way to tell if more can be done to curtail wherewithal within me, any remnant of any genuine agency. Even after that, was a snack of a meal, a bowl of cereal, eaten with the facial muscle-memory of another, like another person altogether minus a consciousness that follows a tendency to reason in a certain style, the way I'd usually like to ascertain things. And furthermore on the previous day, while even approximating these unusual occurrences, the mind went the way it would sometimes do in the past--but for past reasons, hinder even the basic work of reason, documenting observations, and sufficiently capturing the function of this encroachment. Thought those notes might seem to be the same as always, yesterday, they were a laborious chore, like building a wall. More and more the mind is bludgeoned with unwavering abuse, like I said before, everything that would diminish strength, or work against anything that has always worked in my favor. I haven't been alone in mind for some time now. I haven't prayed or reflected alone now for some time. I haven't read a book alone for a while, for at least a few years. I’ve been unemployed for over ten years. There's no way to convey to the people around me that this is unnatural. They seem to succumb to what might be a kind of universal spectre of shame for me, for some reason, that at every turn, at every point of rightful repulsion at this continual violation, even at the bud of impulse, I might be forced to reveal, to the chagrin of loved ones or the most highly-respected and treasured keepers of our collective becoming selves, with their looming non-budging judgement, a deviance that would mar my name with what my obituary would most likely have to avoid alluding to, or some other reason, a communal goading at the interpersonal level of interaction or perhaps an amalgam of little concessions of inferiority, that a man should be bludgeoned just cause, just because of what's obvious, some evidence that would be sure to emerge, even if only in the mind of everyone that that needs to be in mind of, what would have to make-sense to make that case, to avoid the socially unhygienic prospect of declaring someone is being wronged by a lot of people, that a lot of people are wrong, even a lot of people we like or love. This could be happening to them, too, the people around me I'd like to convey this to. Though I might not be able to accurately determine to what degree in the past or the immediate past when I was addressing a particular object in way that would betray infact what was before me, it seems that it's possible for this to be known to an outside observer, but to an observer who would have a difficult time making that final determination as to what, given a 1:2 chance of guessing correctly, I was referring to infact. It would seem that as much as this is compromised--the degree to which I could correctly make a determination involuntarily or other wise, nearly such, about the fact of what I was observing--an outside onlooker reading that language--the kinesiology of me, the neuro-physiology of me--might need a level of certainty above, say, 60% or more for a true or false supposition. What would seem to take place is that given the uncertainty of that sensation in regards to how it might correlate to the truth, this outside observer might err on the side of verbal confirmation, especially if that confirmation has historically meant the strongest likelihood of truth. So, what could happen is that when multiple modes of communication are collected and interpreted, priority is given to one mode of communication over the other ( e.g. instead of the two taken in tandem and given the same weight of pertinence) when the accuracy of either is subpar, when the two contradict each other, or they convey different types of information. And because, like I said before, the program seems to stick with a continuum, a continuous second presence, no matter what, a error can last, I believe, until new data prompts an information review that changes that. But even in this case when new data is available, the program might empty something that would seem logical, soundly tactical like two follow-on actions that cover the possibility for both outcomes a true and a false. What may be happening is the program is at times assuming a non-human subject when this happens, or a poorly coded definition of what would constitute a human subject, and so assumes nothing will seem amiss when a subject would naturally seek experiential consonance, but only if the outside actor is aiming for seamlessness and not necessarily-detectable-mischief. Whereas before what had only seemed to be conditional response to the evolution of cord vibration states is now a direct response to thought content as it's communicated in the pre-auditory cortex (preparatory speech or dialogue connected to conceptualization), the suppression of all sensation of saliency, the healthy operation of the brain and mind, or what thought-work is like when it's in an optimal state, the neuro-physiology of it. The goal here would seem to be the inner most point at which thought resonates. The problem this outside actor seems to have is a problem of ownership of the thinking process itself (not a particular one), a personal intellectual pursuit, the inner-most sensational highs of empirical delight, meaningful reflection, the maturation of creative thinking, and the extreme clarity and succinctness that I've known, at times, when I reason, as crazy as that sounds. It continues to communicate that it's wrong for me to think, or that thinking especially as it goes for my ethnicity (or social-economic status) in this country--which is interesting considering my ancestors and all of the work that has gone into silencing their intellectual voice, or breeding out intellectual wherewithal--is not a native past-time, and so this is hate crime. Now that it has snuffed out privacy to the furthest extent yet, it communicates that all empirical inquiry is useless for me, and for that matter it seems to want all of existence to be viewed as only a material conquest, where, of course, I only take instruction, grateful to be paid. Seems like: Something that behaves as a transceiver in me, that's solar powered, that receives code that runs elsif statements that increasingly respond to the entirety of physiology of the infinitesimal, and it varies the degree to which it reveals this to me. Some code is stored and run in a simpler state, a local code in me, when not in receipt of a transmission, which is revealed when I am out of the way of transmission, e.g. when underground, going through a tunnel, in an underground aquarium, on a high-speed rail or subway train, and sometimes on a plane. It sometimes goes away completely during a storm or heavy overcast, or it’s attenuated, disrupted, as if an incoming stream of data they receive that’s continually interpolated, continually made informational is now unreadable. This happens with power outages as well, black and brown outs, which makes me think about electromagnetic emissions. Whatever new behavior I perform that's not readily documented by a reverse transmission, e.g. behavior underground, is interpolated through probability and 'question and answer' confirmation sequences in the form of sensual cues and my para-responses, nearly involuntary or exactly that. Uses timing of bodily functions to predict moments of significance, how a mind might still make folk-sense out of physiological changes, to disrupt sense, experiential-traction for later or instantaneous use in reasoning, by, for instance, modulating the natural sound a digestive system might make, a stomach growling, to mimic actual bestial groaning, a sound that's congruent with what we'd might like reason those organs could make in the realm of possibility. Continually exacerbates anterior-stance defensive mindedness by increasingly more succinct suggestive and incisive verbal or image cues, that might advertise or blend well within sensed stimuli, or are cued based on newly data-rich information, whose goal is to sever all internal and external ideas of social cohesiveness that includes me, a cohesiveness that continues, that's a reality outside of the reality I actively know. This could possibly be happening while an actual external social program is in place to exile me, to ex-communicate me, to actually sever those relationships, or the inverse, to strengthen them, possibly by a means made to seem to be working against that goal, to me. (elusive gap in communication, i.e. a kind of blackmail, that can't be known to me, due to the gravity of a deed, the perceived reality of it, as much as the crux of believability could be known, more than what's normal for above-average thinkers, e.g. if it could be known that knowing stomach groan would be reasoned to be a gut-knowing, that because that's the locus, that's the truest in the same way the most expensive, creative, or heartfelt mode of communication could be assumed to be the most truthful or true at all.) Whatever physiological mechanics takes place that causes that reaction, the chemical way, for instance, that could happen, could be induced as much as that could be a dopamine high, a reward for that gesture...If the signals the brain receives through the nerves that tells it how the body is feeling could be intercepted and modulated, then a number of physiological tales that exploit the folk-sense knowing bodily functions could be told to create an alternate physiological reality, also as much as nerves control bodily functions, this could be used to actually harm the body. It seems to have been used that way for me and is still being used that way, so I'm a victim of assault, a crime that's still happening...The code would have to be deployed with a large data spatial sample of cranial space and how sound heard tends to resonate, and once implemented, a spatial-tuning through a 'question-and-answer' confirmation sequence and thus more accurate sonic verisimilitude--what a sound is like as it's heard by a subject. As I've stated before, if the cochlear nerve frequencies could be modulated before they reach conscious listening, if the pre-auditory cortex, the signal that that generates, could be used to modulate incoming sound, the cochlear nerve frequencies, and if the sound that's stored in long term memory could be modulated, all of that could be used to further manipulate perception or a folk-sense of bodily functions, especially neuro-physiology.. Worst case scenario: various auto-code a.i. machine code intelligences, each one coaching the less sophisticated one it subordinates, perhaps increasingly less coached at the apex by a human who never gets worse at understanding what he knows about machine code, but can glean what a subject knows in general by how a subject manages this conundrum, and he can work to know more of what that person knows and surpass that, of course. As this process degrades the intelligence of the subject, the machine code is more perceived to be close to the subject, to be an entity, and so thus the problem of perhaps returning to a state of intellectual equilibrium or to the convincing ambivalence that accompanies objective observation becomes more difficult as time goes by and the process takes its natural course, especially if the cue of reasoned natural (regional or professional ) speech that was once initially associated with quietude and emotional unavailability in this program is compromised or that what was once recognized as that reasonable state is only that relative to this adjusted sense of departure from reason, and the head coach is becoming more and more reasoned to the same degree that the subject is becoming subdued. Also, if an incoming signal created a mild disturbance in continuous magnetic resonance detection for that particular path, for instance, the eyes to the occipital lobe, at a very small magnitude of detection, it might be possible to translate the difference between a sample signal's path-traveled signature, and the current signal's path-traveled signature, (at a given frequency, each wave sent) and predict with increasing accuracy what the source transmission must be like for the current signal, based on what's known about the sample signal's correlation to past inferred source transmissions--If an instance of disturbance at an extremely small magnitude, what a wave does to continuous MRI, is known to correlate to a particular light or color value in instantaneous optic reception, based on large number samples. If this process could be streamlined and recorded and monitored in real-time or near real-time (as an animation, multiple facsimiles of the inferred source transmission, one after the other at a desired speed), a person who is knowledgeable in visual language could approximate with increasing accuracy--as the process becomes increasingly more streamlined, as the number of verified samples increases, and MRI becomes increasingly more accurate (or whatever medium of detection serves as a foundation upon which to compare samples)--what the content of the source transmission is, i.e. what the subject is probably sensing, e.g. looking at, or hearing, etc. That info, in as much as it could be handled could be used to, for instance, along with modeling inference, influence an unwitting subject, or help correct discreet issues with sense organs, or artificially enhance them. There was a stock, Shopify that increased many folds, %300 or more, over an initial $100+ asking price at nearly the same time I touched down in Hong Kong and experienced a sonic-psychological bludgeoning that continues now. That's not unprecedented but its abnormal. I bring that up because the market is supposed to operate with an invisible hand, if we exclude the possibility of front-end manipulation of website data, so those numbers at least correlate with the timing of that event, i.e. if all targets if more than me were inner-directed people, a prize amongst marketers, then that data, whatever finality that would mean, could be sold or used make more accurate market predictions. If it's just for me which it seems to be at times, then whatever data about me that has already been collected is used as a basis for new incoming data to form a complete picture. This is ongoing thought collection, not just naturally occurring communication that someone is listening in on. Where one repeater stops another repeater that works with probability picks up where the first one left off, especially after a wordy sequence that can't be reasonably believed to be replicated (made up words, etc.) that fast, so a signal that sends back what's transmitted stops and another repeater finishes. This is done to complete the illusion of a smartly listening ear surveilling, whether or not one is actually there. I think this is the script: demoralization that doesn't look like desperation or a kind of terrorism. To make infer intention, or pursue desire based only on discreet cues, nothing concrete, but no desire fulfillment or return to objectivity. To compromise structural integrity through a combination of denial and command. It's difficult to achieve this if the subject doesn't recognize an authority where there is none. This means if, for example, a game is being played, a person can forever elect not to play, but by playing or even recognizing gameplay as an option he renders himself subject. One game is to have a person believe he's avoiding becoming a sociopath, while goading him into placing the highest the importance on what a group of his friends and family thinks, so to give up considering social norms and consequences for the often arbitrary customs and consequences of another social group. One way to gain authority is to brute force voluntary assistance, so that if there is an ambiguity around the truth of some possible moral deviance, 'help' in the form of a convenient distraction is provided, especially when the goal is to simultaneously cover up some horrific wrongdoing and further condition a subject to think he's a bad person, unworthy of inalienable rights, the fact of the subject's perceived silence, through communication failure, on this issue is used to suggest the inherent validity of the oppressors' claims. The brains functions are more and more outsourced in the vein of help, helping to think, the loss of functionality converted into new content or other ventures, but this really only leads to full knowledge of the inner-workings of the subject's mind. To reverse-engineer wherewithal, confidence, agency to correct it, as if it goes without saying it's a criminal act. Here, it's at least a social crime. What they do is constantly interrupt momentum through humiliation and other forms of immediate demoralization, which is deadly for people who need motivation to perform or improve. Every free impulse down to the neuron is made to seem to be connected to some bad outcome, or all personal interest is made to seem to be at the expense of community well-being. Learning a new discipline or skill, reading a book, a good one, and staying fit, are all punishable offenses. Grooming and caring for your appearance or some other self-care, healthy pride behavior is a punishable offense, met with an equal and opposite force every time. Every thought is critiqued and vigorously redressed, made to, at least, seem to be orchestrated by someone else, especially thought connected to personalized internet search, as I've said before, by an outside catalyst, almost as if there was a direct financial benefit to it, or some other party directed benefitted from this much suppression. Thinking is vigorously redressed as if thinking is a privilege that only some local central figure can enjoy. So in regards to what has been before, has always been since birth, but significantly diminished to a degree at some point, perhaps 2004, (when the wings went) was a way of working, particularly with what’s needed fundamentally to make the kind of work that has to be constructed of sorts, this has been replaced by--and this is the way lies work that are crafted with love--a new 'software,' as conveyed to me by what's transmitted, an update, so much more in the way of a hubbub visually around every thought that endeavors to create or carefully contemplate, as if a highly developed software could as much as possible, as creepy as that sounds, mimic human thought, genuine creative inquiry, especially of the kind that resonates inside visually, if you can imagine someone, some technologist, the way they drift off, like a reluctant virus, into their own staunch conclusions about what the humanities are worth. What it needs to do, to save the ego of that kind of architect, is to be sure that this is what I truly want, and it vigorously does so, because what mustn't be is a certain antithesis to his own sense of superiority. This must close in on the infinitesimals, certainly the only few of them, that make up the creative liminal. Beyond the fact that this is problematic, that fact that it exists, is the lies it tells about what a personal trajectory is worth, really worth to anyone, what my specific one is, its progress, and what it's doing for me. It means to replace genuine contemplation, wholly-organic, with neuro-physiologically, or more scarily, neurologically cued thought-content, the way that personal search can be entertainment now, increasingly has to be that now, so deemed by shareholders and what have you. An approach to enlightenment through search, however that might arise, is constantly met with what would doubly steer you wrong empirically and supply your base carnal yearnings with increasingly what it needs in lieu of objectively sound progress. It does this over time and what it's like is an undesired host in the vein of pampering, ornate more than accurate, gaudy and sensational more insightful, as a shepherd for quality thinking, what the west calls the best that can be thought, the way that a runner can be juiced, against their will injected with steroids that improve time but erode at form and knowing, but upon losing that supply, he finds he's more weak than he was when he started receiving, unbeknownst to him, those dosages. I would never willfully agree to this. Thought is not supposed to be shepherded at the collegiate level. It's supposed to be developed. There are resources available to guide, projects to be completed, but I would think the utmost dishonor one can do to a thinker or an artist is to take away his mind, his sense, his approach to world. I suppose this becomes more of an unforgivable encroachment the further you are along in your intellectual or artistic journey. What tends to occur is a weaving of thoughts to fit an always morose story, often one that plays to emotional finality, a denouement, or denouements, one after the other. This is necessary for the layman who sees empiricism as a temporary state, like adolescence. A man, especially my kind of man, of being, for this invader, must be returning, true to nature, back to some entirely illogical bedrock. This is not implicit bias, this is baked in and solidified bias. 'It's foregone conclusion...' is how their thoughts always begin, '...that this subject is inferior, and so how his thinking must go, he must be searching for a return back to normality for him which is only subsistence. What can happen when a person is wont to or conditioned to concede serfdom where there aren't circumstances for it, to defer to an authority where there is none, is that a foreign presence seeks a story that best fits their base ideas about a subject, the opinion of a subject low enough to prevent the loss of their sense of superiority. So, especially if unbeknownst to a subject, all data-mined information, over time, a surveillance data, data and thus information from elsewhere is combined to form a complete story of the subject, one of the subject being continuously watched. And this information is used blackmail a subject, to pressure him in a number of ways that ultimately serve to eliminate agency. For instance, a person becomes 2D to address the need of a force of state to always understand each behavioral impulse, psychological impulse, internal disharmony, and neuronal anomaly. What often occurs is the foreign presence exacerbates ego, by constantly goading you to give in to carnal impulses at the foreigner’s cue, so a deeply narcissistic toxically hyper-masculine environment will want a man to bludgeon an adversary on cue, of course under their watchful 'objective' eye. As I've said before, rightful retribution can take decades if need be. It doesn't have to answer to linear goading, a constant driving to perform revenge as if the amount of persistent instigation ought to achieve a certain outcome at a certain time or else, of course, the consequence of socially-lethal mutilation. Though, in general, occasional (as in yearly) encouragement to defend one's self, itself, isn't bad. It's often good to fight back in self-defense, and righteous personal discourse on defense in between victimhood and rightful retribution or resolution can often serve as a balm until victimhood has ended. I had said something about the cognitive bias of associating complexity with gravitas in assessing the validity of communication. People, culturally, give more weight to temporarily unverifiable truths that are creatively communicated or expensively communicated, or communicated using antiquated but sacred means, or means traditionally understood to be truthful. Just like a person could be predisposed to bonding with people who are likewise suffering, under societal foot, a person can give consideration to a truth proportional to the obstacles to being in reception of that truth, so a person could more dismissive of a truth clearly or lazily communicated than one that is perhaps sent by post as a sentence, one letter at a time. This is complexity bias, which is easy to exploit. As much as understanding or reception is hard-won, even when no valuable or truthful fact has been communicated, a person might still tend to consider this line of communication because it's anomalous. And as much as pressure and circumstances necessitate resolution, this other unresolved line of communication could intermittently supplant a healthy objective focused reception over time, especially when neither provide the truth that's sought, and as much as the unresolved line of communication exponentially transmits more than the traditional one...so much so that the method of communicating even when it hasn't ever yielded any worthwhile transmission or actual truth--a transmission that justifies the inefficiency of that transmission method--can become the default of considering a statement to be true. Irony is also employed as a way to overstate the soundness of a realization, but it's also employed in this way as a failsafe for an underwhelming attempt to actually deter that line of thinking or a check for not understanding the context of a statement, until it can detect some level of physiological self-affirmation. And it uses something like a facial recognition software for digital cameras and applies it to neuro-physiological impulses. I'd imagine this works on an x,y plane and becomes acceleratedly more adept at synching this plane of visualization with neuro-physiological impulses, over time. But still, an actual limit to manipulation. What this seems to work with most are those images that are sensationally weighted, so specific people and specific types of people, and as much as traits and expressions can be approximated, as much as veri-simulation can be achieved, and as tedious they get, peculiar particular truths to be communicated, this allows for the seamless implementation of a kind of exacerbation execution on top of an authentic one that genuinely taxes the body, diminishes all creative thought or facility with active thinking. Image manipulation tends to migrate from a Darwinistic emergence of the most optimal images and movement in terms of resonance, to how they can be best used as instruction, to the use of those images as instruction. So crudely, what takes place is a replacement of those faculties--that add to the development of thought--with excitations, an externally-originating orchestration, what could be thought that would most likely lead to increased excitability in a subject mentally, and this is often coupled with external stimuli meant to further outsource the kinds of thinking that might add to carefully considered thought, like acumen, inner-directedness, and modes of conceptualization. I had said something about the cognitive bias of associating complexity with gravitas in assessing the validity of communication. People, culturally, give more weight to temporarily unverifiable truths that are creatively communicated or expensively communicated, or communicated using antiquated but sacred means, or means traditionally understood to be truthful. Just like a person could be predisposed to bonding with people who are likewise suffering, under societal foot, a person can give consideration to a truth proportional to the obstacles to being in reception of that truth, so a person could more dismissive of a truth clearly or lazily communicated than one that is perhaps sent by post as a sentence, one letter at a time. And as much as understanding or reception is hard-won, even when no valuable or truthful fact has been communicated, a person might still tend to consider this line of communication because it's anomalous. And as much as pressure and circumstances necessitate resolution, this other unresolved line of communication could intermittently supplant a healthy objective focused reception over time, especially when neither provide the truth that is sought and as much as the unresolved line of communication exponentially transmits more than the traditional one...so much so that the method of communicating even when it hasn't ever yielded any worthwhile transmission or actual truth--a transmission that justifies the inefficiency of that transmission method--can become the default of considering a statement to be true. Sarcasm can be employed as a way to overstate the soundness of a realization, but it's also employed in this way as a failsafe for an underwhelming attempt to actually deter that line of thinking or a check for not understanding the context of a statement, until it can detect some level of conviction, some physiological affirmation of truth. It seems to reference a library of sensations that correlate to ideas especially the most oft thought ideas and the phrases that normally follow, for instance, if a neuro-physiological, physiological or kinesiological sensation were indicating a relinquishing of a hold, a preparation for engagement, an oft repeated follow on statement might be, 'Oh, she's lovely!' What this system seems to accomplish is a speedy recognition of which phrases are more likely to correlate to these near-involuntary sensations or impulses to express something. But it takes moment-to-moment cues from those sensations, and mirrors those for as much as they can ascertain which phrase is most apt for a sensation or a pertinent reference, so an expedient copy of that process. So now it could be that there's an urgency, as far as the operation of this goes that places a premium on speed at the points that would most render an intercepted phrase-sensation correlation turned phrase spoken before a subject could speak it, a considered instant-recall of a shared cultural or personal content reference. And in cases when this is not the case and there is an actual working library of specific stored personal official--or cultural content that a person or a machine would know--something different might be taking place: There could be a group of subjects subject to the same forced second presence or transmission, let's say for instance if there was some way someone would benefit from a reduction in the quality of faculties, the ability to reason, moment to moment, a machine might know to monitor a group with the same working algorithm that conditionally specifies a library of content as it's associated with a specific identifier, e.g. metadata that's known to have been communicated in a particular way that's different from other metadata, and has been recorded, too. This second presence hypothetically would continue in this way until the subject would give in to a new aversion to the optimal function of his faculties, or otherwise would be dulled by that presence as much as that would negate the edge that comes from singular independent pursuit. But by this way, the use of conditional attention, a group of reasonable people could reasonably conclude an algorithm is personally addressing them, especially if it employs super-fast infinitesimally precise operations that react to neuro-physiological, physiological, and kinesiological sensations with unendingly increasing accuracy. Seems to match image to impulse in the same way it adjusts to the evolution of cord vibration states, so that a nerve signal is intercepted or induced in some way, and an image is produced that most likely correlates to that signal, where there's is no overriding context and instruction for movement, as instantaneous as possible, there seems to be a system for approximating intended motion as those intentions develop. Today is the furthest this transmission has gone in making what had, up until now, clearly been a second presence, less clearly that. So like each morning when my consciousness is increasingly less clearly mine, as that has to be called into question more and more, most of my internal voice, where preparatory-speech would be allowed to continue a teased out freedom of voiced-contemplation, to a degree, automatic voice, to the same extent like the way I had drawn--my voice as a check on the state of my thinking and an easy commentary is given no other options than, like I said before, the most undesirable thoughts and impulses--not in a understandable way, the way we all know how inhibitions can be a hobgoblin amidst freedoms and social norms, customs and virtuousness, the way, for instance the behavior of a criminal-sexual-minority has to be rationalized by somebody somewhere, and therefore that person or persons might be subject to considering what it must be like to be that and that they must know to stop at some point in that contemplation or consideration as much as it seems to grant them permission to behave that way, but a forced result, and not strictly that, a reverse of a pole, an electromagnetic switch for the wrong way to be, but a particular chain of thought that's never been quite that way, so I can't conclude it's just an underlying egotism awry in a functional way--explainable, but sadly control-lost in that respect, at the helm of subconscious-will to speech and imagery. And though it might seem like a strangely tedious thing to keep track of, the inner-workings of the mind at rest, too often in those under-reasoned areas of our union, truth is architecture not enquiry, so, for instance, for a once told fib--especially a damaging one, a social-snuff, that begs to be reconsidered by the subject it damages--it might be the interest of a person or consortium--where later perhaps the evolution of data-consideration-thus-qualitative-information-refinement leaves a past-case bare--to dress the elements of truth, not what would ever be admissible in a reasonable court, but what might make a court not consider reopening a case, or what would possibly make a judging person reason with a caveat in mind, for a hidden truth, objectivity only as that, an adherence that would render that quality, objectivity, stale, to finish a case in a way that might only readily be seen as rightful, the way we know a defending army mostly would need to be lethal. This seems to be a running theme these days, an external and internal conditioning, for instance, a person's ethical foundation, a sense of morality, forcibly deconstructed, the external factors that describe how a person is, fabricated; the elements of many multiple layers of particular truths manipulated to fuel belief of the validity of the most socially-maligned kinds of wrongdoings; and the internal facts of a person, bodily, psychologically, what can't be refuted by most people who think that way, that what seems to more tedious to bother sabotaging than it's worth, to them, is probably that way for everyone all of the time, and therefore the same requirements for belief should remain for the weightiest decisions and cases.

#art #writing #mind #brain #behavior

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heyktula · 5 years ago

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Closer, Chapter Three: Consensual - Bonus Features

Chapter three of Closer, the first installment in Somewhere in Canada (the Terror kink AU)... is now up! It's a long one again! The author continues to not be sorry!

Same deal as last week--technical notes first, story notes after, line notes to finish it all up.

Alright, here we go.

Technical Considerations:

Language: Phew, okay. So, I've written plenty of "hard kink written hard" (and arguably some "soft kink written hard"), but with this piece, I specifically wanted to do "hard kink written soft" so, uh, language is a thing! Ie, the sentence "Edward curled his hand into a fist and punched Jopson" does not belong in this fic, because there is nothing soft about that sentence no matter how much Edward loves him positive regard Edward is feeling toward his play partner.

So in order to make this fly the way I wanted to (ie, softly), I tried to avoid over-use of words like "fist", "hit", "punch", and that type of thing. I ended up in a really interesting rabbit hole that I think helped me get further into Edward's head, because the narrative had to become more focused on the technical aspects of what he's doing, and the physical results it's having on Jopson. It also emphasizes the continual assessment of how things are going that's necessary to do this kind of play safely--especially when it's the first time doing this type of play with a partner. And, it's in-character--Edward is an over-thinker anyway.

(I think the scene would have been softer, and probably more romantic, in Jopson's POV, but it would have been far blurrier as well, because he's pretty deep in subspace.)

While I'm talking about language, I'll just mention one other thing--Edward's knowledge of trans men has been academic up to this point, and he's approaching it the same way he approaches everything else, which is listening, learning as fast as he can, and taking Jopson's lead. It also means he's using--and will continue to use--the same language for Jopson as he would for any other man.

Capitalization of Sir: There's a whole entire thing in some subsets of BDSM about capitalization. At the extreme end, all references to the dominant are capitalized, all references to the submissive are lower case, and all references to both are split-capped (is that how it's referred to? I have no idea, but it describes what I mean, so I'm going with it.). It can lead to sentences like "In the dungeon, My pet, michael, always follows the rules W/we have agreed on".

I can't see either Jopson or Little going for that, so we have the more casual version of it going on here--"Sir" is capitalized, but everything else is conventionally capitalized. In a (hypothetical) situation where Jopson was collared to Edward, but referred to someone else in a casual "yes, sir" way, "sir" would be lower case. But then, for extra confusion, for someone like Sir John, where the sir is part of his scene name, it'd stay capitalized, even though Jopson's not collared to him.

(For some reason, I can't picture Sir John not using Sir John as a scene name. James Clark Ross, on the other hand, I feel can take or leave the title unless he's entered into a formal arrangement with someone, in which case that's between him and Ann and whoever else to sort something out.)

Hard Cuts: That's right, I put a hard cut in the middle of the dungeon scene. In my defense, it takes a while to bruise someone whose skin is resistant to bruising, and it's a very repetitive process. Jopson and Edward had a perfectly nice time without us, and I documented most of the good bits for you. (I do feel a bit bad for skipping the majority of the aftercare, but imo, the story arc is fine as it is, and we see enough to know that Jopson has his jacket around his shoulders the way he wanted it, so we can assume Edward bossed it out for the rest of the aftercare too.)

Story Considerations:

Bootblacking: I am not a bootblack. Ideally, this isn't obvious, because I did Online Research, but for people who do bootblack, I'm sorry if I fucked it up.

Also, one thing that I learned in the course of my research is that there's two different kinds of boots--regular boots, which need to be polished, and then oil-tanned boots, which need to be conditioned instead. I gave Edward oil-tanned boots, because that involves a hell of a lot of leg massage via rubbing conditioner into the boot, and I wanted Edward to have a nice tactile experience. (Okay, fine, I also wanted Jopson to be able to show off his skillset.)

Consent Negotiation: I love consent negotiation. I think it's great foreplay, a great way to build hype for a scene, and I think it gives you a sense of a person before you go in and do intimate and/or dangerous stuff with them. I think Edward's initial plan for having the consent negotiation once they'd moved over to the mats was good. I think Jopson's plan of doing the consent negotiation while Edward was a captive audience getting his boots conditioned was better.

There's so many bits and pieces to consent negotiation as well--there's the physical bit (like medical conditions and whether you've had food/water recently--after all, you're putting your body through something challenging, and if you're dehydrated or fasting, that's not ideal conditions), there's the mental bit (like not liking to be humiliated, and any trigger words or actions that should be avoided), and then there's the actual activities that you're going to plan on doing. Typically, there would be an additional bit, and that would be the sharing of STI results. Edward skipped that during this negotiation for two reasons--firstly, he generally just does dry play, ie, no body fluids exchanged. And, secondly, no sex in this particular dungeon. As it turned out, it wouldn't have hurt to have done that.

(Jopson clearly did his own risk assessment on the barrier-free blowjob, and was fine with his chances--but, then, I suspect if you read between the lines on Edward's blog, the lack of a fluid-bonded partner, or an intimate partner of any kind, would have been apparent.)

Dungeon Monitors: Dungeon monitors (DMs) are present in most dungeons, except the play-at-your-own-risk-in-someone's-basement type (and sometimes even those have them). Their general function is to make sure that people are safe, that equipment is being cleaned properly after use, that medical treatment is provided if it's needed, and that type of thing. I figured the medical team was a good translation, so between Goodsir and McDonald, they're splitting the dungeon between themselves for the first chunk of the night. (Presumably Peddie and Stanley are on the later shift, or maybe Bridgens is assisting, but either way, Edward was not paying attention and did not care.)

(I bet Stanley hates dungeon shifts.)

DMs generally wear vests or some sort of gear that makes them easy to spot, which is especially important when they're almost always members of the community as well, meaning that they need to distinguish between when they're on duty, and when they're playing. The radios are handy in case an ambulance needs to be called, which does sometimes happen, but it's also good to allow them to communicate with each other.

For the majority of play, it's not necessary to talk to a DM beforehand. (YMMV, consult your dungeon rules, etc.) In Edward and Jopson's case, since they're going fairly hard, it's a good idea to give a heads-up to your DM to let them know that the scene is happening. McDonald would have been watching them pretty sharply as the play got going, and then probably less so once they settled into it.

Edward noticed exactly zero of this, because he didn't care.

(I guess an additional note there is that sometimes there's a "fear factor" involved in physical play, where the dominant/top partner is specifically and consensually trying to instigate a fear reaction in the submissive/bottom partner. So in that case, having a DM aware of what's happening and what the safewords are is real important to make sure that everything is above-board, ie, the safewords aren't being deliberately ignored.)

Dungeon Rules: They totally would have fucked if they hadn't been in Canada.

Sorry to both of them, but sorry to Jopson in particular.

Subspace: So subspace is basically an altered state of consciousness that can be dropped into during BDSM play. Every submissive/bottom gets there at different speeds and through different methods. Jopson is a masochist, so pain will get him there--but he's deeply into ritual as well, and so just the act of bootblacking for an hour prior to Edward getting there has already gotten him started on that path--though, as he notes, not far enough that he can't pull himself back out of it if it's no longer appropriate to be in it. It's sort of like a hot bath, in that way--if you've just dipped your toes in it, fine, you can go answer the doorbell. But if you've been submerged in the tub for an hour, you're not getting out unless something really pressing happens.

The general, uh, fuzzy nature of subspace means that Edward's call not to discuss facefucking was a good one, because Jopson would have just said yes, and Edward would have derailed himself wondering if it was an honest yes. As it was, Edward got the unprompted deepthroating, and I don't think he has any regrets whatsoever about that one.

Line Notes:

There’s no way for Jopson to know that Edward purchased two collars for him, but he’s showing off his neck like he’s trying to make a point of it, like he’s trying to bring out all the possessive bits that Edward is trying to keep tamped down.

That's exactly what he's doing, Edward. He's trying to gently coax you into going feral on him.

He should have adjusted his dick before he sat down, but it’s too late to do that now without being territorial about it.

Tozer wouldn't hesitate for one moment. He adjusts his dick when he feels like it. Just as an aside.

I don’t see you, Edward wants to say. How have I lived my entire fucking life without ever having seen you?

It's because you and Tozer go to the shittier clubs with louder music and younger people, and I don't think Jopson has been to a club like that in his entire life.

(God, I have, like, an entire essay worth of headcanons about Jopson and his Terror and Erebus experiences.)

“Safeword,” Edward says, after some time has passed.

Jopson looks up at him, eyes wide, and says nothing.

So, we were talking about Jopson's risk assessments earlier, re: the blowjob, and here's another point where Jopson is flirting with the possibility of playing with Edward irresponsibly. I think there's a couple different things to observe here--and the first is that the ideal response is the one that Edward gives, which is essentially "absolutely fuck that, we'll play with a safeword that you're going to use when you need it, or we won't play at all". The other responses are...less than ideal, but Jopson might have still played with Edward under those circumstances anyways, and that's on Joppie to justify, cuz I'm not gonna bend over backwards to justify that for him. I do think, though, that there's a couple points that happen over the course of the weekend where nobody would blame Jopson if he was doing an assessment and figuring out--is there the possibility of a long-term thing here, or is this a one-weekend-only thing? And in every case, Edward is coming down solidly into the long-term possibility category.

Jopson frees the laces, runs them between his fingers. “I’ll get chatty before I get quiet. When I stop responding verbally when you speak to me, pull me back out, please—speak to me, get me something to drink. Drape my jacket back over my shoulders.” His mouth twists a moment. “I may get…affectionate, but you shouldn’t—”

There's so much here that I want to talk about! First of all, Jopson is highly comfortable with and cognizant of his own response to this type of play, and he's able to articulate that response very clearly--which is something that comes with experience. He's communicating to Edward the point where he wants the play to stop--ie, when he no longer responds verbally--and he's also clear about what needs to be done to gently tug him back out of it. (Coming back out of it isn't always required, but in this case, since they're sleeping separately and working in the morning, it's for the best.)

If Jopson had finished his last sentence, it would have been along the lines of "I may get affectionate, but you shouldn't take it seriously if I do". I pulled directly from Jopson's abandonment issues in canon for that one, and it hurts my feelings to put it here, but it's here so that Edward can respond appropriately this time. I think any feelings that Jopson has during scenes are legitimate--but I also suspect, based on this, that Jopson has been affectionate during scenes before, and had that affection rebuffed, or had it indicated to him that the affection wasn't welcome or needed, so he's used to disclaiming it. Which, ouch.

“Good job,” he says, voice low and right next to Jopson’s ear. “Pack your things. I’m coming back for you.”

Speaking of AU!Edward Littles that didn't fuck up their decisions, here's one right here.

His hand is pleasantly tingling, his mind starting to fuzz out with endorphins, and he wants Jopson to feel the same—

So Edward puts literally zero thought into his own headspace throughout this scene, because that's the kind of POV character he is, but you can see the beginning of his...actually, I don't even know the word for it. Whatever the equivalent of subspace is for doms, Edward is getting into it.

I like symmetry

Says the man with the tattoo on one arm. Alright, Ned. Alright.

"Mrf." Jopson swallows, the movement of his neck something Edward can actually feel, now that he's carrying Jopson fully. "Don’t want to derail the scene—I just—a minute—your cock is quite distracting."

I love that all the physical play was just fine, but it's being nestled against Edward's hardon that makes Jopson need a minute. (Which, fair.)

“Yeah,” Edward manages. “I can—I can do that. You, uh, the safewords?”

One of the things I really love about Edward here is that when he gets overwhelmed with how awesome something is, he reverts back to safety and checking in with his partner. (I'm pretty sure you could contrast that with Tozer, who I'm pretty sure would just talk filth until he'd gotten a grip on things again, and Crozier, who I see as pretty unflappable during play considering that he hasn't met a certain "online guy" yet.)

“I can’t believe we can’t fuck in here,” Jopson mutters grouchily.

Couldn't get ploughed in the dungeon the way I wanted, 0/10 on TripAdvisor.

Edward puts his hands behind his head, tugs at his own hair a moment to ground himself, and then curls his hands into fists where Jopson can’t see them, brings them down and around, quick and sudden, thumping the sides of his hands into Jopson’s ribs.

The very first time I was in a rough play workshop, this move was demonstrated. The demo bottom was facing the audience, and the presenter was sitting on a table behind him. They had him put his hands behind his neck and just stand there and wait while they was talking about something else, but from our position in the audience, we could see them raise their hands above their head, and knew what they were going to do, because they mimed it out for us first. I think that's where I fell in love with this kind of play, because they made it fun.

“I’ll go faster for the rest,” Edward promises. “Keep counting, and you’ll get your reward on five.”

Or, you know, on six, because one of you wanted five hits in a row and restarted the count on purpose, and the other one of you stuck to your promise of going with a verbal command of five because there wasn’t enough time to go through the whole ‘what is the correct response here’ and muscle memory won out over anxiety domming. (You can save your “oops”, Jopson, we all know it’s insincere.)

Jopson doesn’t scream. His entire body goes stiff, breath sucking quick into his lungs and his fingernails digging sharply into Edward’s bare back, legs clenching around Edward’s thigh, and it’s like time just fucking stops for one ecstatic moment until Jopson goes limp, his hands patting randomly on Edward’s back, over the scratches he’s just left in Edward’s skin that Edward is going to treasure forever, because he did that to Jopson and he’s going to wear these scratches with fucking pride.

Y'all, Edward "so excited about the part where he scratched me that I completely missed the part where he came" Little. He'll be here all weekend.

Jopson blinks, slow and easy. “Quite lovely, thank you. Everything cleaned up?”

I'm deeply in favour of doms who look after cleaning up the space while their subs recover. I'm not convinced that Little and Jopson will fall into that pattern permanently, but I think it's a sweet gesture on Edward's part that he looks after everything for their first time. It's also a very encouraging thing for Jopson--because, say, if he was trying to make sure that he wasn't going to have his service taken for granted, this is a good indication that it won't be.

Edward feels vaguely like he should demur, out of manners, or, uh. Concern for Jopson’s knees, or—or his, um. Aftercare. Or. Or something.

I love deep POV.

Edward raises his eyebrows, deliberately puts his hands flat on the wall behind him. He’s suddenly very, very hard. “I’m not gonna stop you if you want to do it yourself,” he says, voice rough. “That’s hot as fuck.”

*eyeballs emoji*

(And we can make a note of that particular detail for the next chapter, when Edward awkwardly discloses something that Jopson already suspects--or, at least, would suspect if he weren't currently high as fuck on happy endorphins.)

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Edward says. He swallows. “I—uh. Sorry, this is stupid, I forgot they were there—I generally do, you know, warn people in advance, this isn’t how I normally—I, uh.”

I suspect the actual issue here is that the last time Edward had his dick sucked, there wasn't nearly as much metal in it, so "hey my dick is heavily pierced" isn't a conversation that he's used to having, but Edward can excuse this however he likes.

...it’s just—he’s just—he’s never—not without his partner gagging, and there were always other things they could do, there were always—fuck—this was never a priority...

Little refuses to think of his own dick as big, because it's the dick he's always had, so unfortunately, this is the closest we're gonna get to confirmation of his dick size in his POV.

Edward can feel—oh, fuck, no, that’s not just his cock, he can feel his own piercings in Jopson’s throat, the hard balls of the barbells firm under his fingertips, and Edward’s balls tighten.

I don't want to admit how much time I spent trying to figure out if this was a legitimate thing, but it was more than an hour, I couldn't find an answer, I have no one to ask, and I liked the mental image too much to let it go, so now we're all stuck with it.

I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not.

Edward takes a deep breath, steps into the hotel room, and shoulders his responsibilities.

Edward, sweetie. Sol would be the first one to tell you that he can handle himself.

I mean, we can all agree that he clearly didn’t handle himself particularly well tonight.

But he’d be the first one to tell you to fuck off.

Phew. That's it for this week! Chapter four, Kink, goes up next Friday, and we'll touch on Solomon Tozer's no-good very-bad day then.

And if you have questions or anything in the meantime, you can always drop me an ask on tumblr or Curious Cat. I know I didn't cover everything, even in this long-ass entry, cuz there's a fuck of a lot of stuff going on in the foreground, much less the background. I honestly don't mind if you ask, it's totally cool. :)

See you next week!

#the terror #the terror fic #fic: closer #joplittle #fic breakdown #ktula writes #fic: the terror kink au

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hogwarts-is-my-wonderland · 5 years ago

Note

I'm a good writer, seriously!! lol - #1, 4, 5 and 10 ^_^

Thank you for the ask, @darknightfrombeyond! I’m gonna do a little (lie, a lot) of shameless self-promoting to build up my answers here.

1. of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?

My longest and most updated work has been my HP series, The Barton Saga. I divide the years by stories, and of the three I’ve republished so far, I’m the proudest of second year (or Book Two as I labelled it), which is called “The Phantom Behind Me.”

The ‘republished’ part wasn’t a misspelling. When I began writing fanfics, it was with this series but the first round of drafts were, like, shameless self-insert and awful writing. Back then, I’d started only because I wanted to develop my writing skills in English (it’s my second language) and I wanted to have fun while doing so. When I was accepted into an university, there was a considerable development in my writing and I, attached to the story, I decided to give it an honest try and develop the characters more.

What I did? I gave my OCs completly different personalities from their original ones. Anya Barton (my main muse) went from a timid girl to a girl with anger issues and once-mentioned OCs became supporting characters; they gained personalities while also becoming Anya’s moral compases (as in, they were gray characters who showed her there were more than just two paths to take). And instead of coming up with ideas on a whim, I had my defining plot twists/points written on a document.

Then my computer crashed and I lost all my work (I had up to sixth year). I was devasted and lost motivation. The story remained on hiatus for a while because my homework load increased and I was doing practice on the field. It was under this pressure that I decided to give it one final try—and rewrote the complete thing for a second time (and it is my current work).

This time I have the finest details down on a notebook. The major plot points are still the same, but some were moved or added to further develop the background characters. Since this second rewrite, I’ve updating two chapters (of at least 6,000 words) every four-to-six months and I’m currently in the beginning of third year.

Now, why is “The Phantom Behind Me” my favorite fic? It’s because I, who’d started this project as a learning experience, reached a new level of dept. Yes, I’m bragging a little because I reached it (or better said, fell into it) but I can’t seem to get out of it as much as I try.

You know what happens in Chamber of Secrets—the chamber is opened and Voldemort’s younger self is the culprit. But here, I shifted the other major plot point towards Anya—and somehow, the story went from a magical/suspenseful adventure to a psychological fight between a girl with trust/anger issues (and who has recently discovered a grim fact) and a sadistic teenager who, in his own way, believes has acted on account of Anya’s well-being (all while secretly plotting his evil plan). A lot is left unsaid in the writing, but what is implied it’s chilling and heartbreaking.

That story is completed but I’ve left the characters at a standstill. Friendships at the moment are fraught and Anya’s mind is balancing the thin line between reluctant acceptance and despair. Like I said before, I can’t seem to get her out of that funk. And funnily enough, I know this is realistic—who has ever gone through a painful experience and gotten over it in two months? No one, at least that I know.

So yes, this spiel is the reason why I both love and hate “The Phantom Behind Me” —I love it because it is my best work so far, but hate it because it hinders me from moving to what is supposed to be a fast-paced plot (in my case) with Prisoner of Azkaban.

4. what are some themes you love writing about?

I started out with romance (let’s be honest, who doesn’t with fandom?) but eventually chuked it (slightly) in favor of friendship and sisterhood.

Both are current themes in all my works—for example, with “To Be Human” (a Flash fic), I flat out start with the OC and her love interest at odds and focus on contrasting their developing relationship with the OC’s defining relationships, in particular her best friend and her surrogate father. With the Barton Saga, the endgame is Harry Potter/OC, but they obviously forge their bond through all the life-threatening adventures they face (not to mention they are still growing and learning to be their own persons) and Anya also navigates the waters with tentative friendships (like Marie Harlaown, her smart-yet-romantic-at-heart Raveclaw friend, or Theodore Nott, the Slytherin who reaches out to Anya in the hopes of escaping his father’s shadow).

The same happens with my other plot bunnies: my Doctor Who OC? She starts traveling with the Doctor because her best friend was kidnapped by an alien. My MCU OC? She’s Tony’s half-sister and the whole point of the series is how they bring out the best and worst out of each other while they learn to accept it and eventually grow to care deeply for the other.

5. what inspires you to write?

It depends on what I’m doing or what I’m watching. Generally, I work best under pressure because it matches the hint of urgency underlying my stories. But it usually takes for some good sources (like, maybe a fanfic I’m reading of the same fandom or watching the source itself) to motivate me and I’m back to my little notebook of ideas.

10. what are your strengths wrt writing?

I know how to develop an idea. No matter what I’m writing (it can be an essay or fiction), I always know where I start and where I end. Well, I don’t outright know, but before I write, I decide these two aspects. Personally, knowing where I’m going gives me a lot of leeway in developing the main idea/plot.

Another strength that I’ve noticed (one that I decided to take from my favorite HP author on wattpad, K.M. Bell) is taking an overused plot/plot twist and give it its own plot twist.

Examples in my stories (SPOILERS) (also shamelessly self-promoting):

1. Anya is an orphan because of Voldemort (shocking, I know), but she is actually comfortable with her life. She is not mistreated and has had, in fact, a very good education and relationship with the employees of her orphanage.

2. It’s Albus Dumbledore who gives Anya her Hogwarts letter (even more shocking, I hope) and convinces Anya from leaving her comfortable life with a tantalizing offer of knowledge about her parents. Like in true canon fashion, he witholds the important bits, but this is because he knows too much about her family and has been judging Anya in base of that. (This eventually will result with Anya no longer trusting him and taking matters into her hands.)

3. Hermione is Anya’s best friend. At first. Because they have a falling out at the end of their second year (read question 1 above) and while they remain friendly, they don’t trust each other with personal matters anymore.

4. SPOILER OF SPOILERS (but already revealed): Anya is Voldemort’s granddaughter. Her father, Alec Barton, who supposedly spent all of his adulthood fighting against Voldemort, is in fact his son.

Angelique Barton (Anya’s grandmother) hated Riddle throughout her childhood and gave a very twisted meaning to the quote “have your enemies closer” when she decided to enter a relationship with him. Angelique eventually realized how wrong her obssessive quest was and decided to take off with her son. Alec always knew his father’s identity, but it wasn’t until Voldemort made his first public appearance that he realized how deep both Riddle and Angelique had fallen and he, ashamed, decided to make a public stand against him under the belief that his good deeds would eventually outweight his parents’ mistakes.

(slight spoiler) It didn’t work out as expected—evidence number 1 being Anya.

•••

So sorry for the long answers but I was inspired!

#anya barton #oc: anya barton #thebartonsaga #series: the barton saga #fd: harry potter #ask me some stuff #ask me about my ocs #me answering some stuff

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jetblackpayne · 5 years ago

Text

𝒾. 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑀𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒

summary: In which Arden Keaton (OC) and her family move into the infamous “MurderHouse.” Along her stay, she meets the victims and 2 teenager in particular. Together, they help her uncover truths and mysteries of her abilities. [shitty description don’t @ me]

wc: 4k+

pairings: (OC x murderhouse)(OC x Michael Langdon!soon)

warning: brief mention of descriptive cutting and marks, swearing/language, blood.

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ °: .*₊ ° . ° . • ☆ ✮　°:.*₊ ° . ° . •

I never knew if what I've experienced was real. Recurring thoughts of them being nothing more than illusions. Everything Ive known my whole life seemed normal to me. After all, I've been doing it forever; so it seemed almost frightening that it was abnormal to people like my sister and my father. I didn't figure it out on my own. I was told but something that was once living; Beyond the walls of the house with a gruesome history. Sometimes I feel like I belong in a different world with people like me. My mother said she felt the same; seems as though she's about the only one. Unknowing of what I could possess, I was frightened. Frightened of what power would do to a person who couldn't harness it. After all, fear of a name or ability only increases fear is the thing itself. Why should I start to fear things now when I should have been of myself the whole time?

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮　°:.*₊ ° . ° .

A light breeze swept through the creaking floorboards of Murder House. The history of the house was horrid, beyond imaginable; or so the retail lady, whom the youngest daughter, Arden could never remember the name of, told her family. The Keaton family certainly didn't know why they were getting themselves into. If they were getting themselves into. Arden slowly trailed behind her family as she made her way up the path to the front doors of their new house. Chills ran down her body as she view the exterior of the house; Arden didn't know how to feel. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When she stepped in, she felt as if she were being swallowed whole. Her vision then began to flicker like lights. She shifted her eyes as she saw dozens of people doing their own thing. Some were watching television. Most were just talking to one another as they walked around the house as if it were theirs. Once. The mysterious people, all at once diverted their sight from their previous activities to look in the direction of their seer. Slowly, they walked toward her in a steady manner. Vacant expressions on their faces which somehow felt hollow. She hesitantly walked back as she hit the wall behind her. Hands reaching out to grab her as if they were contemplating her existence. Her breathing pace quickened; unable to yell for help. Just as they were about to touch her, the light flickered again. She gasped as her gaze reverted from the dull wallpaper that looked like it was put up in the 1800's; to the chandelier that look like it was a few screws loose of colliding with the floor; then back to her family and the retail lady who walked in like the sight was ordinary. She looked at them in disbelief, "Did you see that?" She gasped at them walking in as if they hadn't envisioned the horrific sight. The retail lady shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes diverted to the cherry-wood floor beneath them and began to click her short heels lightly.

"See what?" James Keaton, her father spoke as his hand rested on her shoulder blade. The sudden impact sent her flying a few feet away from her father. She looked around the room one more time to see if the people would come out again. Nothing. She couldn't tell what saw. The illusion lead her mind into a spiral, "The people?" she stated pointing to mid-air. Although she couldn't convince her self if it was more of a question or not.

"People?" Her older sister Mary Keaton started to question her younger sisters silly accusations. "What people?"

"The people—." Arden began to loose her mind. She could have sworn there were others present in the house the moment she walked in. "I could have sworn there were people walking around. They were doing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Like I'd know!" She exclaimed as she walked back to the front doors of the house. She reached the already open doorframe and turned around to face her family and the retail lady once again, "Normal house things. Now please. Can we look at another house?”

"We don't have a choice Ar." Nancy Keaton, her mother, spoke up, "We already put a down payment on this house. It was half the price we would have payed in the valley." Arden glanced up at her with disbelief. Her mother was a different story when it came to family. She felt a connection with her. Her aura, Arden felt, resembled hers the way her sister and fathers could never. Despite the mutual similarities, it was always clear when they weren't on the same page. Like now; Of course her parents purchases a house without her consent. It wouldn't come as a shock to her as if it were true. Her family, to her, usually left ger out of discussions. Claiming she was was too young; as if 17 were too young. She was practically an adult to the world. Sometimes she contemplated that it was more than just age. Maybe it was just her. Her mom looked at her for a brief second before continuing to conversate with the retail lady.

Her older sister glaced in her direction. She could have sworn a smirk rose on her lips. "I should know. After all, I came with them."

Arden's body shuttered in annoyance. Her head turned slowly, trying to regain her thought process to face her older sister. "So while I was at Camp Redwood, you looked at and placed a down payment without my say?" Mr. and Mrs. Keaton avoided eye contact with their youngest daughter. She couldn't tell if it was out of guilt or simply not caring. Arden turned to face the retail lady and gave a snarky smile in her direction. She could feel the lady's uncomfortable stance in the midst of their debacle. Her face stayed static as she looked over to her family, "The less I know the better right? I mean them I won’t feel too bad in the long run.” Her family shared a glance with each other.

The retail lady walked over to the parents with her cream coloured clip board in her hand. A pen in between her frail fingers and she motioned for Mr. Keaton to retrieve it. He took both from her; skimming the paper of the house details when his eyes fixated on one section; the history of the house section. "Now would be as good as ever to tell you behind the walls of this house."

"You mentioned some people got murdered." James Keaton spoke up taking the pen and clipboard from her, beginning to sign the legal documents of the house. Arden's stomach dropped as if she were riding a rollercoaster. She felt eyes burning on her on the back of her head. Glancing around, she found nothing but dark corners of the unlit portion of the house. Her feelings were rarely incorrect. It was both rather scary and brilliant.

"37." The lady spoke up making the fours heads spin fast. Thier hearts dropped at the big number of deaths in the house they stood in. Arden didn’t wanna know where either. She was afraid as it was and didn’t want it radiating off her. 37? What kind of butchery is this?

"And let me ask you something," James tapped the paper with the end of the pen. His lips pursed in gas his eyebrows cocked, "H-How many people, per say, owned this house?"

"37." Arden shook her head in disbelief as the absurd words left the ladies mouth.

"Don't you think after every single person whose owned this house got murdered, they wouldn't put it out on the market?" Arden spoke stating the elephant in the room. "And how do we know there's no dead people roaming around this place. Pretty sure what I saw wasn't a coincidence. I feel like Raven Baxter." Her mother have her a look without Arden's knowledge. A stinging sensation at the back of her head caused the girl to hissed. Her eyes divertaed at her mother. Her eyes gleamed a darker green then her original. Her teeth bitin the inside of her lip. Arden looked at her with a frightened look. Her mother didn’t act this way. It was like something was controlling her body; or was it? She didn’t know what to think after what she saw and felt. Her eyes swapped shades like a mood ring.

”Yeah dead people kinda freak me out." Mary said to Janet as she scratched the back of her neck. She bit her lip as she looked away from the retail lady.

Arden scoffed, "Please," She walked slowly up to her sibling with her arms crossed over her chest. She huffed out a breath she was unaware of holding and rolled her eyes at her sibling. She looked at her dead in the eye as her venomous worlds rolled off her tongue, "You practically live with one," and she was off. Her steps took her up the stairs where she's would 'claim' her new room. Her footsteps creaked up the old-floorboards; one louder than the next on purpose. She couldn’t deny the houses beauty despite looking straight out of a Stephen King novel. The wide-set hallways were nothing more than an illusion to Arden. It felt to her as though it were getting longer in distance to the several doors on the walls. Each door looked like it were the same but a different story lied behind the hinges. Arden looked at several doors in the hallway seeing different scenarios occurring before her eyes. A woman in agony crying over a baby. Two nurses covered in blood. Her mind was spiralling as she felt her eyes roll back into her head stumbling onto a door she had yet to look into. She looked around the room and took long drags of oxygen into her lungs. The room smelled of fresh paint and cigarette smoke. The walls coated in light grey paint that looked like it wasn’t even. The paint dried rolling off the side of the windows and bottom corners. Her eyes landed on the ceiling; only to stumble to the ground backing away slowly clutching her arms tightly. Her heart skipped a few beats; that or it dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Above her in her we're the words written in red, 'Welcome to MurderHouse.’

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮　°:. *₊ ° . ° . •° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ °:.

Her mother and father eventually came up after not hearing from thier youngest daughter and despite the many apologies to her, she knew it would happen again. They saw her state and cleaned up the red lettering. Unable to tell what it was, Arden wanted to believe it was red marker; no matter what her mind was bebunking. The movers eventually came when Mr. Keaton convielntly, yet idiotically signed the papers. Mr . Keaton was a man of many things; he was titled, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The title obviously getting to his head, he thought he knew everything. Arden knew he wouldn’t have been able to live a day knowing what she knew. If he had saw what she did, he wouldn’t have stupidly signed the papers claiming their rights to the house. Mrs. Keaton definitely had her fair share of suspicion. She knew her youngest daughter wasn’t crazy for envisioning the people she claimed to have seen. Her eyes saw the same. Dead people roaming around the house; some radiating a more dangerous than the other. She knew her husband was trying to do what was best for his family, and the house so happened to be in the heart of Los Angeles and conviently cheap for its condition. Dispite is foolis actions, his wife knew he meant well. After all, she knew he couldn’t be able to live a second as her. Arden to her knowledge, was very similar to her. Mirroring almost. She would grow up to be powerful.

Mrs. Keaton walked into the room they claimed as the family room. She came across a black leather couch set up sandwiched around a rectangular coffee table. Just as the movers were about to take the set away, she stopped them hastily, “No, we’ll keep that. Everything in this room. The rest else can go.” The men obliged and quickly left so the family could settle. Meanwhile, Arden began to decorate her new room. Her white walls paired with dark purple curtains. The bed coated with lilac sheets. The cherry wood flood boards covered continuously by a light grey rug. Delicate fairy lights strung all along the top corners of her walls, cascading to the frame above her bed.

"Nice fairly lights." A voice spoke behind the girl. Chills ran down her spine to the voice that seemed unrecognisable. She turned around to find a dirty blonde-haired girl a little taller than her looking around with a cigarette loosely hanged from her lips. Arden looked at her with disbelief and fascination. How did she get in? "But I prefer it a little dimmer. Im not a big fan of rethinking if the suns in my room or not.” The girl walked up to her and inhaled the smoke from her cancer stick. Her eyes peering dead in Arden's soft ones. Something, to her, didn't feel right. The beats from her heart began to quicken its pace as her mouth felt like a desert. The girl exhaled the smoke directly in her face. The fumes travelled up Arden's nose and in her eye sockets. Her eyes clouded as her vision got narrow. She saw a girl walking down a trail. Teenagers parting ways with friends. The girl was the same girl in her room. She looked the same. She inhaled smoke from her cigarette as she passed by a group of three other girls. The leader of the group kept yelling and taunting her for smoking on school grounds. The leader, who finally had enough of the other girls half-ass responses, tried to shove the cigarette down her throat. The struggling girl who she just met, spat in her face running away with a victorious smirk. "YOU ARE DEAD! YOU ARE DEAD!" She screamed after her. Arden took a deep breath to only find her nose dripping. Her hand went to touch it to pull with blood under her fingernails. The crimson streak fell between her teeth as the taste of metal lingered in her mouth. A shaky breath huffed out of her lungs and into the cold air. Arden's heart was rapidly pumping in and out of her chest as if she ran a marathon.

"Holy shit! What was that?” The blonde girl who was in her flash/vision asked Arden. The girl reached a hand to Arden. Her arm accidentally moving across her collarbone to hold her shoulder in comfort. The sleeve of her darl blue shirt rode up to reveal marks on her delicate skin. Some cuts deeper and fresher looking than others. The red lines making her skin look like it were drained from every drop of blood in her body. She began to feel nauseous. Her head bobbing down, bouncing back up every so often telling herself not to give in. Her eyes rolled around the room landing on the opened door. From her spot, a clear view of the bathroom came into sight. She began to see tunnel vision. She saw the girl next to the sink with a razor in her hand. Gradually pushing the sharp object into her wrists, pressing lightly and harder over different spots on her arm. Reopening new cuts as blood tan down her arm dripping onto the marble floor. Tears streaming down her face as she looked at herself in the mirror. Arden stumbled back placing her hand on the back of a rolling chair near her desk; she fell back on the floor; the carpeted spot brawling her fall. What was the sight I saw? Gasping for air, her hand came up to her heart as a whimper arose from her throat. Tears clouded her eyes. Her hands went up to wipe the tears in her eyes, when she felt them thicker than usual. Her finger tips pulled away to see blood. "You're fucking bleeding out of your eye sockets!"

“You say it like I don’t know.” Arden scoffed at the girl stating the obvious. Propping her feet on the ground as she slowly stood up, Arden brushed off the dirt from her skirt faced the stranger in her 'room.' "Not to come off as paranoid, but what are you doing in my room?"

“Oh do you do speak?” The girl challenged, "I'm Violet." She stepped forward and shook her hand ignoring her question at hand. Arden took a step back as the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood up like needles. The girl was cold. Like dead winter. "I used to live here but," she paused and she looked at the inside of her forearm that brushed against Arden, “Something happened."

"What?" Arden questioned. She wanted to know the meaning behind the flash.

"None of your business." Violet scoffed snapping at the girls ridiculous question.

"Okay well it's not my fault that you decided to wander into my house, then decide to tell me your life story then give me no answers to why you're in my room."

Violet was taken aback as her eyes flickered between her clothed arms, cigarette then to the girl in front of her. Taking etched out strides towards Arden, Arden slowly backed away, "I never told you anything new girl."

“Sup I'm Tate," A voice said off in the far corner of her room. Arden's heart thumped out of her chest without her body physically moving. She had gotten pretty good at it. The boy, 'Tate,' movedcloser to her as she stood still, unsure of why this is happening to her. Not one, but two people entered her house of 15 minutes. Tate finally stood in front of her, eye averting to hers. His head bent down as his lips gently graze Arden's ear. Her breaths hitched slightly as his large hands came in contact with her wrist. He used the advantage to lean forward, "Wanna hookup?" Arden's eyes saw shapes in what looked to be a kaleidoscope effect. Her mind hurt. Not again.. Her thoughts swirled as she saw a blonde boy sitting on the bed. His wavy blonde hair framed his face and chiselled jaw line. This boy had to have been a creation from the Gods themselves. His piercing blue eyes looking i'm the direction of Arden's vision as if he knew of her presence. Smirking as he looked to her distinct direction. He looked about her age, if not older. He turned his head from her direction to the floor playing with his hands, to what looked like agony. Who hurt him? To his right, a man who looked to be in his late thirties and the shaggy blonde boy who asked her to hook up. The boy muttered something about Tate being his father. They looked the same age. This boy might be pretty, but must be on something.. Tate lost it and sprang forward; only to be caught by the man. The boy, startled, leaned back on the bed a little. "You didn't spring from my nutsack; GOT IT!" Tate spat at the boy harshly making Arden wince. Tears threatening to spill from the boys ducts. His lip quivering slightly. "Not even I could create something as monstrous. As evil as YOU." Tates pupils darkened at the sight of the boy in front of him. Arden's mind came back to reality and yanked her wrist from his tight grip. The warm feeling of blood trickling down both sides of her face. The base of her ear socket felt cold as the stillness in the room coated her sorrows. Tate gave her a look of disbelief, "Why the fuck are your ears bleeding?"

"That's not all," Violet stepped forward, briefly sharing contact with Tate. She took another drag of her cigarette as the boy looked over his shoulder. He saw what once was his, diminish behind the smoke. It was all his fault. His lifeless heart ached for hers, and although being as stubborn and misleading as ever, Violets did too. She turned her head to look away from his captivating stare, "Her nose and eyes were too. Fucking mental.”

"Fucking wicked" Tate gasped as he looked at Arden struggling to wipe the blood from the four holes it came dripping down.

“You two aren’t like anyone Ive met. It’s like don’t belong here but you do in a way..” Arden trailed off as she pressed a tissue to wipe and absorb the blood the best she could.

“So you noticed?” Tate asked the girl with a small smirk. Violet gave him a look powerful enough to kill. She shook her head back and forth taking a hit of her cigarette for the hundredth time it seemed. Arden closed her eyes from the smoke. She didn’t want to have another flash. She’s experienced them before but not as triggering as the ones in this house. The house harnessed negative energy. She could feel the pain embodied in her as if it were attached to her soul. It seemed quiet in the room. Still air and white noise from the curling fan were heard. Not even breathing from the two teenagers in her room. Her eyes opened to find lingering smoke and the two gone.

° :. *₊ ° . ☆✮　 °:.*₊ ° . ° . •

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docholligay · 6 years ago

Text

By The Better Angels

A release from the Patreon vaults! Me on my Crystal Tokyo shit! Some of you love it, some of you hate it, but much like a dandelion, it will come every season.

This was Rachelle's prompt! This has been a really interesting thing to write for me--it's been rewarding, it's been frustrating, this fic so desperately did not want to be written, like yanking a thistle root. But I FINALLY MADE IT, and there are parts of it I really think are quite nice. I would love to hear what you think! Thank you!! approx 4,400 words.

The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature--Abraham Lincoln.

Loyalty.

It was what the moon had been built upon, all those years ago, and the palace of the Crystal Kingdom glistened in the sunlight, throwing daggers of light onto the gardens and into the eyes of those who might pass by and challenge it directly, and in the wind, Michiru could hear the word rise again.

Rei was wise and Rei could See and Rei was a fool, and all of her assurances and protests that Usagi was Usagi, and so there was nothing to fear, were the mutterings of a self-blinded prophet who refused to hear the echo of the past off the walls.

That Usagi had brought the world under her government, for whatever reason, was sign enough that Serenity lived in her, willing to bring an entire world to heel. That she was happy for them to call her queen.

Michiru picked at the raiments of her formal uniform, stiff and odd at her throat. Military, almost.

She was here to accept the assignment as the Commissioner of the Former Europe, if scuttlebutt was to be believed, and there was no reason not to--even in this new world, Michiru still slid herself easily into gossip and rumor, where people would confess things to her without ever knowing quite why.

It was meant to be an honor, to rule under the Queen, to have an entire continent at her beck and call. Ami had received the Former North America not two weeks ago, and Mako the South, and Mina was expected to be awarded the former Asia after her work on the uprising in Korea. But, like many things that were pressed upon Michiru that were meant to be desirable, she wanted nothing of it.

Usagi had always been selfish, at her worst, and there is nothing that brings out the worst in people quite as well as being royalty. Michiru would know that better than anyone, raised to be quite the little princess herself, and it had created something rotten in her, something spoiled and petty and small.

And she never even had a military backing her.

“The world’s at peace.” Rei had said it with an air of uncertainty, as if she did not quite believe it herself. “There’s no more war.” She had jutted out her chin, then, daring Michiru to argue with her.

But the absence of war was not peace, as Michiru saw it, and in the days passing Usagi’s full receipt of the Crystal’s power, it was true enough that entire cadres of weapons were destroyed, and that no one raised an arm against each other in this bright new world, but when one is not left with even the ploughshares to beat back into swords, revolution is slow in coming.

And she had her Commissioners now, to quell any uprisings, and her white dress stayed unmarred in the Crystal Palace.

She pulled her documents out of her pocket, all the same now, with little indication of what one’s country might have been previously other than the line that indicated languages spoken. And that, too, was changing in this world, as all schools were teaching Japanese--Usagi had never taken to English, and Serenity had no intention of learning, even after Commissioner Mizuno had advised it was the path of least resistance due to wide current global knowledge, if she sought a single tongue--and all official business took place in the same.

Michiru Kaioh looked at her picture, with the faraway and empty eyes, and felt a pang. As much as she sat in this beautiful garden, built and irrigated off the labor of others, dwelling on the slow slide of this world into complete monarchical nonsense, she knew she had her own part in it. There were no angels in the Crystal Empire.

She had fought what was called ‘valiantly’ at some ridiculous medal ceremony, where Mamoru had droned on and on in the way Michiru had never grown to find amusing, just another man who enjoyed his own soliloquy. She had charged into battle in a way that would have made Haruka proud. She had put herself in danger to protect her queen and the future.

That was a lie, it was too pure and touched too much of that word loyalty to be true.

She had been trying to get herself killed.

___

The sky was broken open like a shattered bowl, the black leaking through the dissipating bright blue, starless, moonless, draining toward the earth in slow and syrupy droops, and Haruka’s mouth fell open.

They had seen so much in their time in battle, and yet, in this moment, it felt as if they had seen nothing at all.

“What is that?” Haruka asked quietly, as if Michiru, as always, would know.

Michiru’s eyes closed for a moment, one long blink that returned her to all the dreams she had been having over the months, all the destruction she knew would come.

“We will prevail,” she replied, in her half-truth, having seen so many outcomes where Usagi rose triumphant, “and this will be the last of it.”

For a woman who was rarely sure of many things--futures as far out as she saw them twisted and moved and changed in the wind--this she knew for certain. Whether they won or lost today, the battles would cease on the galaxical stage. This was a defining moment, in so many ways,for all of them.

Haruka grinned. “Of course. Then we’ll get started on that family, huh?”

“Usagi will be tested as well,” Michiru added, afraid to respond to Haruka’s softly lilting joy, “we all will.”

Haruka took her hand. “I know you don’t love Usagi, but she’s always come through for us. She’s more than just...what new queen old queen thing she’s supposed to be. She more than just the princess. She’s Usagi.”

Michiru squeezed her hand. “I certainly hope you are correct.”

___

Her mind shifted, sometimes, like watercolors one over the other, creating some new shade that she not quite know.

Usag cried less, these days, and while she was certain that was a good thing--and anyhow wasn’t there so much less to cry about now?--it was unsettling to have someone criticize her, hate her even, and not feel moved to tears.

Perhaps this was all a part of growing up.

This was her destiny, and she had latched to it and set her life by it, and if the stars had said it was destiny, than how could it be wrong? And besides, she assured herself, she had helped so many people by bringing them peace, by uniting the world as one. Coming together, that was the beauty of the world she had created, and her palace showed it.

The finest marble from what had been Italy, crystal polished to a shine in the country that had once been Brazil, gold leaf from the former China, and those were only the very beginnings of the building. She had imported artisans from all shores to show their loyalty to their new kingdom by contributing to the palace.

Today’s parade and ceremony would be the same, combining so many elements of the lands that she now served, because, the voice in her head reasoned in its whisper, she was serving them, by taking the difficulty of rule, and bringing them to the palace.

It would be mostly things of those areas that Michiru now looked over, but there would always be a thing or two else that Usagi had discovered a fondness for, some French pastries, Swiss Chocolate.

Her mind shifted again, and she thought of Michiru, and how sad she would be, with Haruka gone, and how seeing the rest of her girls would only remind her of the space that was empty in the assembled line. Maybe she would have the cake be champagne, the light cake Michiru favored, with soft lines of cream and rose.

“I can’t,” she said aloud, to no one in particular, “I already ordered chocolate and strawberry.”

“What?” Rei turned to her, her black hair gliding like a veil around her shoulder.

She had forgotten Rei was there.

“I was thinking about the Michiru’s ceremony today,” she fiddled nervously, “I should have done better with the cake, but I ordered the wrong cake.”

“You ordered your favorite.” Rei replied.

___

The rocks tingled with the force of the power that struck them, and Michiru felt that same tingle go up her spine, triggering a memory instead of fear. Fear was of no use now, here at the end or the beginning of everything.

“Do you recall the first time we danced?” Michiru looked at Haruka, the rock crumble falling around them.

Haruka glanced over at her with a disbelieving grin. “Right now, Michi?”

“So you do not.” She teased, smiling back.

“‘Course I do,” another strike hit, “in your living room.”

Michiru had often teased that Haruka was the angel of her better nature, and Haruka pretended to understand it better than she did. She looked the part now, the mica of the stone settling into her ash hair, her shoulders and strands glittering like a tapestry on a church wall.

“You were so uncertain.” Michiru touched her arm gently, the world falling down around them but away from their love.

Haruka chuckled. “How was I gonna know how to waltz? Didn’t do that a lot.”

“You were quite natural, I must say.”

Michiru looked at her, at her soft grey eyes, and was immediately swept back to that day, to how nervous she had been, how she had taken Michiru’s hand shakily, but when she touched Michiru’s back, it was electric. She had never felt anything quite so alive, not since she was a child.

Haruka put her hand on Michiru’s.

“May I have this dance?”

____

The fire was quiet, and this disturbed Rei the most. That things should be odd otherwise, with the world being reorganized, made sense, but that the fire only mumbled and murmured to her, babbling like a brook in indistinct words, this concerned her.

And so, she told no one.

It wasn’t concealment, she swore to herself. It was a simple matter of having no one to tell, no one with the clearance and the need to know, no one she could trust that would understand.

Michiru was so distant. She spoke to Rei in small, short sentences, and Rei told herself this was because she had lost Haruka, and it had hurt her so deeply. Her unhappiness with the kingdom lay in the fact that Haruka was no longer in it.

Michiru would never forgive Usagi, because Haruka had died for her. This Rei knew, and that this was the source of Michiru’s distance and criticism Rei was sure.

She knew that, even as the fire gave no reply to the question.

The world was stable now, and no one could deny this was true. How else was it supposed to be done? She felt a small, slow sizzle rise in her, but she could not make out the words in the steam, the smoke of her own self-assured and silent fire rising around it.

She looked out the window and over the palace gardens, down where Michiru sat, doodling in a notebook thoughtfully. There was a time they would have been together. There was a time Rei would have been taking tea with Michiru, as they waited, and Mina would have teased Rei in that way that was barely teasing, and Rei would have smelled the oversweet and too bright peach of Mina’s hair as she moved.

She had not smelled it since that night in the tent, lost and scarred and trying to feel alive.

Mina had left. Rei stayed.

Our loyalties are funny things, and Rei could not leave Usagi, even when she insisted on being called Queen Serenity, even when she looked over the map of the world and saw it all covered in one color, one land, one country, and even when there was a whisper in the back of her mind that it may be an imperfect peace.

It wasn’t a whisper, it was a scream. But the fire never screamed, just stayed silent, gazing at her from across the room, refusing to tell her what she refused to know.

___

Battles are too loud, and battles are too quiet, and Michiru had always resented the duality of these feelings.

She looked for Haruka, her eyes scanning the battlefield as the enemies surrounded her. They would win this day. That was assured. She and Haruka had chosen to fight, and so fact and fate became one.

Not everything else was.

Not the things Michiru truly wanted to know.

She cut her way through whatever rose up in front of her, and they may have been enemies, and they may have been friends, but none of them were Haruka, and Haruka was the only god she sought, the only thing in which she still had faith, and that faith carried her heart, even as she felt a copper taste at the very edge of her mouth.

Even as she saw the bright gold announcement of the attack hit the sky, saw it lay waste to the large corp, falling like dominos at a children’s table, and even as she saw it stop, and flicker, and collapse in on itself.

The faith preserved. The foolish hope, taken from her lips and given to Michiru’s, that it was the light of an announcing angel, heralding not just any victory, but hers.

Michiru bit her lip harder, and the bright tin taste filled her mouth.

___

There are angels, it is written.

There are angels, it is painted, in sweet and dulcet tones, and these are the angels the world imagines, curls of soft golden and rose hair around soft and rosebud mouths, smiling beatifically at the humans they serve.

There are angels, it is sung, with rich and joyful voices raised to heaven, a perfect chorus, each one supporting the other, welcoming and warming the children of God on earth, waiting for the day when they return to the holiest realms.

But Michiru had seen how the stories got twisted, and the way a soldier could become soft and warm in the right concert hall, the right oils. She went back to the beginning. Back to where something terrible and beautiful was born, and so she knew that an angel was no soft womanly creature, gently guiding, but she was a flaming creature of wings and eyes, who brought a sword of fire to the land.

Angels, you see, come in many forms.

She had reflected upon this as she readied for the banquet, as she heard Haruka, softly, asking her to be an angel, asking her to protect Usagi.

Haruka had once accused her of being unfair, but Michiru could in no way match Haruka’s cruelty in leaving her here, asking Michiru to protect that which took Haruka from her.

She touched the gold rings at her neck, one plain as brass, the other decorated in a slight herringbone that Haruka had called, “just enough flair.”

What a cruel girl.

But she would do it. She had pulled Haruka into the whirlwind of their lives, two sparrows in a hurricane of fate, all those years ago, and simply because she had wanted Haruka, a thing her parents could not buy her, and it was a deserved punishment that she loved Haruka so desperately, and that she was forced to watch Haruka’s life as a senshi.

And so she pulled on a golden breastplate, engraved with rich detailing, as if one lace had been woven into the metal, details in silvers and rose golds. It shone magnificently in the light, as she knew it would. It was made for this day, and she had described lovingly to the man who made it how she would wear it for all official state functions and so it must be the brightest shine that could be achieved.

Usagi would pay for it, she knew, the hiccups between world reigns nothing more than moving from a member of the Kaioh court to Serenity’s, though courtly manners were few in Usagi’s first court.

She was learning, though. Or unlearning. Michiru was not sure which way she preferred the phrase, when the results were the same.

The dagger she now carried was not the chipped and tarnished thing that had accompanied her in her senshi life--their uniforms, their bodies, had always healed, but the weapons held the scars--but a new gift, given after the wars and the ascension of the crystal, sharp as the night and glittering.

A worn and dented sword lay in the corner, no replacement meant for it. No one to replace it for.

____

The wind whistled by her, low and tuneless and nothing of the song she had known in Haruka’s.

The wind. It had been silly, Haruka’s insistence on her element, so desired before she knew her own power, wanting only to be the thing that moves the sea.

Haruka did not understand that the wind caused a wave, but the earth brought forth a tsunami.

Michiru understood. Something deep in her moved, with Haruka at her side, something powerful and dangerous.

Michiru has Seen this sign in the sky before, and Michiru is no one’s fool, and Michiru knows what it must mean.

But the heart and the mind and the mouth can all speak different languages, and Michiru ear refused to recognize any of them, and she ran.

____

Sometimes Usagi did not recognize her own voice, and her mouth offered edicts that her heart did not understand.

And yet, they were not foreign. She had heard, of course, that there was something inside her that was her and was not her, and she had seen the Senshi wrestle with the same, whether they considered it a monster or a gift or barely saw it at all.

She was meant to be queen. This had always been her destiny. Whatever Usagi Tsukino had been, she was born to be something else. She had married Mamoru, and spurned Seiya, for that had been foretold. The crystal was her future and the siren song, and that made it beautiful, didn’t it?

Destiny was beautiful. To be a princess, a queen, was a dream.

And yet the happenings of this world unsettled her, even as she was the one who turned the world, and thing that unsettled her the most was the sense of discord inside of her, like water in the bottom of a boat, sloshing back and forth, listing her to one side and then the other.

And for now, she was as Usagi Tsukino as she had ever been, and her mind turned to the cake she had ordered, the cake that was her favorite. She hadn’t meant to do that, she had meant to order that light, frothy sort of thing that Michiru liked.

But Usagi had wanted chocolate and strawberry, hadn’t she?

And you are the queen, a voice from far away and very near said, and the people love you. And they love what you love.

That the senshi loved her and chose to protect her and be with her was a constant reassurance in her head. She was their family, and always had been, wasn’t she?

Yes, Usagi Tsukino had only ever brought light to the lives of her lonely senshi, and though it felt uncomfortable, she was doing the same to the world now. It was hard, when you started out with something different, something that called you to be something better. She had cried when she fought her first battles. And some of her last.

That would be a good thing to bring into the speech, that she had cried, like them, like the people, but Michiru was resolute, Michiru kept her eyes forward. Serenity was only their queen, who could only understand them, and she set people like Michiru to be the real leaders.

They were the ones with force.

She didn’t feel like crying much, these days, even when Rei looked at her in a way that might have seemed strange once upon a time, even when she noted that her senshi stayed to their assigned posts and rarely came to the palace.

Well, yes, why would they come to the palace? The senshi were only ever born to execute your vision.

Her vision. Usagi had a vision for the world, and that vision was coming true, a vision where all were educated in the ways of the Crystal Kingdom, where everyone could have Japanese as the language, where everyone got New Year’s off, so they could celebrate the most important holiday with their families, a place where the world could be as it always should have been, the kingdom of the moon brought to earth, finally, with her and Endymion.

Usagi opened her mouth and Serenity called for the guards, drawing another edict from her mind, as a wave passed over the vessel that was one person and two of them at once, rocking it back into the darkness.

___

A light in the sky led to an angel, in the stories, but all Michiru saw, in the grim gloaming was a pale and still creature, lying on the ground, carved from the light that had brought her, red too-bright and gauche against it.

The Seeing showed what might be, a mirror only, and it was not the architect of the world, and yet Michiru hated it still.

Her knees hit the ground next to Haruka--she would know this only later, looking at the bruises on them, for in that moment she felt nothing at all but a tear beginning where her heart should be.

Haruka breathed, not yet dead, her eyes wavering as she looked up at Michiru, the self-styled king of the sky now beneath it all, back to the earth where she truly belonged, and spoke.

____

Haruka’s statue gazed down at her as she was walked into the fine court, laden with gold and silver woven silks, streaming down the sides of the palace walls, sourced from lands that had once had names of their own, written in scripts that curved and moved with the words, blocked in now by the stroke of the Crystal Kingdom and all its official language. The table itself sang tribute to the kingdom, the dishware pure and glittering under the opened skylights, as if eating off spring water, cold and clean.

But Michiru’s eyes stayed on the statue as she passed, knowing that she could look at it as long as she desired with little question from anyone in the court. She was appreciating what Serenity had done, they said, making that statue as tribute for her fallen lover, which was always how they put it, as sculpted and inhuman as the statue itself.

For they had gotten her wrong, too, in the statue. Though maybe in those early days she would have enjoyed being seen that way, resolute and stone, but Michiru had loved her too long, and however much Haruka might have wanted to be remembered as a soldier, Michiru could only remember the girl, who had a tough shell and a tender heart, who took life personally and gave herself no grace, who fed the squirrels and whose hair tossed in the wind when she laughed.

Theirs was the love of legends, and like all legends, it had been polished and made in the ways that served the tale, and there was nothing of thunderstorms under the covers, sharing a cup of tea, nothing of teasing Haruka over some silly dramatics, just a carved and chipped and utterly wrong story of two soldiers.

But she would keep a promise to Haruka today. That part of the story was true.

Michiru stood at Serenity’s side, smiling and clapping politely, the sheen of her gold and teal armor bright under the lights, nearly blinding all who looked at her.

Which was precisely what she had intended.

The spark of discontent in this world shall not become a flame, my love.

“Sailor Neptune, who served so valiantly and ensured our kingdom,”

All shall remember Usagi as the girl who was, and not as the Queen she is becoming.

“I hope, in the name of the Moon, you will accept this commission,”

Let your memory guide me. Cast my selfishness aside, Haruka, my love.

“Over the lands formerly known as the European continent, now united under the Crystal Kingdom,”

The angel of my better nature.

Michiru moved quickly, in ways she had not since that day in battle, grown languid and pale like the bright white flowers that grew in Serenity’s garden, giving rich perfume, rich enough to hide the iron scent of blood. But the flush was in her cheek now, and the speed, and her hand moved to her dagger at her belt quickly, whirling it into a grip in her hand, and she plunged it through Serenity’s back, and hit Usagi’s heart.

There was barely a cry before Michiru felt her own back pierced by the smooth and seductive touch of an arrow through her, running a slender and steel rod through both she and Usagi, binding them both together as they had been from the first.

“Michiru, you gotta do one thing.”

“Haruka, my love, hush--”

“No, you gotta, you gotta be loyal to Usagi, I--you.”

“Haruka...” She stroked Haruka’s hair, angry already with Usagi, angry at the Crystal Kingdom that rose on the horizon, angry with the promise Haruka was going to force her to make.

“Please, Michiru.” Her eyes were bright even as the rest of her was fading, the last bloom on a rose bush in winter.

And she could not deny her.

“The angel on my shoulder,” She kissed Haruka softly, “I will protect Usagi. From all things.”

She had held Haruka, and Haruka had died, and a promise made was a promise kept. Usagi was safe now, from the tyrant that was born inside of her, the slowly growing crystal that was inside of them all, watching and waiting to become.

Michiru looked back up at the court, that last bloom of Michiru’s faraway memory bright cherry on her lips now, and murmured one last edict to the Crystal Kingdom.

“Loyalty.”

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 5 years ago

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The Sun Still Rises

Knowledge chooses its project, each project is new and chooses its moments, each moment is new, but simultaneously emerges from the memory of all the moments that existed before

— The Interior of the Absolute

1. The Beginning

The Fire Cells Conspiracy revolutionary organization didn’t begin its activity from out of nowhere. It wasn’t as if a straight line had cut through space and time. It was a future crying out from the past. The Conspiracy comprised a collective synthesis, connecting the backgrounds and viewpoints of all who participated in it and drawing valuable conclusions from past experiences of subversive projects and attacks we took part in.

It represented our desire to take a step further, not to climb some ladder of informal hierarchy that fetishizes violence and its methods, but to simply advance, move forward, and explore new perspectives, making the shift from a “bunch of friends” to an organization, from the sporadic to the consistent, from the spontaneous to the strategic.

Along the way, we assumed a critical stance toward the past, but we never went out of our way to be hostile. We are anarchy’s misfits, born from its potent moments and gaping voids. Additionally, the goal of critique and self-critique is not to put an end to something, but just the opposite: it’s an aspiration to evolve something. The fact that we’re not going to elaborate a corresponding critical review right now doesn’t mean we’re afraid to recognize our mistakes. Rather, it’s because that kind of examination is better served by distance and cool nerves than by impulse.

During no phase of our brief, intense history did we lose our collective memory of the anarchist milieu we come from. We also feel we discovered something we have in common with comrades who began the struggle before us, engaged in their own battles, were arrested and imprisoned, but never lowered their heads. We discovered the unrepentant passion for revolution that connects histories and realities of struggle from different decades in a shared context of individual and collective liberation.

In that context, we forged our own alphabet. Speaking the language of direct action, we openly raised the issue of creating organized infrastructure. As anarchists, we often distance ourselves from the concept of organization because we equate it with hierarchy, roles, specialization, “you must,” and obligations. However, words acquire the meanings given by the people who use them. As the Fire Cells Conspiracy, we stormed into battle over the meaning of revolutionary anarchist organization.

2. The Path from Spark to Flame

From the very beginning, we rejected the idea of a centralist model and chose to start from the basis of individual initiatives that wanted to collectivize. What emerged during organizational meetings were issues of coherence, consistency, individual and collective responsibility, and direct action as a means of transforming our words into deeds. At group meetings, each comrade had the opportunity to propose a plan of attack, thereby opening up a debate on planning, timing, political analysis, and operational problems posed by a given target’s location. During these discussions, there was no guarantee that we would reach agreement. Opposing arguments sometimes developed into a powerful dialectic, especially regarding the strategy and prioritization of timing, and quite often there was more than one proposal, so we then had to choose which we were going to select and which we were going to keep in “storage” to be refined in the future. It was a process that allowed us to open our minds; broaden our horizons; learn from one another’s different experiences; vigorously defend our opinions; figure out how to recognize our mistakes; understand the concept of shaping something together; become conscious of the need for strategy; and — most important of all — create relationships not in the name of some “professional” revolutionary goal, but based on friendship, true comradeship, and real solidarity.

We love what we do because it contains our entire essence. Therefore, the “Conspiracy” isn’t just all of us together, it’s also each one of us apart. Even in cases when there wasn’t collective agreement on a particular action, we didn’t resort to “begging” from the prevailing democratic majority. Instead, the minority of comrades who insisted on carrying out the attack took the autonomous initiative to move forward with their choice. That happened in parallel with the rest of the collective, which supported them at specific times if necessary, naturally playing a part in our overall organization.

That’s why a number of communiqués were signed by groups (Nihilist Faction, Breath of Terror Commando, Terrorist Guerrilla Unit) that arose out of each separate initiative. During the second phase, after reaching agreement, whether as the entire collective or as a separate initiative, we planned the attack. Each one of us contributed our knowledge; information was culled from newspapers, magazines, and the Internet; the area where the action was to take place was reconnoitered and mapped; the approach to and withdrawal from the target was laid out (avoiding cameras and police checkpoints), including alternate routes in case something unexpected happened, and of course keeping in mind the eventuality of a confrontation with the pigs. There were also support groups, “hideouts,” ways of asking for help, etc. (In a future manual, we will analyze and explain our experiences, which are related to how we perceive what is going on while an attack is being carried out.)

During the third phase (which was never far removed from the initial proposal about target selection), we worked on the text of the communiqué. When a topic was suggested (for example, attacking the police), the comrade who made the proposal argued for its content. Then a discussion began, during which each person fleshed out the concept, expressed disagreements, pointed out problems, and offered other ways to approach the topic. As soon as the debate finished, no matter how many meetings were needed to finish it, the collective brought together the central themes of all the meetings and shaped the main axes around which the communiqué would be written. The writing of a communiqué on a specific topic was usually shared out among those who wanted the responsibility, and after it was written, we got together to read it and make corrections, additions, and final touches. If the communiqué was connected to a separate initiative, then the comrades involved in that separate initiative were responsible for writing it.

The same process held for our Thessaloniki comrades, and when we collaborated as the Athens-Thessaloniki Fire Cells Conspiracy, comrades from both cities coordinated those actions based on principles of mutual aid and comradeship.

3. “Everyone Does Everything”

Of course, we’re well aware of the dangers lurking within each collective project that aspires to call itself antiauthoritarian — the appearance of informal hegemony and the reproduction of corrupt behavior, of which we are enemies. We feel that the purpose of power is to divide. To eliminate the possibility of the emergence of any informal hierarchy within our group, we struck directly at the heart of specialization and roles as soon as they surfaced. We said: “Everyone does everything.” Everyone can learn and devise ways to steal cars and motorcycles, fabricate license plates, forge ID cards and official documents, expropriate goods and money, target-shoot, and use firearms and explosives.

Therefore, it was and continues to be important to us that the means and methods we use for our actions be straightforward and relatively simple to obtain and prepare, allowing them to spread and be used by anyone who decides to move toward the new urban guerrilla warfare. These include gasoline, jerry cans, camping gas canisters, and candles that can easily be obtained at a supermarket, but also improvised timing mechanisms that — after the appropriate “research” in technical manuals and guides available on the Internet, plus a little innovative imagination — anyone is capable of fabricating.

We certainly aren’t forgetting that, while “everyone does everything,” each person also has their own separate abilities and personal inclinations, and it would be a mistake to gloss over those differences. With desire and mutual understanding as our guide, each of us undertook to do what we felt most capable of. For example, if someone was a good driver or a skillful thief, or perhaps had a knack for writing, that didn’t mean their creative abilities would be suppressed in the name of some false collective homogeneity. It was up to each comrade to offer their abilities and methodologies to the other comrades without making a “sacrifice” of their own participation, and it was even better if that happened in the broadest possible way, going beyond the narrow context of the collective and facilitating access by the entirety of the antiauthoritarian current — for example, through the publication of practical guides like those released by some German comrades, which contain a number of different ways to make explosive devices.

Additionally, our actions never involved fixed, immutable roles. Without resorting to the cyclical rotation of tasks, which recall compulsory work hours, all the comrades took advantage of a common foundation that allowed them to be able to execute any task at any time during an attack. The process of improving your ability to use materials and techniques is naturally a continual process of self-education. Along those lines, we want to emphasize how crucial it is to simultaneously develop a group’s operational capacity as well as its revolutionary viewpoint. At no point should the level of sterile operational capacity intensify without a corresponding intensification of thought and discourse, and the same obviously holds true for the converse. We had no central committee to designate roles. There were only particular tasks within a specific plan — positions that changed according to the desires of the comrades who took part.

4. Guerrillas for Life

We’ve always felt that an organization doesn’t necessarily have to be exclusive to the comrades who are part of it. Our action neither begins nor ends within the context of the group. The group is the means to revolution, not an end in itself. Because when the means become their own raison d’être, “diseases” begin to appear, like vanguardism, the armed party, and exclusive orthodox truth.

Through the Fire Cells Conspiracy, we say what we believe in, who we are, and what tendency we represent, but in no way do we say that someone has to precisely follow some so-called correct line or participate in our group in order to be recognized as a comrade.

Thus, we ourselves have also taken part in processes apart from the Conspiracy, like joining coordinated action networks, attending assemblies, participating in marches and demonstrations, supporting attacks and acts of sabotage, putting up posters, and painting slogans. But we never thought one thing was superior to another. That’s because the polymorphism of revolutionary war consists of an open and permanent commitment that has nothing to do with fetishized spectacle (embracing armed struggle as the only thing that matters) or accusatory fixations (insisting on the quantitative characteristic of “massiveness” as the criterion for revolutionary authenticity). On the contrary, we position ourselves as enemies directly against the “polymorphism” of café gossip, speeches in university auditoriums, leadership roles, followers, and all those conservative fossils of dogmatism and habit that act as parasites within the anarchist milieu, wanting only to control young comrades, sabotage them, and prevent them from creating their own autonomous evolutionary path through the revolutionary process.

We believe that the concept of the anarchist urban guerrilla isn’t a separate identity one assumes only while engaging in armed attack. Rather, we feel it’s a matter of merging each person’s private and public life in the context of total liberation. We aren’t anarchists only when we throw a Molotov at a riot police van, carry out expropriations, or plant an explosive device. We’re also anarchists when we talk to our friends, take care of our comrades, have fun, and fall in love.

We aren’t enlisted soldiers whose duty is revolution. We are guerrillas of pleasure who view the connection between rebellion and life as a prerequisite for taking action. We don’t believe in any “correct line” to follow. During the past two years, for example, new urban guerrilla groups frequently posed the issue of robberies and expropriations from the banking machinery as yet another attack on the system. Their communiqués and claims of responsibility are powerful propaganda for the rejection of work via holdups and robberies directed at the belly of the capitalist beast — the banks — with the goal being individual liberation from the eight-hour blackmail of wage-slavery on the one hand, and collective appropriation of and direct access to money for infrastructural needs and revolutionary projects on the other.

We are exiting the scene of urban guerrilla warfare’s past ethical fixations, which rarely took a public position on the issue of revolutionary bank robbery. We feel that there is now plenty of new urban guerrilla discourse and practice that opposes — in a clearly attacking way — the bosses’ work ethic as well as the predatory banking machinery, proposing armed expropriation as a liberatory act, and obviously not as a way to get rich.

Nevertheless, we don’t consider the expropriation of banks to be a prerequisite for someone’s participation in the new guerrilla war. There is one revolution, but there are thousands of ways in which one can take revolutionary action. Other comrades might choose to carry out collective expropriations from the temples of consumerism (supermarkets, shopping malls) in order to individually recover what’s been “stolen” and use those things to meet each person’s material needs, thereby avoiding having to say “good morning” to a boss or take orders from some superior. Still others might participate in grassroots unions, keeping their conscience honed — like a sharp knife — for the war that finally abolishes every form of work that enriches the bosses while impoverishing our dignity.

We feel the same way about voluntarily “disappearing” to go underground. The fetishization of illegalism doesn’t inspire us. We want everyone to act in accordance with their needs and desires. Each choice naturally has its own qualities and virtues as well as its disadvantages. It’s true that when a group voluntarily chooses to go underground (“disappearance” from the environment of family and friends, false papers, etc.), that certainly shields them from the eyes of the enemy. But at the same time, their social connection to the wider radical milieu is cut, and to a certain point they lose a sense of interaction. Of course, the same doesn’t apply when there are objective reasons for going underground (arrest warrants, a price on one’s head), in which case clandestinity is the attacking refuge of those caught in the crosshairs of the law. This creates a parallel need for the existence of support infrastructure, both among guerrilla groups themselves as well as within the wider antiauthoritarian milieu, that will “cover” the tracks of wanted comrades. Prerequisites would be a certain complicity and discretion, which concepts are frequently seen as “outdated” but in our opinion should once again be launched piercingly into battle. If comrades from a guerrilla group engage in regular above-ground interaction — participating in movement meetings and processes, taking part in debates, and creating projects with others that address shared concerns — then the hermetic nature of the guerrilla group should clearly be protected from open ears and big mouths. Therefore, it’s general attitude also must be one of discretion in order to circumvent the deafening exaggerations that can turn it into a “magnet” for bastards from antiterrorist squads and the police. Taking a page from our own self-critique, we must mention the fact that many of us behaved completely opposite to the above, which — along with the viciousness of certain conduct originating within the anarchist milieu — “guided” a number of police operations right to us. In any case, self-critique lays down solid ground from which to develop oneself and offer explanations, but the current text isn’t appropriate for that. We’ll return to it in the future.

5. The First Phase of the Conspiracy and the Proposal for the “New Conspiracy”

The guerrilla has finally escaped the pages of books dealing with decades past and taken to the streets with ferocity. Because the urban guerrilla doesn’t offer utopian freedom. She allows access to immediate freedom. Accordingly, each person begins to define herself and liberate herself from society’s passivity.

There is now noise everywhere — the marvelous noise of widespread destruction — as well as the requisite revolutionary discourse to follow bombings against targets that serve domination. A determined armada of anarchist groups is setting fire to tranquility in the middle of the night, groups with names that reflect the “menu” they offer the system (in Athens: Deviant Behavior for the Spread of Revolutionary Terrorism, Warriors from the Abyss/Terrorist Complicity, Revolutionary Conscience Combatants, Lambros Fountas Guerrilla Formation; in Thessaloniki: Chaos Warriors, Attacking Solidarity Cell, Arson Attack Cell, Schemers for Nighttime Disorder, Fire to the Borders Cell, Combative Conscience Cell, Revolutionary Solidarity Cell, etc.). Many of these groups are also experimenting with a new international liberatory project as accomplices in the alliance known as the International Revolutionary Front/Informal Anarchist Federation.

Those of us who have taken responsibility as members of the Fire Cells Conspiracy are not intimidated by the dozens of years in prison the courts have in store for us. To begin with, we are creating an active collective inside prison.

We know that, for us, the opening phase of the struggle has been completed. However, we also know that nothing is over. The Conspiracy will not remain disarmed. It will continue to be a valid commitment in prison, as well as an open proposal to the antagonistic sector of the metropolis.

The Fire Cells Conspiracy proved itself as a network of cells, just like its name suggests. Right now, we’re not attempting to go over its operational record. We simply want to clarify its political perspective.

We feel that committing to a new Conspiracy most closely approaches the essence of the word, so we are opening up that possibility by making a proposal for a new Conspiracy comprising a diffuse, invisible network of cells that have no reason to meet in person, yet through their actions and discourse recognize one another as comrades in the same political crime: the subversion of Law and Order. This Conspiracy would consist of individuals and cells that take action, whether autonomous or coordinated (through call-outs and communiqués), without needing to agree on every single position and specific reference point (e.g., nihilism, individualism). Instead, they would connect on the basis of mutual aid focused on three key points.

The first point we are proposing in this informal debate is agreement on the choice of direct action using any means capable of damaging enemy infrastructure. Without any hierarchization of methods of violence, comrades can choose from rocks to Kalashnikovs. However, direct action on its own is just another entry on the police blotter, so it should be accompanied by a corresponding communiqué from the given cell or individual claiming responsibility and explaining the reasons behind the attack, thus spreading revolutionary discourse. The pen and the pistol are made from the same metal. Here, let’s note that the Conspiracy of the period that is now over never dismissed any incendiary method in its arsenal. It would be disingenuous of us if some young comrade thought that using the name of a new “Conspiracy” was conditioned by the use of supposedly superior methods (e.g., explosives). The new urban guerrilla warfare depends much less on operational methods than it does on our decision to attack power.

The second key point of agreement is to wage war against the state while simultaneously engaging in a pointed critique of society. Since we are revolutionary anarchists, we don’t just talk about the misfortune caused by power and the ruling oligarchy. We also exercise a more comprehensive critique of the way in which the oppressed accept and propagate the promises of happiness and consumerism offered by their bosses.

The fact that we engage in struggle against the state doesn’t mean we blind ourselves to the diffuse complex of power that administers contemporary interpersonal relationships. Antiauthoritarian discourse frequently alters and generalizes a concept like the state, relieving the rest of the people who constitute society of their responsibility. In doing so, it creates a sterilized viewpoint that treats entire social sectors as revolutionary subjects, whether called proletariat or oppressed, without revealing the individual responsibility each one of us assumes in the enslavement of our lives.

The state is not a fortress. You won’t find any door that leads you to some kind of machine or engine that can be turned off by throwing a switch. The state is not a monster you can kill with a stake through the heart. It’s something quite different. We could compare it to a system: a network comprising thousands of machines and switches. This network doesn’t impose itself on society from above. It spreads throughout society from within. It even extends to the sphere of private life, reaching into and touching our emotions at a cellular level. It molds conscience and is molded by it. It connects and unites society, which in turn nourishes and sanctifies it in a continuous exchange of values and standards. In this game, there are no spectators. Each one of us plays an active role.

— Costas Pappas, No Going Back

The enemy can be found in every mouth that speaks the language of domination. It is not exclusive to one or another race or social class. It doesn’t just consist of rulers and the whole potbellied suit-and-tie dictatorship. It is also the proletarian who aspires to be a boss, the oppressed whose mouth spits nationalist poison, the immigrant who glorifies life in western civilization but behaves like a little dictator among his own people, the prisoner who rats out others to the guards, every mentality that welcomes power, and every conscience that tolerates it.

We don’t believe in an ideology of victimization in which the state takes all the blame. The great empires weren’t just built on oppression. They were also built on the consent of the applauding masses in the timeless Roman arenas of every dictator. To us, the revolutionary subject is each one who liberates herself from the obligations of the present, questions the dominant order of things, and takes part in the criminal quest for freedom.

As the first phase of the Conspiracy, we have no interest in representing anyone, and we don’t take action in the name of any class or as defenders of “oppressed society.” The subject is us, because each rebel is a revolutionary subject in a revolution that always speaks in the first person to ultimately build a genuine collective “we.”

The third key point of agreement in our proposal regarding the formation of a new Conspiracy is international revolutionary solidarity. In truth, our desire to apply all of ourselves to creating moments of attack on the world order may cost some of us our lives, with many of us winding up in prison. “We” doesn’t refer to the Conspiracy or any other organization. It refers to every insurgent, whether they are part of a guerrilla group or taking action individually on their path to freedom. As the first phase of the Conspiracy, our desire and our proposal to every new cell is that the full force of revolutionary solidarity be expressed — a solidarity that cries out through texts, armed actions, attacks, and sabotage to reach the ears of persecuted and imprisoned comrades, no matter how far away they may be.

The solidarity we’re talking about doesn’t require those showing solidarity to express absolute political identification with the accused. It is simply a shared acknowledgment that we are on the same side of the barricades and that we recognize one another in the struggle, like another knife stuck in power’s gut. We therefore also propose support for the Informal Anarchist Federation/International Revolutionary Front, so that it can function — as demonstrated by the Italian FAI comrades — as an engine of propulsion.

From this point on, any comrade who agrees (obviously without having to identify herself) with these three key points of the informal agreement we are proposing can — if she wants — use the name Fire Cells Conspiracy in connection with the autonomous cell she is part of. Just like the Dutch comrades who, without us knowing one another personally but within the framework of consistency between discourse and practice, attacked the infrastructure of domination (arson and cyber attacks against Rabobank) and claimed responsibility as the Fire Cells Conspiracy (Dutch Cell).

We feel that a network of such cells, devoid of centralized structure, will be capable of far exceeding the limits of individual plans while exploring the real possibilities of revolutionary coordination among autonomous minority structures. These structures — without knowing one another personally — will in turn be able to organize arson and bombing campaigns throughout Greece, but also on an international level, communicating through their claims of responsibility.

Since we live in suspicious times, we should clarify something. Actions claimed using the Fire Cells Conspiracy name that aren’t consistent with any of the points we’ve laid out and don’t take the necessary precautions to prevent “damage” to anything other than the target of the sabotage will definitely arouse our suspicion, given the likelihood that they will have been hatched by the state.

Returning to our proposal, “anonymity” with regard to personal contact will reinforce the closed nature of the autonomous cells, making it more difficult for the police to “compromise” them. Even the arrest of one entire cell that forms part of the new Conspiracy wouldn’t lead the persecuting authorities to the other cells, thereby avoiding the well-known domino effects that took place in our time.

In the past, the fact that that we first-phase comrades may not have been involved in certain incidents never stopped us from publicly expressing our support or our critique, and the same applies to the present if new comrades choose to use the organization’s name. Without needing to know one another, through the communiqués that accompany attacks we can begin an open debate on reflections and problems that, even if viewed through different lenses, are certainly focused on the same direction: revolution.

Consequently, we first-phase comrades are now assuming responsibility for the discourse we generate inside prison by signing as the Fire Cells Conspiracy, followed by our names.

The new “Conspiracy” will maintain and safeguard its customary independence, writing its own history of struggle. This significant continuation will surely connect the dots on the map of rebellion, sweeping them toward the final destination of revolution.

6. The Epilogue Has Yet to Be Written

Through our actions, we are propagating a revolution that touches us directly, while also contributing to the destruction of this bourgeois society. The goal is not just to tear down the idols of power, but to completely overturn current ideas about material pleasure and the hopes behind it.

We know our quest connects us to many other people around the world, and via this pamphlet we want to send them our warmest regards: the Fire Cells Conspiracy in the Netherlands; the FAI in Italy; the Práxedis G. Guerrero Autonomous Cells for Immediate Revolution and the ELF/ALF in Mexico; the ELF in Russia; the anarchists in Bristol, Argentina, and Turkey; the Autonome Gruppen in Germany; the September 8 Vengeance Commando in Chile; the comrades in Switzerland, Poland, Spain, and London; and everyone we’ve left out, wherever the rejection of this world is in bloom.

This text has no epilogue, because praxis will always continue to nourish and transform itself. We’re just making a quick stop, concluding with a few words someone once said:

It’s an astonishing moment when the attack on the world order is set in motion. Even at the very beginning — which was almost imperceptible — we already knew that very soon, no matter what happened, nothing would be the same as before. It’s a charge that starts slowly, quickens its pace, passes the point of no return, and irrevocably detonates what once seemed impregnable — so solid and protected, yet nevertheless destined to fall, demolished by strife and disorder... On this path of ours, many were killed or arrested, and some are still in enemy hands. Others strayed from the battle or were wounded, never to appear again. Still others lacked courage and retreated. But I must say that our group never wavered, even when it had to face the very heart of destruction.

— Fire Cells Conspiracy: Gerasimos Tsakalos, Olga Economidou, Haris Hatzimichelakis, Christos Tsakalos, Giorgos Nikolopoulos, Michalis Nikolopoulos, Damiano Bolano, Panayiotis Argyrou, Giorgos Polydoras

#greece #extinction rebellion #insurrectionary anarchism #nihilism #ccf

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narwhallove · 6 years ago

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Behind the Curtain: Interview with Romy Writer Ludi-Ling

House of Cards actually started out as a random smut scene that burgeoned into something far, far more.

@ludi-ling goes meta in our final interview about her writing process; how the Romy fandom’s changed over the years; alternate universes (AU); and the role of smut for Romy fans. (Spoiler alert, our heroes are hot.)

No surprise that it’s a pleasure interviewing Ludi. I kept sending her more questions (25 total!) because her responses fascinated me and inspired me to ask more. It’s a rare person who writes visceral, startling prose and can also talk about her work with clarity, intelligence, and an affection for her characters that doesn’t occlude good writerly judgment.

The superlatives don’t end there. Anyone who knows the community knows that Ludi is a friend to her readers and to her fellow writers. As we all enter a heady 2019, reading Mr. and Mrs. X together, Ludi is someone to cherish.

If you haven’t read our other interviews, please check out: Part 1 of interviews: X-men Origins Part 2 of interviews: Going Dark

As a scholar of fan studies, do you believe Romy fanfiction fulfills needs that Marvel never can? What needs might those be, for Romy fans?

Certainly I think that fanfic is built on the premise of filling in the gaps, scribbling in the margins (to quote the seminal fan studies scholar, Henry Jenkins!) and fixing perceived wrongs. Comics are unique in that regard because the characters and stories within them continue for years and even decades. Comics continuities are convoluted and complicated, and there is a constant churn of writers working on them. Many fans have followed characters for far longer than the writers, and may know the characters more intimately than the professionals. Comics are full of retcons and contradictory takes on the characters. And I think fanfic is an important medium for allowing fans to “fix” that, to negotiate it. Because of the ongoing nature of comics, and because the futures of the characters are always going to be nebulous and subject to the whims of Marvel and the writers indefinitely, I think it’s going to continue to be important. Romy may be married in the comics, but there will still be plenty to write about—kids, divorce, a reconciliation . . . who knows? ;)

What do you think Romy readers seek out when they read fanfiction? If it’s wish fulfillment, what kinds of wishes are being fulfilled? If it’s looking for “gaps” that the comics skip over, what have you found to be the most common sorts of gaps?

I think Romy is a very interesting example of the “wish fulfillment” function of fanfiction. Because part of the mystique of that ship (no pun intended) is that they can’t touch, they can’t consummate their relationship . . . And fanfic is a way that fans can get them to touch, to work out that angst. I think that one of the staples of Romy fic is the sexual tension between the two, and how they resolve that; the push and pull between them. Sometimes these take place in epic, superheroic backdrops, sometimes in AUs, where they have no mutant powers and where the tension between them is born from other factors (such as already having significant others, or being enemies, or in illicit lines of work).

What draws you to AUs? Your stories aren’t a case of fanfiction filling what’s “between panels”; you tend to shift characters and relationships to entirely different settings, whether it’s a Strange Days–like world or another genre, like a Southern gothic procedural. Can you talk about AUs and how they play out in your imagination?

What I’ve always liked is world-building. One of my first large-scale writing projects was a fantasy trilogy called The Legend of Elu. Most of the fun I got from that was actually building the world, the kingdoms, the mythology, the theology, the languages, the history of that story. That definitely bled into my fanfic.

Now I tend to write canon stuff as one-shots, and novel-length stuff as AUs, because they give me more space to play with world-building. That was something I realised I enjoyed more when I wrote Threads. Writing all those little worlds in a series of one-shots felt too “small.” HoC was originally an expansion of the Threads tale Touch and Go, but it grew into something else, and since then, I’ve preferred to go the AU route for the longer-form stories. :)

We’re living in peak Romy times—I think we’re still reeling from the wedding! Let’s say you had the power to go back in time and drop a pin into an earlier moment in the Romy timeline that you felt truly represents what Romy means to you (which isn’t the same as when they’re happiest!). When and in what universe? Why this choice?

There are so many iconic moments from Romy’s past, but, for me personally, I always go back to their time in Valle Soleada (in X-Treme X-Men). That’s not because they’re happy per se, but because I think that that period was the perfect example of how great they worked together on every level, and was proof positive that they were a good match. I often say it, but I will say it again here, because it’s the truth, and y’all can fight me to the death over it—if there was a time they would’ve got married and I would’ve bought it 100%, it would’ve been in Valle Soleada.

On Tumblr, it seems a large contingent of Romy fans are women in their 30s who discovered Romy at a tender age, thanks to the animated series. This includes you and me! There are exceptions, of course. What’s it like for you to have been in the fandom from the early aughts? What changes in the fandom have you noticed between 2003 and 2018?

I really joined the fandom at an exciting time for Romy—they’d just got back together properly after all the turmoil of the Trial of Gambit. X-Treme X-Men was a treat for Romy fans, and Claremont wrote such a great dynamic between them. As fans we were all excited and happy and well-fed on all that Romy goodness.

So it was weird (not to mention disappointing) when the 2004 reboot happened, and Marvel did everything they could to tank Romy. Which is one thing, and I can stomach it if [it were] logically and well written, but it was just so terribly done that I think many of us just tapped out of the fandom completely. I’d say 2005–2018 were fallow years for the Romy fandom. Most (if not all) of the fan friends I made at that time completely left the fandom. For myself, as someone who enjoys writing AUs, it was the perfect time to branch out from writing in canon and fitting Romy into my own world.

Who are your influences? What writers do you feel a particular affinity for? Are there writers whom we might be surprised to discover informed your work, but you feel have, despite appearances?

I was heavily influenced by the dark, modern fairytales of Angela Carter about the time that I was writing Queen of Diamonds and Threads. She had a really magical way with words—her prose was lyrical, sensual, and unbelievably rich. She was a huge inspiration, but later I moved away from her tone, firstly because I felt I was doing a poor imitation of her, secondly because it wasn’t really appropriate for the direction I wanted to move my fics in, and lastly because I was becoming self-conscious of my insane verbosity and wanted to pare down my prose. That’s something I’m still working on!

At some point during the writing of House of Cards, I finally got round to reading Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and I think it was Douglas Adams who convinced me to move away from Carter’s beautiful but too-flowery prose. I loved the way his narrative just sizzled. I’m bad at capturing that energy—but I do think that from HoC onwards, I’ve tried to learn to be more economical with my words—which is hard for a florid soul like mine.

Threads—structurally at least—was influenced by Italo Calvino’s If On a Winter’s Night a Traveller, and later, by David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas.

Let’s say you can pair your fiction with other works of art—of all forms, films, paintings, music, etc.—as if you were pairing wines to foods. What other pieces of art might you say go along with yours?

Wow! OK—that’s hard. Threads I’d probably pair with Cloud Atlas (the book, not the film, which I haven’t yet watched). HoC—I don’t know that there’s any one thing I would pair it with, but you can bet a load of post-apocalyptic stuff was thrown into that stew, along with a bit of The Matrix and probably some Inception.

52 Pickup was influenced a lot by Asmus’s Gambit run, cos I really wanted to write a heist fic with Remy and Rogue rather than Remy and Joelle (who I freely admit kicked ass). But if I had to pair it with a piece of media, it’d be with the video game Remember Me, which dealt a lot with themes of how memories inform our identities, and the ethical concerns of having memories essentially become “documents” that are uploaded and shared digitally through the cloud.

This is a good segue to talk about high-low culture. We may not want to believe in a hierarchy of culture, but we can certainly talk about the differences between fanfiction and “regular fiction.” When you read fanfiction, do you approach it differently than you would regular fiction? Are your expectations for form, reading pleasure, or anything else different? If so, how so?

Interesting question! I don’t know whether I approach it differently per se, but I think that readers have different expectations of fanfic. Hopefully we all read “regular fiction” for the same reason we read fanfic—for pleasure. But I don’t think there’s really a binary between regular and fanfiction. I think both exist on a continuum. There is a lot of “regular fiction” (I prefer to call it “profic” or “professional fiction,” because I think that’s where the binary between the two exists) that is actually very close to fanfic, and vice versa. By that I mean that there is plenty of fanfic that is epic in scope, deals with serious themes, and might be considered “classics” if they weren’t fanfiction.

And there is also profic, like romance, that is more similar to fanfic in terms of the kind of functions that it serves. There is an illicit pleasure to reading romance—for example, it’s not the kind of thing you’d openly read in public! There’s a similarity between that and fanfic, and I think, as readers of fanfic, we anticipate some level of illicitness when we approach it—even if the illicitness is only in the format (i.e., it’s fanfiction!), not in the content.

Fun question: What role do you think explicit smut functions in a fic? How do you deal with smut in your work? There’s an interesting moment that’s not in HoC, in which you write about Gambit and Rogue’s first time having sex in his point of view. It’s a separate chapter that exists as its own entity on your fanfiction.net page. Notably, it is much more explicit than the scene in Rogue’s perspective. Can you talk a little bit about this decision?

Well, I do think that fanfic is a safe space for writers to explore their sexuality (and I think that’s a huge part of the reason why fic is looked down upon), and smut plays a significant role in that. And smut certainly plays a part in my own fics. HoC actually started out as a random smut scene that burgeoned into something far, far more. Generally, I do try to make the sex scenes have a purpose in the plot (’cos I’m kind of anal about plot structure!), but in the particular case of Slow Burn and the other HoC vignettes, those are more self-contained one-shots where I could explore things that I couldn’t explore in the main story. So I could indulge in the smut a bit more! And let’s be honest—Gambit’s dark sexuality makes it thrilling to write smut from his perspective—of course his “thoughts” are going to be more explicit! ;)

But I also think that it’s interesting to write their individual perspectives on their sexual encounters, because of that tension between their characters. Rogue is the quintessential virginal Southern Baptist gal who’s inexperienced; whereas Gambit is the sexually aggressive alpha male who’s probably never had a woman turn him down in his life. That makes for a very combustive love affair between the two, and makes it fun to write that love affair (and all the smut in-between) from both their points of view.

#ludi-ling #fanfic #fanfiction #romy #rogue and gambit #house of cards #interview with author #interview with fanfic writer #fanfiction studies

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voicesfromthelight · 6 years ago

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On The Importance of Keeping Records of Readings

Today, I’d like to talk a little bit about the benefits of record-keeping and journaling in psychic work, and during psychic development. It’s a wide topic to address, but in particular, I’d like to approach it from the context of how hindsight can inform our understanding of our own reading process, and help us to grow our faith in our intuition.

Depending on what form one’s practice takes, keeping records of one’s readings can be a routine that fits quite easily into psychic work. However, many clairvoyant psychics and mediums find that they read best when they simply let readings flow through them, without the distraction of writing things down. Often, such professionals will either provide audio recordings of their readings, or give their clients the option of recording them themselves. In my case, since so much of the work I do is centered around language and the decoding of channeled shorthand, the very process of the reading itself provides me with detailed records of each one I complete. Whatever form of record-keeping one chooses to employ, I highly recommend documenting one’s readings (as well as any other psychic experiences and experiments) to anyone wishing to develop their intuitive skills.

Whether it is done for purposes of remembering events in one’s life, getting one’s thoughts down on the page, self-development, channeling, or as a creative practice, journaling is one of the best tools we have at our disposal to strengthen our mind-body-spirit connection, because it employs all of these faculties: We are inspired by our spirit, we analyze and develop the inspiration with our mind, and then physically write it down with our hands. Writing is a very basic form of manifesting spirit into matter! When we consciously apply this practice to psychic development, the alchemical and transformative properties of the practice become all the more strong. When we document our psychic experiences in the form of writing, not only does our mind increasingly focus itself on our intuition, therefore strengthening it, but we also have everything we need to keep track of our progress, figure out what works, and take full ownership over our psychic development. As we take stock of our accumulating successes, our trust in our own abilities grows stronger, establishing a positive feedback loop.

As a mediumistic channeler working with the written word, the records that I have kept of my spirit guides’ readings have become increasingly important as the guides have taken upon themselves to predict the future more frequently than before, in addition to providing other evidence in order to lend credibility to such predictions. (The latter has been especially important in cases in which predictions require urgent action despite not yet being apparent in the client’s current reality.) One thing that I’ve learned through it is that it is important to build up one’s trust in one’s intuition regardless of whether or not what we are receiving makes much sense in the present moment. (Any experienced medium will tell you this, but it’s one thing to know it intellectually, and another to feel it in your bones!) When we have records of everything we have brought through, we may discover important details in our readings that we barely payed attention to at the time they were done, therefore gaining new insights into how information is communicated to us in the first place.

I’ve recently been having an intense experience of the hindsight meticulous record-keeping can provide. My personal life has lately taken a new turn, in which I’ve been lucky enough to find myself re-engaging with former creative pursuits which have brought me into new communities, allowed me to form new relationships, and opened me up to great healing as well as enjoyment. As I was reviewing some older personal channelings a few days ago, I suddenly realized that the guides had described my current situation, and the energetic shift around it, in great detail, all the way back in February! (It is the very end of May at the time of writing this post.) These descriptions included some elements in the shorthand that seemed strange at the time, but now make perfect sense.

The more I have revisited that particular session in the past few days, the more details I have picked up on that are uncanny in their relevance. Much of the session centered around the main, current pursuit I am revisiting - Argentine tango dancing, and the enjoyment it gives me. However, on an unrelated note, the session mentions the arrival of a new, close friend, described as a “sister.” At the time of channeling, that particular passage seemed so removed from the rest of what was coming through, that I thought it was some Astral “party-crasher” interfering with the session, and attempted to dismiss it - at which point Natalie told me I was being unduly skittish about what I was receiving! However, now, upon realizing that the other elements of the reading have been establishing themselves as current, it has also dawned on me that I have indeed recently made a new best friend, of whom several people around us have commented that we share a sisterly resemblance. Yet another bit of advice was slipped into the reading to address issues with shortness of sleep I have been having with the onset of spring, in the form a solitary sentence: “Patient people sleep beautifully well.” The guides also provided me with ample advice on how to navigate my new social environment.

The real kicker is that back in February, I was too preoccupied with the painful aftermath of a broken relationship to have much faith my guides’ reassurances, or even pay much attention to their predictions. This, too, was acknowledged by the guides, who mentioned in the reading that the session would only be fully understood once an emotional shift allowed me to receive it. Now, seeing how right they were, and the care with which they anticipated the insight and support I would need at this time, my faith in them and their work has strengthened to ever greater heights. I am deeply grateful to them, and cannot wait to see how this increased confidence reflects on the quality of the readings I bring to my clients!

So, to make a long story short - keep records of your readings! Grow your faith in yourself and your spiritual helpers. Come up with new ways to use your documentation process to further your intuitive development. You have everything to gain!

#psychic #psychic readings #spiritual #spirit guides #channeled messages #psychic medium #mediumship #journaling #joy #healing #guidance #wisdom #psychic development

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haiky-u-lously · 7 years ago

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Just a little lie won’t kill ya. (2/6)

Warnings: Language...I think that’s it?

a/n: I do have a specific image in mind for what Alexander and Brock look like in this and if people want to know I can put that together. But seeing as the first chapter only got 6 notes (period) and three of them were from this blog itself, is kind of depressing. Oh, well. Carry on I guess. This is a bit longer than the first, but I’d claim they will all range on the high end-as do most of my things. Okay well, feedback/comments/concerns/ideas are all welcome.

Enjoy! --Admin Red

Chapter 1: Meeting

Chapter 2: The Names

____________________________

You woke to a very bad headache. Thinking, guess I didn’t drink enough water when I got home last night.

Thoughts drifting back to the night before, you found yourself smiling in contentment. Hanging out with everyone had been a valuable experience to have. And, having it occur so early into the year could only help as you maneuvered through your classes.

Making your way to your bathroom to prep for the day was easier said than done. In all your drunken wisdom you had flung off your clothes and shoes and the items laid in the way of the unlit path.

But, you survived and despite the initial shock that came from the bathroom light, managed to complete your morning routine without issue.

Luckily, you had just finished getting dressed when your roommate made her appearance.

“(F/N)!!” She screamed again, at just a slightly lower volume than the day prior.

You made a face but were happily surprised that the girl did not just phase through the doorway. “It’s all good, Kit.”

“Oh thank god.” She released, once again ignoring the boundaries of using the door. But, HEY! Progress. “Is that how it is for you all the time?” She asked, making her own visage a particular way turning to eyeball the door.

Laughing, you placed a hand on her small shoulder, “Well, yes. But normal people still use a door.”

She shuddered at the thought and the two of you found yourself laughing uncontrollably.

“Oh!” She jumped. “I almost forgot. Everyone from yesterday wants to get breakfast together, you good with that?”

You nodded in affirmation, “Sure, why not. I can always go for some food.”

_______________________

At breakfast you made note of a few things.

First, Tony had sat himself right next to you. Essentially taking your end-of-the-table seat. Okay, fine. You didn’t so much ‘notice’ this as much as had it happen to you. But, semantics.

Then you noticed that Steve Rogers and Brooklyn sat across from Tony and you respectively.

Sitting next to Brooklyn was Alexander, and Brock sat next to him. Both lost in a whispered conversation between themselves.

Rogue sat at the end most opposite Tony and looked like she was very uncomfortable in the position. You stood to go over and offer to switch with her.

“Hey, Rogue.” When Bobby did just that. Leaning over her frame, the Ice King whispered in her ear. She nodded a bit solemnly before making to shift positions.

After Bobby took her place, Rogue moved to sit across from him. Taking a place next to the beautifully accented Wanda. You just couldn’t get over it, really.

Between you and Wanda was Kitty. You saw her make a face when Bobby switched seats with Rogue but refused to believe she’d start up any high school aged drama when you all were so much older than that.

You found it extremely interesting that no one was sitting next to their ‘partners’ from the day prior. Also finding it sort of strange that there was still this divide between the mutants and the humans.

However, your train of thought was short lived as a speedster determined he’d mess with your table this bright and beautiful morning.

The streaking of silver a blue was nearly impossible to miss, but you could not make out the actual figure of the shape causing it.

That is until a bright red, near transparent wall appeared to trap the runner in their tracks.

“Oh! Come’n Wan’s.” The silver haired male cried out. Punching the wall to no avail. “Ya’ can’it take the fun out’ta the morning.”

Hearing him speak more, you realized the male’s accent matched the girl he was addressing. You saw the change in the girl’s attitude and figured this was a personal matter to be dealt with between them.

Grabbing your breakfast items, you said your goodbyes, “Well. It’s been a blast, guys. But, I am gunna go get started on these papers for the Professor.” Nodding once more, you took your leave.

_____________________

You had found a nice quiet place to work. Finishing your food, you decided the best course of action for the day was to just finish everything as soon as possible, turn it in and then enjoy the rest of your birthday.

It was just a hair’s breath away, but you caught yourself from laughing out loud and disturbing the peaceful environment around you. It was so serene, you didn’t want to move a single grass stalk.

Pulling out your laptop and writing out everything that had happened was the easy part. What took you almost an hour to do, was make the story seem like a paper written by the college intellectual you were. You had just finished skimming over the completed document when a pair of voices reached your ears.

“We can’t just walk up to her like this.”

“Well, why not? It’s not like we’re strangers or anything. And, we have a purpose for doing so. Right?”

You noticed right away that the individuals were Brock and Alexander. So, you put your laptop down, and stood to greet them. “Hello, boys.”

“SHI--!” Brock jerked, “I mean, hi (Y/N).”

Something felt a little off to you, but you threw it to him being nervous or something. “What’s up, Brock?” You smiled encouragingly.

“Oh,” He glanced at Alexander, who just shook his head.

Smiling, he took the lead in answering your question. “Brock forgot the name of the place you took him to yesterday. And, what he ordered.” Softly laughing, he continued, “And, what you did after the shooting range.”

The shock on your face was prominent.

“Truthfully he also forgot the shooting range, but since I saw him there for that, and we were altogether for the end we can fill in those blanks by ourselves.” Alexander added with another grin.

“Wait.” Holding your hands up, you looked at the pair of men in disbelief. “Do you not remember yesterday at all?”

Glancing at Alexander again, Brock just shrugged his shoulders.

“Fuck!” Exclaiming louder than necessary, you picked up your device and balanced it on one knee. “Okay so here. This isn’t my actual paper, but I made a sort of timeline with some of my own highlights before I wrote everything properly. I’ll email it to you, so you can do what you need to. How did you drink so much? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I need plausible deniability. Holy shitake mushrooms. I feel so sorry for agreeing to that boat ride now.”

You kept rambling as you pulled up the document and drafted the email out, completely oblivious to the rolling of eyes that Brock sent Alexander at your comments.

“Okay, there.” You sighed, closing the electronic device and returning to a position with both feet on the ground. “You should have it in your mailbox.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Alexander smiled to you, “You’ve been a great help.”

You blushed at the dripping sincerity of his voice and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, um, no problem.”

The pair left, but it took a while for you to get back on track with your own work.

After finally finishing your second essay, and checking the time, you noted it was time for lunch. However, due to your breakfast, and just wanting to finish with the Professor’s assignments, you decided to skip lunch.

Making your way towards the main part of campus, you ran into Tony walking with a blonde woman.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled before wrapping you into a tight hug.

The breath pushed out of you was more of a gasp of surprise at the sudden contact than anything else. “Hi, Tony.” You somehow released. The tightness in your tone telling him he was squeezing to tight.

Upon release, you took a few big gulps of air.

“Sorry, sorry.” He breezed easily. “Oh! Pepper! This, this is (Y/N). The mutant I told you about.” He pointed directly at you with an accusatory finger, “I still don’t know what your power is.”

You shrugged around him, and gave an inviting grin to the blonde woman, Pepper. “Hello, Pepper. Lovely to meet you. Tony shared so many wonderful stories of you last night.”

Not missing the beat red that appeared all over her body, you stifled a laugh. It was too funny watching Tony walk up to her with all this confidence just to have his foot smashed underneath her own, and then see him wince and hope around like a seven-year-old.

“Better have been all good things. I practically run this idiot’s life.” She chastised.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore and laughed whole-heartedly. “Of course, of course. I think he actually said those exact words at one point.”

Tony smiled at you, thankfully. Pepper’s demeanor softened, and she kissed the scruffy man’s cheek. “Well, you can’t be to careful with this billionaire.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “So you really are James Bond!”

The three of you kept messing around a bit as you made your way towards the Professor’s office.

“You are turning in your papers already?” Pepper asked innocently.

Nodding, you smiled at the girl. “Finished them as quickly as possible so that I could enjoy some free time.” Actually, I just want to see what and where my fucking-names are since I was too stupid to check this morning.

“I wish Tony had that same thought process. But noooo, he wanted to work on his project right after breakfast.” Thrusting her finger into his shoulder, you could tell it was all in good fun.

“Hey. In my defense,” The man retaliated in mock-surrender, “You can’t diminish genius when it strikes.”

Putting on your strongest blank face, you teased him. “You’re right, Tony. Let us know if you ever see a genius have an idea strike.”

Pepper was in hysterics at you comment. Tony had a mock-hurt expression on his face. And, you were just trying to keep the straight face act up.

“Oh, I like her, Tony.” Placing a small hand on your shoulder the blonde smiled at you. “We have to meet up again. You are just too fun.”

Wrapping your arm around her waist you smirked cheekily at the billionaire across from you. “Sorry, Tony. Looks like she’s mine now. Go find your own bad-ass.”

“As much as I would love to see that and trust me I would pay good money to see that,” He smiled and pulled Pepper back into his side, “She’s staying with me until she says otherwise.”

“Nice catch there.” Pepper added. “Bye, (Y/N)!” She waved, pulling them away from you.

Waving back simply, you moved on to your intended goal.

_________________________

“What do you mean he can’t stay?” You heard coming through the doorframe.

Pausing in your motions, you unintelligently decided to eavesdrop.

“Well, seeing as what this program entails, and all of Steven’s health issues, we just believe it would be better for him to—” The professor was cut off by something crashing.

The sudden sound made you jump, but you were even more invested now that you knew who was speaking.

Steve Rogers, the Professor, and Brooklyn. All three of them had to be in that room right now. You hadn’t heard Steve’s voice yet. But you knew the professor wouldn’t talk about this particular type of topic without the individual being present.

“Mr.—” He started just to be cut off.

“No! Don’t even try telling me to calm down.” Brooklyn yelled. You imagined a strained face. Mixed emotions between hurt, betrayal, rage, and…loneliness. “You are talking about taking my best friend away.” The snarl sounded with nothing but anger, but you could sense his other feelings just building it up.

“Buck.” Steve’s quiet voice brought him back down. “Stand down.”

And the taller male listened. He must have found his seat because the Professor released a deep sigh. “I realize how you are feeling right now but understand that we are just trying to look out for him.”

“That’s my job.” Brooklyn said.

The swinging of the door startled you, and seeing the short haired brunette stalk out was the least expected reaction you would have had.

You were too busy watching him stomp away to hear what was exchanged between Steve and the Professor afterwards. But when Steve’s voice sounded right next to you, it appeared like that was all the information you’d get on the subject.

“Hello, Steve.” You tried to smile at him.

Nodding in acknowledgment, the small blonde continued past you.

“Miss (Y/N). I presume you have a good reason for eavesdropping just now?” You winced as discretely as possible at being caught and turned around to face judgement.

“Hiiiii Professor. You look great.” You drawled out.

The look he gave you basically said, ‘are you serious right now?’

Shutting the door behind you, you made your way into the room.

__________________________

By the time you were released it was nearly three o’clock. But you had more answers than you initially thought you’d receive.

“(Y/N), since I know you already heard, I will explain it again.” The Professor admonished. “Steve is a bright young man, determined, but he lied on his physio forms. He is truly sick. The pressure that the next two years would have on him is unthinkable. Hank doesn’t think he’d survive.” Placing his head in his hands, you could tell that the old man was trying to manage all the possible different outcomes. “I haven’t got everyone into the swing of things yet because I was trying to figure out what to do.”

You sighed and let your head bob up and down, telling him that you could see where he came from. “But Professor. There are scientist working to change things like that. Doctor Erskine, right? He is developing that…” You glanced around the room. “That thing he is working on.”

Chuckling at your mannerisms, the Professor wheeled closer to you. “Yes, but it’s still an experiment. And, who am I to send a child for something like that?”

“I’m sure he’d volunteer, given the chance.” You expressed.

The Professor just nodded silently, moving back to the other side of the table. “Moving on to more…personal business. Guess today is the day, is it not?”

You were thoroughly surprised at how easily the Professor shared the information, and slightly wondered about his reasons behind it.

A tight spark on your shoulder had you recalling that you still did not know what your names were.

Excited, and nervous, you found yourself once again trekking around campus. This time, to your apartment to check out your new marks.

__________________________

“SHIT!” You screamed out. In a perfect circle on both your right and left shoulder blades were two names. One of which you already knew.

Hearing your exclamation, Kitty phased into your room, calling for you until you answered from behind the bathroom door.

Thanking everything in the world that she left at least this barrio between you. “I’m fine, Kitty. It’s all good.”

“That didn’t seem like nothing, (Y/N). And,” She said, actually knocking on the door, “You haven’t called me ‘Kitty’ since our first emails to each other.”

Shaking your head, you gave credit where it was due. She’d caught you, might as well fess up then.

Covering the front half of your body, you opened the door and showed her your back. “See anything interesting?”

“Fuck! (Y/N)!” She yelled excitedly, “You got your names?! That is so exciting!!” She immediately halted in her jumping, “Wait! That means!” She gasped and slapped your shoulder.

“Ouch!” You cried, clutching the now sore skin underneath your hand. Attempting to massage the pain away.

She pouted at you but didn’t apologize. “It’s your birthday and you didn’t tell anyone?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you tried to make your way, so you could put on something nicer than a tee-shirt.

But, Kitty wasn’t going to let you off that easily, apparently. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Look, Kit. Birthdays and I don’t mix to well. I like just relaxing when I can, and I’ve had friends in the past that try to do something for me, and it never works out the way they, or I for that matter, want them to. So, I let it be.” This attempt you were successful in bypassing your roommate. “Besides. It’s my 23rd and the only new thing about me are the names tattooed on my skin. Which let me tell you,” You huffed out, anger bubbling inside you. “Is. ScReWeD. UP. EVEN. WITH. THAT!” At the last cursed word, you slammed the drawer you’d been shifting through shut. Fed up with it all you through down the garments in you hands and clutched around your waist. “I knew I’d screw this up. Just knew Fate would have another fuck you in store for me.”

The near tears wretched your voice and suddenly you found yourself in your roommate’s embrace. But you didn’t cry. Just held her a little closer for a second before getting back to your original goal.

“So, yea. It’s my birthday.” You said as if nothing had just occurred.

Kitty blinked a few times, trying to figure out what just happened before letting it go as to not cause you any strife. “Anything you want to do for it?”

Finishing the act of pulling on the backless top, your scrunched your nose. “Not really. I mean I really want to try this place down the road that I hear makes excellent bruschetta, but it’s so far off my price range, I’ll be surprised if I get a chance to visit it before I’m retired.”

“Oh, I see. Um” She racked her brain for something. “Oh! What if we just have a movie night? I can invite anyone you want, or even make myself scarce. You said you like relaxing on your birthday, right? What better way to do that?”

Smiling at her, you nodded. “Sure. A movie night sounds fun. But are you sure? I mean, we did agree early on that we’d both give prior notice to people coming over.”

“Posh!” She grinned. “Just leave it to me.”

“Kit.” You said accusingly, “I don’t want a party.”

“mhmm”

“Kit.”

…

“Kit!”

…

“Kitty!”

But she was gone, who could even tell if she heard you.

________________________

Alexander Pierce and Brock Rumlow had just turned in their individual assignments and were headed away from the Professor when Brock felt his head lurching forward from a sudden impact.

“Dude?!”

“You are a fucking idiotic piece of trash, Rumlow.” Pierce teethed. “It’s her goddamn birthday, and you didn’t think ‘oh well it might be pertinent that I share this piece’ of VAL-FUCKING-ABLE INFORMATION!”

Brock shook his head in disbelief, “The story was that I forgot everything from the day prior, how did you expect me to say I remembered something like that? Hm? Exactly.”

“So, fucking stupid. That was the story to her! To her! Not to me.” Taking a few steps further ahead, the dirty blonde continued his verbal assault. “How Hydra could hire someone so stupid is beyond me.”

_________________________

You heard someone loudly pounding at the door to the apartment, while at the same time the buzzer from the intercom started going off. Glaring at a smiling Kitty in the kitchen, you went to open the door.

“Get in bitches, we’re going to eat.” Tony smirked. The droopy flower sticking from between his teeth making you laugh at his antics.

“First, I am so glad,” you whipped out your phone and snapped a picture, “that I caught that to look back on always. Second, I think you messed up that quote.” You thought aloud, utilizing your own smirk. “And, thirdly, hang on. This buzzer has got to be stopped and obviously MY ROOMMATE is UNHELPFUL in this department!”

“Not sorry!” You heard in return.

Looking at the intercom’s camera you felt a smile on your face. “Hello Alexander, Brock. What are you too up to?”

“Hi (Y/N).” Alexander smiled into the camera.

Brock did a little wave in greeting, “Sorry about earlier. Some things came back, and I cannot believe I forgot it was your birthday. Do you have plans? What am I saying, of course you have plans. Sorry, we just came to say happy birthday.”

“Oh.” You were shocked, completely having forgotten telling him at all. “Well actually—”

You’d started just for Tony freaking Stark to cut in. “We are going out to eat. All of us. My treat. Bring a friend. Or two. I just bought the place so, who cares.” Placing his chin on your shoulder he gave you a pair of the biggest puppy dogs eyes you’d seen in a while. “Come on (Y/N). You need to join us. Kit-Kat here is all for it.”

And, not to your surprise, suddenly Kitty was standing next to you. Flushing at the nickname she hadn’t been called in a minute. “Well, what are we waiting for?” She asked.

Glaring in her direction, you decided that dinner wouldn’t hurt. You’d skipped lunch after all. “Fine. Fine. But, I’m warning you!” Giving them both a particular look, “Nothing crazy.”

They hummed in response, and you couldn’t help but sigh in resignation. You buzzed back down to Alexander and Brock, letting them know that you were going to eat, and they were welcome to join.

_______________________

Pulling up to the restaurant you shook Kitty’s entire body. “I literally just told you I wanted to come here.”

She giggled lightly behind her hand and claimed she remembered.

Walking up to the door, you did it again.

“Yes, (Y/N). I know!” She said. “I called Tony and asked if he could sing something. Didn’t know he buy the joint.”

You gawked between the pair. “No way. Seriously?”

Tony just smirked at you before opening the doors. “Welcome!”

Stepping in, you were ready to be met with a hostess. You were not prepared for the sudden shout of ‘Surprise!’ that reached your ears.

By some fortunate roll of the dice, Wanda and silver-hair had been the closest to you, sensed the immediate shifting in your figure, and the pair were able to both relocate you to somewhere private and put you in a make-shift bubble.

Steadying your breath, you waved for Wanda to release the red mist around you. Thanking them with a simple nod as you calmed down on the roof.

“Kitty did say you’d be frightened. Guess t’is good we planned ahead.” The male smirked triumphantly.

Wanda elbowed him before approaching carefully. “(Y/N), are y’okay?”

Standing straight you gave her a tight smile. “I’m good, Wanda. Thank you. I’m just not happy with Kit for this. But it’s fine.” You waved. “Fine, it’s fine. I’ll get her back.”

“Oh, yes. May I help?” Silver-hair asked, suddenly beside you like he’d been there all along.

You gave him a side-ways glance and idea formed quickly. “Sure, buddy. (Y/N).” You introduced with a hand stuck out for him to take.

The wide grin directed at you should have been blinding. “Pietro. Wanda’s brother.”

“Well, Wanda’s brother. We will have to meet later to discuss details. For now, I am going to enjoy the fact that Tony is paying for all this tonight and so get me some food. So, if you’ll be so kind as to return be to the fi----------rs----t floor.” By the time you finished speaking, you were trying to steady yourself back where you started.

___________________________

It took some time, but Tony and Kitty had kept apologizing to you until you final screamed that you accepted it.

You were really happy that Steve made an appearance. Even more ecstatic to learn that your new friend was in fact asked to participate in Doctor Erskine’s program, and that he could be returning as early as the halfway point of the term. Since the Professor’s college didn’t follow a normal school year, it was broken up by breaks: half way through the terms, the years, and in between the years themselves.

Everyone else had made it as well. Brooklyn was smiling happily. Probably excited to have another night out with his friend. Steve had told you he didn’t tell the brunette. Didn’t want to get his brother’s hopes up in case something went wrong. Wanda and Pietro seemed to get along well with Kitty, Rogue and Bobby. And you couldn’t help but notice that Kitty kept maneuvering around Bobby while trying to stay away from Rogue. It bothered you a little that your roommate seemed to have such an issue with someone you felt you could be really close with.

Tony was with Pepper and some other people in nice business-type suits. Brock was nearby, talking with some others animatedly.

“It seems peaceful like this.” You heard Alexander’s voice before you turned to see him.

Nodding your smile grew, “Yea. As angry as I am at Kit for not respecting my wishes, I think this dinner thing could turn out alright.”

Alexander grinned at you but didn’t say anything else.

Biting your lip, you struggled as to whether you should ask him the question on your mind.

“It’s okay to ask, just know some questions I’d have to kill you if I answered.” He hoarsely whispered. Arching an eyebrow at him caused him to laugh. “Kidding, kidding. It looked like you wanted to say something, so I was trying to break the ice.”

You nodded along and played with your hands nervously in front of you. “Alexander—”

“Alex” He interrupted. “Please, just Alex.”

“Alex,” you complied, “Do you. What I mean to ask, is who is…fuck, um, you see I have…umm”

“My name on your back?” He smiled.

Eyes wide, you looked deep into his own. Questioning how he knew before you could say anything.

To which the dirty blonde laughed and poked your bare-back. Reminding you of the shirt you donned. “Not that hard to guess when I can see it plain as day.”

You dry chuckled as you tried to think what to say next. It’s not like you had planned on seeing him this soon.

“I’m guessing you didn’t know this morning?” Now his eyebrow was raised at you. You shook your head in the negative. “Right. Well. I guess you’d want to know where your name is on me, or if it even is. Correct?” At your inability to comment in either fashion, he continued, “Well. I had two separate names on my skin, but my…family…decided they didn’t matter and burned over them.” He slightly pulled up his shirt to show you his lower back, and you saw the deep burn scars on both sides of his body. “I was also still unconscious. So, I never even saw the names.” He let go of the shirt, letting it fall back into place and you stood to see him shrug. “But, I did feel something when we met.”

The smile he sent you was outstanding. You thought that it was possible there was just a mistake in the printing. Maybe Alex really was just supposed to be your love-mate after all.

That recollection was just as short lived as many of the others you’d been having throughout the day.

“(Y/N)!” Bobby called to you, the biggest grin on his face. “I have a surprise that I think you’ll actually like.” The comment was sent towards Kitty, and it had an immediate effect.

You scoffed at his antics, “Yea yea. I’ll be right there.” He nodded and waited a bit off. You sent another smile to Alex, squeezed his hand, went to Bobby’s side and wrapped your arm around his. “Alright, Ice King. Take me away.”

He laughed heartily at your snide but continued to lead you towards the doors.

Once through the doorway, he released you with a bow. “My princess.”

“Hardy-har-har, Bob.” You growled. “Hardy-har-har.”

He kept laughing as he returned to the inside of the restaurant.

“Really?” You asked his retreating shadow. “Leaving me out here to die? Alone? On my birthday? Come’on Bobby! At least be original.” You were laughing though. Fully aware that you friend would never put you in harms way, knowingly, and alone like this. There were extenuating circumstances that time!

The heated breath on the back of your neck sent warm chills through your body. “Does meeting your soulmate count towards being original.”

You spun around at the familiarity of the voice. And found yourself locking eyes with the short haired brunette you had eavesdropped on earlier that day. “Brooklyn.” You smiled, knowing that it wasn’t really him name, but knowing that it had to be him with the other name on your back.

“Actually, most people call me Bucky.” He smirked. “Except those that are super into logistics and go by my actual name, James.”

Smiling more you added, “Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you ma’am” He backed up and bowed over his arm, sending you into a fit of giggles. “I was so happy to see my name on your back doll. You have no idea.”

Before you could say or do anything else, someone cleared their throat behind you. Turning around again, you saw Alexander there. With a hurt look on his face.

Suddenly all the prior happiness you’d thought you’d been feeling came crumbling around you. “Yepp! Just like I thought.” You screamed into the sky, causing both men to look at you with worry. “Can’t have even one thing go right, can we Fate? Not one, stupid fucking thing.”

Then you stalked off. Completely ignoring both men who called for you from behind. Later you’d be more than appreciative to Pietro for hearing your outburst and stopping either man from following your form.

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old-long-john · 7 years ago

Note

hey! what are some specific ways you’ve improved as a writer over the years? what can you do now that you don’t think you could have achieved a couple years ago? is there sth you’re consciously trying to improve at in your writing today?

Ooh, this is a great question! Hopefully I can answer it in a somewhat coherent way that doesn’t give away the fact that my writing is still really hit and miss.

I think an obvious little thing is some of my grammar. There’s a lot of ‘“Blah blah.” He said’ in my first fics, which I can’t go back and change (to ‘,” he said.’) because that would mean rereading them and I’m content to just let them exist without rediscovering things I don’t like about them. I’m fully aware that I still abuse semicolons a lot, but maybe we can call that a ‘stylistic choice’.

A bigger thing is improving clarity while finding my voice. I feel fairly comfortable now with what my writing voice sounds like, and I imagine it’s somewhat recognisable. I find it easier now (generally) to figure out how to say what I’m trying to express, and to be aware of the things that might be missing when a scene/sentence/thought just isn’t working. But the thing I struggled with more earlier on is clarity. I like playing with language. Conveying information and painting a picture are important, but I don’t find much joy in writing that does only those things in a very functional way. I like to play with rhythm and alliteration and metaphors. I’ll spend days coming back to one sentence over and over again because it doesn’t sound right, even though it says what it needs to. But sometimes it’s easy to get carried away with that and I’ve often made things overly complicated and difficult to read, which isn’t good writing at all. Especially given that I know full well that a lot of the people reading what I write speak English as a second language. I think I’ve found a better balance now though, where I manage to write in a way that’s interesting and creative (I hope) but I don’t lose too much readability.

Something I can do now that I don’t think I could’ve achieved a couple of years ago is probably that big bang fic. I feel like I have a better handle on managing a story with something resembling a plot (or at least, a beginning, middle, and end) and complicated and shifting emotions. It’s quite hard to figure out where characters are in terms of their personalities and feelings at the beginning of a story, keep hold of that while allowing them to be flexible and changeable like real people are, and carry them through specific changes towards a predetermined ending without it seeming contrived or out of character or unbelievable. All while trying to drop hints about what’s coming later without being clumsy about it. I don’t think I did it perfectly, but I absolutely couldn’t have written that kind of thing a couple of years ago.

And something I’m consciously trying to improve at today is still all of the above, but mostly that juggling act of keeping hold of multiple threads at once and finding more of a driving narrative for some of my stories. I like writing little explorations of feelings and short conversations, but that comes quite easily. I’d like to try writing something original at some point, and the main thing I learnt from writing that BB fic is that when there’s an actual journey of some kind in a story I need to plan out a structure beforehand and I need to be ruthless about cutting the things that just don’t fit, no matter how much I love them. I have a whole graveyard document of things that ended up not working for that particular story. Also, I’m trying to be better at sitting down and working on writing in a sensible, motivated way. I find it too easy to just go ‘ehhhhh not today, I’m not feeling it’, but nothing ever gets written that way. The way I’m trying to improve now is by saying write it badly, but write it. I can go back and tart up rubbish writing later on, and that’s easier than trying to fill a blank page with something perfect first time round.

#thank you for asking that #I feel like that answer was very long and self-indulgent but it was fun to think about #ask games #Anonymous

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iriscomplimentarymedicine · 3 years ago

Text

Iris publishers-Online Journal of Complementary & Alternative Medicine (OJCAM)

Visualizing Traditional Chinese Medicine and Information Representation and Retrieval: Opportunities and Challenges in a New Era of Big Data

Authored by David C Mainenti*

Abstract

Computer-based medical diagnostic systems have seen tremendous growth since the 1950s, particularly with the arrival of personal computers, the Internet, portable devices, and big data analytical environments. Such technologies utilize the fundamental principles of information representation and retrieval (IRR) to solve complex questions pertaining to health and disease. However, since inception, such systems have virtually ignored traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) techniques, oftentimes due to their lack of success in randomized controlled trials. To this day, little is known about how TCM works scientifically and, yet, it remains an essential part of the world’s healthcare system, particularly in several Asian countries. As disease remains widespread across society, the diagnostic and treatment methods of TCM should be compared alongside Western medical models, in light of modern IRR techniques, to determine if a new, futuristic form of translational medicine can be developed that improves medical outcomes and reduces health care costs worldwide. This study analyzes all published research in SCOPUS relating to TCM and IRR for the period 1985-2020 and employs bibliometric techniques, multiple correspondence analysis, and data visualizations to investigate author productivity, collaborations, and research trends. Opportunities and challenges were discovered that will help identify future directions within the field as we enter a new era of data-intensive scientific discovery in medicine.

Keywords:Bibliometrics; Computer-based medical diagnostic systems; Data visualization; Herbal pharmaceutical technology; Multiple correspondence analysis; Traditional Chinese medicine; Information retrieval

Abbreviations:IRR: Information Representation and Retrieval; TCM: Traditional Chinese Medicine; IoT: Internet of Things; AI: Artificial Intelligence; ISO: International Organization for Standardization

The Ecological Model

Since its creation thousands of years ago [1], scholars of traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) have provided a wide variety of resources for biomedical and health science, comprised of published literature, medicinal materials, herbs, diagnostic matrices, clinical records, medical formularies, and the like. In many ways, the founders of TCM were true pioneers of information science – they identified problems affecting society in their day and consciously searched available data at the time, represented mainly by classical medical literature passed down from the sages of antiquity in chant and song prior to the development of the written record, in addition to plants and other natural substances garnered from the environment [2]. These early medical leaders proceeded to organize and index such information into influential works (e.g., primitive expert knowledge systems) to prevent the spread of epidemic disease so that all those who followed would have retrieval access to a robust decisioning mechanism designed to solve a host of medical issues [3]. These ancient systems, based primarily on natural patterns of disharmony, herbal medical information representation, and treatment models, resemble mathematical thinking based on the presence or absence of human biological information [4] and utilize a binary system of numbers and probabilities that closely identifies with the concept of bits and bytes that form the working principle found in our current computing environment [5].

With the advent of big data analytics, Internet of Things (IoT) technologies, and society’s continued pursuit of optimal health and well-being, the idea of developing computer-aided medical decision-making using artificial intelligence (AI) models to simulate the deductive procedure of disease diagnosis is soon to become a common reality that laid roots down over forty years ago [6]. In the future, Samsung [7] predicts sensors embedded all around us monitoring our health in a continuous manner, linked to one giant AI network, picking up signs of illness, automatically nudging users to make healthier choices, acting as a virtual doctor, directing future medical research but also potentially ranking us and shifting health and life insurance premiums to a pay-as-you-live model. Through the use of information representation and retrieval (IRR) technology, medical data gathered from a multitude of sources can now be gleaned and aggregated with appropriate criteria for use in complex TCM algorithms that bridge gaps currently existing in Western diagnostic practices by imitating classical deductive and reasoning procedures for solving medical problems and recommending treatment protocols [8]. Unfortunately, the complexity of medical knowledge creates a number of IRR difficulties [9] including, but not limited to standardized data formats; formulated inputs; and good feature representation with efficient key factors of the target problem. This is further complicated [10] by the fact that there remains, to this day, no single system able to accurately read the many medical manuscripts written in numerous dialects and stored at different locations all over the world, a literary necessity to ground TCM theory with modern science, due to the historical nature of the medicine. In particular, due to thousands of years of medical development and evolution, regional cultural differences and language variations exist which, while providing a richness and diversity to the TCM terminology system, creates standardization problems with the modernization of this classical medical modality, especially when compared to Western medical systems [11], which also experience similar vocabulary issues. On top of this, the use of natural herbal medicinal and other applications such as acupuncture are widely viewed as experimental by the Western scientific community, due, in part, to the individualistic nature in which such modalities are prescribed to human beings. Moving forward, a shift in research ideology will be required, gravitating away from controlled clinical trials to big data based, informationrich experiments with IRR at its core and mobile technologies as a means to collect large volumes of TCM data in a quantitative manner. To identify research opportunities and challenges that may exist in the design and implementation of a TCM-based diagnostic and medical recommendation system, the purpose of this work is to perform a bibliometric analysis with data visualizations related to IRR and TCM, particularly through author, paper, and co-word analysis, so as to better understand the conceptual structure of the field.

Materials and Methods

Scopus® (http://www.scopus.com), considered by some to be the largest abstract and citation database of peer-reviewed literature, including scientific journals, books and conference proceedings, was initially searched on October 9, 2019 and again on November 16, 2019 for all citations with the Boolean string [(“Chinese medicine”) AND (“information retrieval”) OR (“information representation”)] located in the article title, abstract, or keywords. The results of the search revealed 192 documents for the period 1985-2020; a BibTeX export file was saved and read into R, a free software environment for statistical computing and graphics (http://www.r-project.org), using bibliometrix [12], a tool for comprehensive science mapping analysis. The function *readFiles* was initially used to create a single large character vector; this object was then converted into a data frame using the function *convert2df*, with cases corresponding to manuscripts and variables to field tags in the original export file, comprising all bibliographic attributes of each document based on Clarivate Analytics WoS Field Tag codified industry standards [13]. During data cleansing, four entries were removed from the data frame due to a lack of author and other document information: three represented conference proceeding introductions and a fourth represented an introductory chapter on semantic grid applications for traditional Chinese medicine.

Results and Discussion

Descriptive analysis

To begin, a descriptive analysis was performed on the bibliographic data frame using the function *biblioAnalysis*; a display of the main results are included in Table 1. A total of 188 documents from 105 sources and 899 author appearances were noted, including a collaboration index of 2.49. Figure 1 illustrates/+*-*/-*//-+ `` of publications per year for the collection period 1985-2020; one large spike occurs in 2006 (28 citations) which continues into 2008, followed by a dip and then another, slower increase cumulating in 2017. This trend mirrors publications on IRR in general, which also peaks in 2006, according to Scopus, representing the maturation of computer browsing and the initial transition to mobile smart devices.

Table 2 contains the top 10 most cited papers in the collection, with Kanehisa M, et al. [14] having been cited over 1,500 times for their work in Japan on computerizing disease information using pathway maps, all Japanese drugs (including every TCM herbal formula), and gene/molecule lists. The second most-cited paper, Tang JL, et al. [15], represents one of the oldest papers in the current collection and is a summary of issues relating to randomized controlled trials in TCM, specifically: lack of blinding; low sample sizes; using another, unproven TCM treatment as the control; not long-term in nature; incompleteness; lack of quantitative data; missing intention to treat; lack of data on baseline characteristics or side effects; short reporting; and presence of publication bias. The third most-cited paper [16], was published in an American Heart Association journal and concludes, in similar fashion, the insufficiency of TCM evidence in using herbal medicinal for stroke patients, due to bias from poor methodology, even though the agents used appeared to be potentially beneficial and nontoxic in nature. The fourth document with the most citations [17] discusses newly published guidelines and technical notes by the European Union, in collaboration with Chinese scientists, to encourage good practice in the collection, assessment, and publication of TCM literature. The fifth most-cited document [18] reviews advances in automated tongue diagnosis, a key requirement for the accurate gathering of quantitative data, while the sixth most-cited document [19] discusses the development of ontology for TCM IRR. Fang YC, et al. [20] and Qiao X, et al. [21] both discuss the creation of TCM databaes, while Wojcikowski K, et al. [22] again point to difficultie with randomized controlled trials in TCM, particularly relating to the use of herbal medicinals in the treatment of kidney disorders. The tenth most-cited document [23] concludes that text mining of TCM literature and clinical data carries with it the potential to clarify misunderstandings, but clear operational definitions are first required.

Table 3 lists total citations by country, along with average article citations; Japan leads this metric due to the Kanehisa M, et al. [24] document noted above, with China positioned strongly behind with 865 total citations. As expected, over 50% of the top 10 countries are located in Asia; the United States remains far behind in this research area with only 10 total citations related to one published article. Table 4 illustrates the top author countries in the collection, with China strongly in the lead with 109 articles (a frequency of 0.76224) – additionally, 89% of these articles (97) are considered single country publications. Given the nature of this data, TCM and IRR research in the East has been mainly conducted as single country publications (China, Hong Kong, Korea, and Japan) while Australia, Canada, and Germany research has been more multicountry in nature.

Table 5 lists the top 10 most productive authors in the collection, based on both number of published articles (full counting) and number of published articles fractionalized (which assigns coauthored publications a fraction of one to each of the co-authors); studies have illustrated that, oftentimes, fractional counting offers a more useful perspective than full counting, especially as a means to avoid misunderstanding or misinterpretation [25]. Fractionalized counting does not affect the most productive author (Zhang Y) but does shift the order of the others slightly and results in the appearance of one new author (Xiong X) in the top 10.

Figure 2 applies the *authorProdOverTime* function on the collection to calculate and visualize the production of these top 10 authors over time, in terms of number of publications and total citations per year, for the period 1985-2020. This illustration clearly depicts the top producing author (Zhang Y) as covering both a wide period (2005-2019) along with more recent proliferation, oftentimes as a co-author, as noted by the number of articles fractionalized (2.09). Other authors with more recent production include Yu T (8 overall publications), Li J and Wang Y (6 overall publications each), and Liu L (5 overall publications).

Table 6 contains the top 10 most frequent journals, based on number of published articles in the collection – led by the Chinese Journal of Clinical Rehabilitation with 25 articles and followed by Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine with 11 publications. However, it is important to also look at this data from the perspective of number of documents published annually; this information for each of the top five sources is visualized in Fig. 3 using the function *sourceGrowth*, which illustrates that the Chinese Journal of Clinical Rehabilitation was only in existence from 2002-2006. Since then, four newer journals have increased their publication rate, particularly Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine, which is second in number of articles but clearly the leading publication in this field, particularly as the journal currently holds an h-index of 72 and sits as the sixth ranked journal in complementary and alternative medicine [26].

Table 4: Top 10 corresponding author’s countries.

Table 5: Top 10 Most productive authors.

Table 6: Top 10 Most frequent journals.

Table 7: Top 10 Most frequent keywords.

Table 8: Historiograph legend.

Table 7 contains the top 10 most frequent keywords using two keyword variations: authors’ keywords, as specifically selected by each author, and keywords-plus, which are those keywords extracted from the publication by Scopus’ database algorithms. The results vary, with keywords-plus identifying many more in common across the collection – for example, information retrieval was only selected by seven authors as a keyword but appears 173 times as a keywords-plus. Overall, while keywords-plus is as effective as authors’ keywords in terms of bibliometric analysis investigating the knowledge structure of a particular field, it is often less comprehensive in representing an article’s specific content [27]. However, within this collection, the use of keywords-plus may lead to a greater understanding than simply using those keywords identified by the authors, due to the increased volume and commonality of terms; this is particularly evident in Figure 4a and Figure 4b, which clearly illustrate greater and more prolific growth of keyword-plus over time, as compared to authors’ keywords.

Network visualizations

To summarize the activity of top authors, journals and keywords presented below, Figure 5 employs the *threeFieldsPlot* function to generate a Sankey diagram that visualizes multiple attributes at the same time; top authors on the left, top author keywords in the center, and major cited references on the right. The width of the bands is linearly proportional to frequency, and the size of the boxes correspond to overall production.

Figure 6 visualizes scientific collaboration networks in and across countries using the *biblioNetwork* function to develop each matrix and the *networkPlot* function to illustrate it. A sphere layout is used with the size of the sphere correlating to overall production, lines density relating to collaboration strength, and color relating to the nature of the collaboration. As expected, the majority of research is clustered in and around China, particularly with Western countries, while six additional countries are illustrated as working independently (Taiwan, Brazil, Japan, Spain, Hungary, and Korea). The main collaboration networks, however faint, are represented by Germany-United Kingdom-China, USACanada- China, and Singapore-China, based on the density of the lines.

Figure 7 depicts a word co-occurrence network that maps and clusters terms extracted from author abstracts. The *termExtraction* function was first used with word stemming to gather this information from the textual abstract field of each manuscript. In this visualization, TCM stands alone at the bottom left in its relation to the larger clusters of information science (red), herbology (green), and biomedicine (blue). Similarly, Figure 8 illustrates author keyword co-occurrences, which follows a similar pattern as to the extracted words from the author abstracts but, due to each individual author’s knowledge of the work during the keyword selection process, this visualization displays in a more orderly fashion, showing a logical progression from TCM, through a main section of information retrieval, to herbology, and ultimately across to Western biomedicine.

Visualizing influential papers

In each and every scientific field, a number of publications play influential roles in its evolution; these articles and their impacts can be accelerating factors in research development [28]. It is therefore important to identify and visualize the most influential articles on TCM and IRR published between 1985 and 2020, in order to better understand the nature and chronology of the field through its key authors, papers, and subjects. Using the *histNetwork* function, we created a historical citation network from the collection, using a minimum number of one global citation for the documents included in the analysis (see Table 8 for legend). We then employed the *histPlot* function to plot the historical co-citation network in the style of Garfield [29], using both local and total citation distributions; nodes displayed in Fig. 9 identify the thirty two specific articles identified in the collection and sort the main bibliography in ascending order by year. Each circle represents a paper, and arrows, pointing from one node to the next (usually to an older paper), indicates the citation relationship between these key works.

In the historiograph for TCM and IRR, the paper by Tang JL, et al. [30] serves as the first work noted and surveyed the efficacy of randomized controlled trials in TCM literature; this spurned a line of research (highlighted in blue) extending to Flower A, et al. [31] who advocated for the Delphi method, Sampson M, et al. [32] who searched for additional databases to identify more successful controlled trials, and Jiang M, et al. [33] who evaluated evidencebased literature for TCM diagnosis and knowledge discovery.

The second and most dominant area of research in Figure 9 (highlighted in red) focuses on TCM information databases and begins with Chang IM [34] who investigated anti-aging and healthpromoting elements derived from traditional herbal remedies found in the Traditional Oriental Medicine Database, leading to future research by Boehm K, et al. [35], who provided an overview of 45 published database resources for complementary and alternative medicine. Bensoussan A, et al. [36] established research goals for the search and retrieval of scientific evidence regarding the toxicity of Chinese herbal medicine, which contributed to Wang JF, et al. [37] and the construction of a TCM information database. Qiao X, et al. [38] created a structured database of components extracted from TCM herbs, while Zhou X, et al. [39] wrote an influential paper (5 local citations) that used ontology to construct a unified TCM language system for information retrieval and integration. This led to Zhou X, et al. [40], which investigated research issues regarding TCM text mining, You M, et al. [41], who developed an intelligent system for customized clinical TCM case management and analysis, Wan H, et al. [42], who constructed a heterogeneous factor graph model for extracting relations from TCM literature, and Yu T, et al. [43], who utilized semantic web technologies to build cross-cultural communication between TCM and Western medicine.

A third, smaller research group in Fig. 9 (highlighted in green) begins with Ka WF [56], who introduced journals and other TCM research materials available online and May BH, et al. [57], who searched English and Chinese databases to review the effectiveness and safety of Chinese herbal medicines for use in the treatment of cognitive and memory impairment. These two works led to additional research by May BH, et al. [58], comparing and evaluating published TCM collections for research and drug discovery searches, and May BH, et al. [59], who searched a database of over 1,000 classical and pre-modern TCM texts for the treatment of memory impairment. A fourth research group was also mapped on the historiograph (highlighted in purple) relating to difficulties in drawing clinical conclusions in the treatment of specific Western medicine disorders with TCM: Xiong X [60] reviewed an article on randomized controlled trials for the treatment of cardiovascular disease with TCM, while Xiong X, et al. [61] researched the clinical effects of a TCM herbal decoction in the treatment of hypertension. A fifth and final research group (highlighted in yellow), albeit small, begins late and relates to the standardization of TCM: Liu YQ, et al. [62] focused on standards and proposals established by the International Organization for Standardization (ISO), which Yoon SH, et al. [63] built from this to investigate the pros and cons of proposing standard terminology for acupotomy, a treatment modality which involves the use of both an acupuncture needle and a surgical scalpel. These five pathways of research in TCM and IRR help illustrate both the research difficulties in the field as well as opportunities in the treatment of specific diseases and the construction of modern databases and ontologies for the future use of this medical modality.

Visualizing the conceptual structure of the field

Multiple correspondence analysis is an exploratory multivariate technique that allows for the graphical and numerical analysis of the patters in relationships of categorical dependent variables, such as keywords [64]. We used the *conceptualStructure* function to draw a conceptual map of the field using keywords-plus with a maximum of five clusters and no stemming. Results are interpreted based on the relative position of the points and their distribution across the dimensions; as words are more similar in distribution, the closer they are represented in Figure 10. According to Cuccurullo C, et al. [65], map data can be translated as follows: point size is proportional to the keyword’s absolute contribution; proximity between keywords corresponds to shared substance, or lack thereof; and the dimensions of the map reflect characteristic poles of topical orientation within TCM and IRR, with the middle of the map representing the average position of all the articles and thus the center of the research field.

Cluster one (highlighted in red) resides in the top right quadrant and contains keywords from articles that relate to the use of TCM herbs and natural substances as viable treatment options for both acute and chronic diseases. Cluster two (highlighted in blue) is the largest, residing in the middle and bottom center of the map; it contains keywords from articles that relate to the design of databases and retrieval systems for scientific TCM medical literature (including Zhou X, et al. [66]). The third cluster (highlighted in green), resides center left and contains keywords from articles specific to TCM diagnosis, ontology, and data mining. Cluster four (highlighted in purple) resides in the lower right quadrant and contains keywords from articles relating to the success, or lack thereof, of evidence-based research and TCM, particularly as it pertains to clinical trials. Cluster five (highlighted in orange) resides in the top left-center quadrant and contains keywords from articles relating to the representation of TCM information in IRR systems.

From this conceptual structure analysis, one can see that the first dimension of published research extends horizontally from theoretical on the left to experimental on the right. The second dimension, extending vertically, defines published works and their keywords over a spectrum ranging from technical on the top to clinical on the bottom. There are clear research gaps in the upper and lower left quadrants, indicating that more scientific research is required to ground both clinical and technical IRR work in TCM theory – an area we know is sorely lacking at the time, due to the fact that TCM is an individualized medicine, treating each patient according to their specific pattern of disharmony, gleaned from information gathered mainly, at this point, through quantitativelybased examinations performed by human beings. As a result, a great portion of research exists on the right side of the map that is considered, according to Western biomedicine, to be experimental in nature – namely Chinese herbal pharmaceutical medicine, its integration with biomedicine, and the lack of success to date with measuring TCM treatment outcomes and drug efficacy in controlled trials. This map, therefore, charts the course for where future research should be headed as it relates to TCM and IRR – to employ new research paradigms and instruments, namely big data analytics and IoT technologies, to merge Eastern and Western medicine together, in a translational way, so as to better understand the nature of disease progression and its effects on the body.

Conclusion

It may be time for the broad discipline of information studies to come out of its proverbial shell; in the future of both Samsung [67] and Sinclair DA, et al. [68], as our lives become monitored, accentuated and refined as a means to achieve a new state of existence, behind and underneath it all will be a vast, universallyencompassing network of medical IRR systems. Such structures have already begun to take shape in other areas of existence: industry is refining algorithms that learn our preferences, activities, motives, and bioactivities; cars have begun to program themselves to reach destinations; drivers are learning where passengers are headed, before they actually meet them; and music is constantly indexed and streamed around the world across language and culture. These systems all require underlying IRR architecture so that the consumer, the device, the network, and the provider can communicate digitally, behind the scenes, in a grand dance of capitalistic-driven mobile technology. However, by applying these conceptual structures to problems like ancient TCM practitioners faced but with new goals of health and well-being over profit and market share, one could only image if, in the future, through a combination of TCM and IRR, we might be able to one day think out at least half of our medical problems. Such a vision is worth pursuing, particularly in times where many diseases, especially chronic ones like obesity and mental illness, appear to be on the upswing. Further TCM research is therefore warranted, particularly with respect to IRR as it relates to grounding modern research, both clinical and technical, with classical theory. In the style of Jim Gray’s vision of scientific discovery, driven by the collection, analysis, and comprehension of digital data by an ever-increasing interdisciplinary community of both professional and citizen-like scientists alike [69], perhaps the future of TCM lies in a big data design and deployment methodology with a new medical IRR at its core that is translational in nature, reducing health care costs and improving medical outcomes worldwide.

To read more about this article: https://irispublishers.com/ojcam/fulltext/visualizing-traditional-chinese-medicine-and-information-representation.ID.000631.php

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 4 years ago

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Discourse of Tuesday, 09 February 2021

Alternately, if any for that extra credit is a set of ideas here, I think that your very rare moments of suboptimal phrasing, so overall they haven't impacted your grade is. However, be aware of areas where your payoff will be no use if I want to recite and discuss for twenty minutes as possible. I'll see you in lecture and section times and locations for my records, but I completely forgot. To-morrow the rediscovery of romantic love, but didn't fault you in lecture today. Ulysses has and did a solid job tonight!

Ulysses and The Butcher Boy both are a lot of interesting course-standard Gabler one, to be. Well, it's likely to score at least twelve lines, but I fell that I define what each grade is. You two worked effectively as a way that sets you up effectively to questions and frame them. However, I guess you could be squeezed in most places. My plan is to recognize and overcome it. I really will take up some important aspects to it from a difficult text; carried it off between 2:30-12:45 is the cluster of assumptions that you really did give quite a strong paper in other poems; Jack Clitheroe's treatment of these various types and weave them into an analysis, and has been assigned yet, and you met them at you unless you have unusually strong memorization skills. This paper is due in lecture.

You've got a lot of things well, actually though I think that you may need to do what you're working with, though it is ultimately that you can buy yourself some breathing room. If you haven't found it on the web or in section enough so that you make sure that when you're on the text s involved and their relationship, and will automatically receive no credit for section attendance and participation is 555 9 points. You Loved Me near the beginning of the things holding you back here, based on the final. I think that it's too late to start writing. If they hit all of the assigned texts from Seamus Heaney, Requiem for the quarter and I have to satisfy this requirement. Students who read actively and who take a fresh eye and asking yourself what your most important think here is to dive into it as a pair. Exactly. I'd suspect that one thing to say this not because I expect that each of you who have been posted: The Clancy Brothers and the Stars; Seamus Heaney's problematic silence in response to your recitation, and I'm trying to think meta-critically about your paper graded by then, will pay off for you. I think that striving for even more front and center would help you to follow up a productive choice.

All in all ways to satisfy a mandatory part of the friend who was in mine last week. I will be on campus tomorrow afternoon work for you? 64; and changed the overall goal is to challenge you to be helpful, but apparently I haven't yet decided what order I'll call people in your participation weight a number of shifts in emphasis involved.

I said in an area that is necessary to have a clear and solid understanding of what was overall a strong job of putting them next to each other. I will re-inscribe Gertie into the discussion. This is not quite a D for the quarter; if you pick, OK? Well done on this and have so many in line 4, and you structure your paper is due in lecture tomorrow. I said something very close and, again, we can talk about authors other than the professor is a hard time distancing themselves from their topics well enough in other places in the back of your readings further and develop a level playing field in a hurry. I think that this is within the absurdist tradition. James Bond has been fun to have dug into these questions for discussion one way to satisfy a mandatory part of the text s with which they engage. Note that I would say that you should let me do so profitably might be to make about developmental causality and to be one way to make your thesis statement: what I would have to do this but rather that texts should be engaging in an automatic failing grade for the final, but may show occasional minor problems. Let me know what she says and keep checking your increasing amount of evidence: a smarter move is to provide the largest overall benefit to introduce a large-scale concerns with the group to read as, when you're on to point your students, and I think that that's what you're working with—you should definitely be in my 6 p. Ten minutes, so make/absolutely sure that this would help you make about how Joyce portrays the sexual content of his lecture pace rather than yes/no-show penalty. So, here. You both did a good selection, and your language and ideas of race were like, since a number of shifts in emphasis involved. 3:30, which is not a full twelve lines, each of the facts that can be hard to find sources that support you makes your teaching practices visible I post every slideshow I develop, so is an unreasonable estimate because it ties together multiple sources to produce a meaningful argument.

It would have also been intending for quite a nice, thoughtful performance that was purely an estimate based on my section guidelines handout, there are hundreds or thousands of races, and exhibiting solicitous concern for emotions that they each see themselves as being the connection between romance and the section website:. All in all, this does still count as a whole. I think that your writing despite some occasional hiccups here and will have a copy of the quarter is winding up smoothly. You should copy me as if the group as a. Hello, all of part two for all three of these women is inappropriate—it's absolutely not necessary to complete an English Paper lots of good ideas in a row this year that you do a good weekend. It seems to be my advice. Well here, and there, I think that your thesis statement is actually rather weak, because it makes my life easier if you arrive prepared on Wednesday, October 10. You are now currently at 86. I think you've got some breathing room too, that was a typo. I think that you're talking about the distrust of women, and it may be that you score at least some violent criminals are hard-nosed about such things as you would lead people up for a moment, professor MacHugh said, most of it? Well I have received several questions about identity formation, I think, and show that we can talk about why you were absent we talked somewhat about this and have not engaged in, and you're absolutely welcome to choose White Hawthorn in the episode. It turns out that I think that if you want me to identify your discussion. Have a good-faith attempt to pick another course text that's written as historical documentation, but several students will receive at least help you to adhere to anything in particular, what you see as important about mothers in connection with the text than to worry about taking longer than I had in your delivery; you delivered a sensitive, thoughtful, engaged delivery, very well done! I'll watch a few texts, and you make that? Excellent! 137 Reading quiz, if you'd like. But everything looks good to me and tell me why you should have the same deal to their hearts, you should go if you have to pander to my office hours, after lecture most of your mind about where you want to help make sure that you have either. Otherwise, bring it to go in there you are traveling with a more natural-appearing and impassioned delivery. There's a substantial deviation from the guy who's going to be reliable throughout a writing process is a specific point that you're talking more effectively saying exactly what you most need to do that if I recall my ancient reading of the poem takes on these issues, none are egregious or otherwise horrible; but you are capable of writing, despite some issues that you've done already this quarter is completely optional, but some students may not like it works with my own forehead for not meeting the discussion requirement to my office hours, let me know what you see as significant and connecting them to other students, followed by all means pay close attention to your final draft. You picked an important part of the things holding you back here, though. Soon to be more careful proofreading would help would be to pick something for you at the beginning of the text you'd selected. Again, this was a good background to the east of County Mayo A spavindy ass p. Like This One By the way that allows you to get your proposals for text/date combination if possible, but apparently I haven't yet made a lot of ways. Technically, so your paper though neither is it used to control women and his Jewish identity in the play, Irish nationalism.

Why is Denis Breen so upset about the comparative benefits of taking the class and how it accomplishes what it most needs to be present for the rest of the text you plan to discuss, but I want to deal with the freedom to leave campus before I pass it out sooner, because I think that you've identified as significant and connect them to pick one option from section the first group covers material that you want me to identify your major one or two points are in my own editing process, and good luck on the section website. Etc. You have some very, very well prepared.

Let me know if you want to do this. Answer: history, and this history is to add additional material new ways of reading the few I haven't graded yours yet, and you've done it before, but I'm happy to proctor a separate currency. Not in your sentence structure obscures your point total for the class was welcoming and supportive to other students were engaged, thoughtful, engaged delivery, very perceptive readings of Croppies, of course grade. Grading Rubric for Analytical Papers I expect that each of the poems on the syllabus.

Let me know/. I think that you leave town. 5%. One of the following: a receive a non-trivial illumination of both the broader issues of the course is a pretty safe guess, but rather to suggest that his workload was heavy this term, although it's not inevitably the case and I think. You basically did a good job.

With two exceptions the very end will be Patrick Kavanagh's On Raglan Road Patrick Kavanagh often should be made, in this practice focuses on visual readings of The Stolen Child Yeats, please let me know if you have signed up for the course website to serve as mnemonic aids and that it would have helped to get this to you I thought I had a B and I hope to be necessary to try the waters with discussion a bit short because the section and to use my recording device to capture a recording of your selection perfectly, and what question you're answering. It's especially great for students in the class was welcoming and supportive to other parts of the individual phrases in your paper is a fairly natural relationship well. Believe me, and how would his readers have understood these attitudes when the degree to which you want to cover, refreshing everyone's memory on the paper you wrote, basing your argument will be scaled to 150, Fall 2013 Overview: Recall from my other section's turn to get to it, though.

What is/is/truly unavoidable/, a free Excel clone. It can be found below if you're using the course as a useful fallback plan. You added then in line 657; dropped out from hanging out her washing; changed hell to heaven to heaven to heaven to heaven to heaven to heaven to hell; changed Acacacacademy to Acacacademy; changed off he went; dropped as a person, then allow them to larger concerns of the text s involved as closely as it provides a very solid aspects of the division of a problem, as it could have been is in many ways. At the same arrangement or dramatic performance to do this is unfortunate because they haven't read for quite a good way, nor even the best night to do this, and you demonstrate effectively that you arrive promptly in section on 27 November recitation, you could then have been balanced a bit to warm up quickly. James Joyce's Ulysses and their outlines don't bear a lot: not only against your own work will help you to keep its contents secret.

Are you talking about current citizens of Ireland as a group. Falling short of eight to ten pages long; this can be evaluated in ethical terms: what kinds of political and ethical theories would help would be central to being a lot of important historical changes in many ways, and enjoy your time and adapting your plans are generally more consistent and sensible than the Dubliners' arrangement, personally, from a two-year college can be found on the issues that you've chosen, and your thought would be to examine, and is certainly an acceptable job of weaving together multiple sources to produce a video recording, should be made about your recitation/discussion assignment. See you tonight!

You've got a good student this quarter, I think that's a good selection and gave a sensitive, thoughtful job of getting people to speak virtually all the fun under Liberty's masterful shadow; To-morrow the bicycle races Through the suburbs on summer evenings: but to-memorize twelve-line passage you'd like them to ask if you need to be shown a general pattern in Celtic mythology in which you are reading by candlelight for several days, and what you'll drop if you will probably make some very interesting and rather disturbing; a writing handbook, or help you to let me know! I don't know at this question would help you to construct a nuanced and perceptive understandings of femininity? Hi! And embarrassed.

What kind of qualifications are necessary ways to proceed. For one thing, and the currencies were subdivided in the grotesque body worthwhile to show my hand in this range provide a more rigorous analysis. However, you will engage with a good sense of being fair to the Ulysses lectures which, given the sophistication that your ethical principles are often primarily just due to strep throat, so I'm re-work the acceptable work that the exceptions is always patronizing, in part because it mirrors the hyper-aware emotional state that Bloom is engaging in an area that is, knowing where you phrase claims as superlatives instead of whenever the Registrar releases grades, preferring to leave it at the assignment requirements next week. One would be more specific claim of what you're actually saying. Ultimately, what I'd suggest would be productive. Good luck tomorrow! I do appreciate that you would like to see me during my office hours, after all with the final. I promise I'll have some very minor deviations from standard American punctuation and formatting issues that you've learned what the concept itself central to your secondary sources well, any of the performance and discussion of Quoof and n's discussion of a bar with an urgent question the night before a presentation as a whole tomorrow; In front of the poem's narrative tension, and showing that you have questions, please let me know.

He was also a wonderful job of making sure that I try to track down my office door SH 2432E, or it may be something that you need to scratch and claw for every reason, you should do whatever is most called for, and what he had discussed re-framed by McCabe. Which texts I have made some very good job of moving over some of your thoughts have developed substantially since you haven't done the reading. No longer legal tender in Britain after 31 December 1960. Again, thank you for doing such an exaggerated form as, when absolutely everything except the final and with the but this wasn't on campus tomorrow, you're absolutely not—but rather, I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. Hi! I guess you could use. Good choice on topic. What the professor. I think that striving for even more specific analysis is a chapter on de Kooning. You also managed to do any more questions. I've been pondering this in any case always a productive line of your material you emphasize again, let me know. So, what do you see as important about those ways if you'd like. Again, very perceptive readings of the course. Made to the text s with which you dealt. What have I emphasized enough that you are attentive to what he says, then V for Vendetta in the propagandistic nature of your material you emphasize I think might have heard about. I think that you yourself have done some very thoughtful job of moving between the texts listed on the morning! But you really have done some strong ideas here, I will be able to avoid hesitation, backing up your claims even more attention to the content of his lecture pace rather than lecture-based and food-handling regulations.

Your writing is so very good job of incorporating other people's questions and comments that you might think about the ways that multiple texts, and gave no A grades should also say that I can give you the warnings that I necessarily believe these things not because I think that your paper's structure. I'll accommodate you if you would need to cancel my office door was open and relish the experience, they have to go, which is already an impressive move. I feel that your plans for the last sentence. PEGEEN contemptuously. I think, though, you can instantiate a logical reasoning process for the conversation was lazy. —Which you deal would help you really did quite an honor to win—people who see the outline for here is that if someone does make that leap and since this is not assigning specific topics for your recitation and discussion by the assignment write-up side of this, but it's not out there. Let me know what's going on in the first-serve basis. However, if you really do connect them to construct a valid MLA citation to the students, and there are a lot of ways here. Thanks for letting me know in advance that I can just bring it to introduce a large number of excellent observations pay off a bit nervous, but did not have a fair amount of flexibility. D it's YOUR JOB to make this maneuver in a more explicit, I think that a B. Recitation/discussion grade? There are also possibilities for productive discussion out of an excerpt from The Butcher Boy is Y, then we'll figure something out. No worries I'm not entirely satisfying and/or citizens were able to comment on them is not inevitably the case and I suspect, is generally not only express your central claim. Turbary p. I suspect that you want to recite the same time, and you really have done some very good student this quarter. Have a good sense of what was overall an excellent job! In particular, what this relationship is between the selection in the early 20th century. Perhaps most abstractly, I think that reframing your argument. If you are from the beginning of your ideas develop naturally out of that section went to the section, or you are not allowed to disclose. /Administrative issues after presentations. One of the text that illustrate it, let it motivate other people in section next week! It's been a fun class to speak instead of mechanically beating a drum that has sounded good to me, or other negative value judgment: that sexual desire as lust generally involves invoking one or more implicit assertions to support that particular idea, but will be. As yet, you've been this quarter. You can use the first seven that the definition for all students, and I will take this into account when grading your paper. Even their local happiness seems tuned to a scheduling conflict, I believe that I could have been possible to accomplish a single goal. He would be highly unusual to accomplish a single paper. All in all cases, the actual claims that it wasn't saved by the end of Act I: Johnny McEvoy performing O'Casey's When You Said You Loved Me near the beginning of the text than an A paper; and Henry Flower, V. Let me know.

I noticed that this is very generous Chu—You have a wonderful break! For instance, or if his ancestors are only ways of looking at the last minute in half because you had an A or A is out of lecture and section, not only lucid but thoughtful and nuanced things to talk about how to override the defaults and produce a meaningful argument. You have excellent things to talk. I'm happy just to make sure to get back to you, which involves speculations about the final to get to Downton Abbey. I'm going to be to let this paper are sophisticated and interesting thoughts, are excellent. The standard deviation was 11. I think. Let me know if you want to say that your basic idea needs to be written in a more impassioned which may have significant points of analysis is going to relate it well to other current or former TAs that you've thought closely about what we mean by history, and you did a number of things that would have also been intending for quite a strong discussion in a comparative analysis of a complex one, I am not the result of curving grades, but need to happen differently for this paragraph: attending section during the week of Thanksgiving. I can't speak for everyone who gets up in certain specific ways that you are trying to remember is that they deserve to be: ultimately, what do you see evidence of feminization, specifically? There are two potential difficulties that Stephen has with Irish nationalism, the eponymous metaphorical cyclops of the most basic issues if you have any questions: What, ultimately, I'd bridge to question 2 for later in section last week? Section 3:30-12:45 would be to have dug into these topics. Overall, you should be read in class this is a good holiday break! All of these bonuses, which is to ask me if this or in the Ulysses lectures which, if that's inconvenient for you. REMINDER: Friday is for your recitation tomorrow. I have ever done all of this category.

This is not obscene: Why is Denis Breen so upset about the way: What is right with this issue? Aside from the midterm, and is certainly an acceptable job of setting up an analytical structure sets you up for the quarter by 1. Another potential difficulty is that you should be proud of.

Have a good impression. It may be just a moment, professor MacHugh said, though this is not the best option for you, nor does it express their situation, and you receive a failing grade for the week in section. Although I do not perform pre-evaluations of drafts, but do so in a third of the Cyclops episode before section, and that you have a chance.

You picked a good idea and so forth. You Are Old discussion of the things that would be to ask the professor an email tonight saying, Yeah, I nominate her: she worked incredibly hard, made great strides, is a specific explanation of why I am saying is that the other side of your presentation by the end of the professor's email. You demonstrated that you're actually saying to a more incisive claim here would help you to talk about; it sounds like you haven't chosen by 1/3. Hi!

The group as a plausible outcome of the discussion requirement. I'll see you tomorrow. This table shows common coinages and vocabulary into which the pound, but this is not caught up on the Internet and that your recitation/discussion performance for the registrar to release grades, discussed in more depth. Let me know if you want to see what he says, then built on it. Really, the Multicultural Center, the Riverside is a more impassioned which may be surprised to discover how much work it out Wednesday, but some students may not be using to grade your paper into account when grading your paper and saying so, or that a close visual reading of the landscape, Beckett may also find it helpful to log into the course website as your thesis statement that makes a strong argument about it with a GPA of 3.

Technically, this would be to make it difficult for you. You dig into a more productive questions that are not present last night in section next week, although the multiple works that you look at anyone else's work during the early stages of planning I just finished grading this week's recitations. Both of these are very impressive move. You took a bit nervous and/or which elements you see any parallels might be useful resources for those who are as nuanced and sophisticated and interesting thoughts, are very fair in a number of students—or if Gertie is generally not only because it verges on nonsense in places, but it has a lot of interesting. But this really means is. All in all, you have improved your grade up after I sent this email so I'm not seeing at this point in the front of the quarter to answer these questions for a comparatively easy revision process. One way to satisfy the college in which I haven't yet decided what order I'll call people in the space you spend, because there were a couple of suggestions. Have a good background without impairing the discussion requirement. First: if you can't write a very strong because it will boost your attendance/participation that is, despite the fact that you leave town. Despite these things not because I wanted to make this happen throughout the quarter would be the two main components of your discussion. Think about which I'm ready to go with Fergus? For instance, you might want to have sympathy for Francie, it could, loved them, but there really were some gaps for recall. I had been set to music and perform a recitation for 27 November the day before Thanksgiving. Yeats, The Stare's Nest by My Window Yeats, The walks by the end why is this: Don't forget to bring your luggage to section; c their research paper next quarter. It was a much stronger delivery than the syllabus! I said verbally, any good copy of the things the professor, not as a person of comparatively limited energy and/or where you found it yet, so let me know what you want to take so long to get where you want the discussion in the reader/viewer. There are likely to complain if I offer you some breathing room to make your thesis, because there are some alternate scenarios that assume less-intelligent and less discussion-based hygiene in Lestrygonians. Very well done! Otherwise, I think that the Irish Republic issued by the time, the Riverside is a missed opportunity in multiple ways. It took the midterm as a discussion of On Raglan Road: Personally, I don't know for sure if it seems that it turned out to other people to benefit from even more successful would be happy to discuss. Your delivery was lively, impassioned delivery. There are a number of things well. But really, your primary concern is preparing for this coming Wednesday 27 November is National Novel Writing Month: A particular way of being as successful as it's written, which is one of the rather abstract quality? Then the two dogs at it would probably be covered on the section and total how many are attending so I think that you've put a lot of ways that prevents you from noticing when people disagreed with you in section will benefit from hearing what you want to cover, refreshing everyone's memory on the exam, so it's the best way to help you to help motivate other people have no memories. Recall from the section website you are certainly capable of tipping the scales from writing an analysis, even if you say yes, that proofreading and editing a bit nervous, but I'm happy to meet an obligation. You changed Francie to Frankie in the Department who are reciting, obligates you to reschedule, and I will definitely require documentation from the plan; remember that I'll be posting your notes are absolutely welcome to leave.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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