#been awake sine 2

[jollyempathpersonllama]

I have this urge to eaty my phone

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

A/N: This is a bit of a short update, but I wanted to get something out for the people that were asking for it! Enjoy 💕

-🐺-

You were embarrassed as soon as the realisation hit you, but by the time you’d had a decent rest and something to eat, you were feeling a lot more even footed. You were standing at the precipice of your new posting with anticipation, ready and waiting at the front door of Ghost’s house, eagerly listening out for him to come out of his room and take you to the new base. 

Ghost had knocked on your door earlier that morning just a little while after the sun had risen. He was still donning his skull balaclava and dressed similarly to the night before, though he had seemed to have changed sine. His eyes widened a fraction once he looked in and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossing what little you saw of his features when he saw you sitting awake on your freshly made bed. 

“Earlier riser. Not a nest builder then?” he’d noted.

You struggled to remember the last time you’d made a blanket nest, you could barely recall how to build one. That was one of the first things that’d been beaten straight out of you after being left at the barracks, leaving your ‘bed’ in any other state than bare with folded up sheets was an immediate punishment. 

“I’m not a child,” you muttered.

You were determined not to get emotional that day. Set against becoming the mushy tempered little pup you’d been the day before and instead behave like the soldier you were. That way, you figured, he might treat you the way he was supposed to as well. No more surprises, just business as usual.

However you were met with shock again when he’d led you away from bed and pointed at the table you’d sat at the night before. At what was apparently now your seat, there was a steaming  styrofoam box with bacon, eggs, toast and beans cooked to perfection and ready for you to eat. The scent was rolling through the air and rushing into your system, overwhelming you as you took an unsure stoop into your chair. 

“For me?” you asked, making sure to confirm before picking up the fork and knife laid out. 

“Yeah, Price ordered out for us. You’ve got a big day ahead, and he wants you on top form. And apparently I can’t be trusted to sort breakfast,” he said, scoffing at that last part. “Eat up and get ready. I’ll get you at the door in an hour.”

You breathed out a sigh, already not sure what to make of getting such a lavish breakfast, but there was nothing for it. If your new Captain had specifically requested you eat the feast in front of you, then you’d scarf down every last bit of it. Your stomach baulked at the idea of having so much in the morning when you were used to very little, but you ate it all while Ghost busied himself with the dishes from the night before behind you. Apparently he was intent on filling the air with a clattering clanging orchestra.

By the end of your meal, you’d figured that breakfast had to be one of the best you’d ever had, but with good food comes a heavy stomach and it turned you sluggish. It made for a struggle to find your motivation to go to the bathroom and get ready. However you bullied yourself into getting through it, your mental drill sergeant forcing you along until you ended up at the door fully dressed and in your usual black cargos and white T-shirt, tail swishing in anticipation for Ghost.

Your boots were still a bit damp from being in the rain all day before, but you were sure that with whatever Price had planned they’d be smelling like old cheese either way. It didn’t stop your nose wrinkling any less though. 

“Do you not have another pair of boots?” Ghost groused, looking you up and down while his heavy steps came thudding up to the door. 

He was all wrapped up in his big black jacket. He looked a lot warmer than you did standing there holding off the shakes, but you knew better than to complain. Plus your belly was full of meat and carbs so it helped your body fend off the morning chill. 

“We only get issued one set,” you said, looking down at your sodden feet, “I can try to clean them off a bit more, but I figured it would just waste time and make them wetter.”

“Well that’s changing today. You can’t walk around in wet shoes like that, we’re not in world war one,” he grunted. “What else do you need?”

You frowned at him, tilting your head at the question. Why would you need anything else?

“What else would I need?” you asked earnestly, hoping he wouldn’t get annoyed at the stupid question. 

“Your bag wasn’t very big and those clothes you were wearing last night were falling to bits. You’ve clearly been sewing them a lot, and not very well,” he laughed. “Tell me what you need and I’ll send for it.”

“I…” you tried to think of something, anything just to avoid looking like an idiot, but you couldn’t. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I have all the things I’m required to have.”

Your ears folded down, your body was bracing and ready for him to shout at you, instincts winning over your pride. It was bad enough you weren’t able to answer his question, but you’d pretty much disagreed with him as well just by saying you had what you needed. A rookie move, you thought as you admonished yourself.

“Can I see what you brought with you?” Ghost asked, his voice so quiet under the muffling of his mask material. 

You bit your lip and nodded, still waiting for the roaring thunder of shouts to begin and start beating against the walls. Instead he just moved his body to the side and motioned for you to go back to your room. You were forced to pass by him, shrugging your shoulders into your neck in anticipation of a grab. Every little creak across the wood felt like a prelude to some larger sound or maybe even a smack, but you were shocked to find that none of what you imagined came to pass. 

Once you’d reached your little chest of drawers, you were worked up to hell. There was blood rushing fast in your ears, a river running through your head and you were having to hold your breath just to keep your chest from convulsing. Ghost wouldn’t have noticed your breathing anyway though, while you panicked and waited for him to finally show his anger, he opened your drawers and revealed the barren interiors inside, closing each one with a heavy thunk and a dissatisfied tisk.

“Really, pup, is this all you have?” Ghost sighed, ending his search at the last drawer.

It contained two other pairs of black cargos and your sweats that you’d been wearing the night before. You looked down at it with glassy eyes and then back at Ghost, still waiting for your scolding. Waiting for him to rise up from his crouch and tower over you again. 

“Three pairs of trousers, five T-shirts, underwear for the week, and a set of bedclothes,” you listed, trying to keep a hold of yourself. “Plus a sewing kit. That’s what the rules say we need to have. Is there a different regulation here, sir?”

Ghost put his head in his hands for a moment and you pursed your lips, readying yourself for an explosion. Your toes curled and your claws dug into your palms, every fibre of your body was poised for an attack that you had to let happen. There was no way you were going to start the morning off badly with defying your handler on your first official day afterall. 

“You should have more than this,” Ghost finally said, his voice an even rumble as always. “You’ve served for a long time, you should have some personal things, darlin’.”

Your fear was now turning to frustration. Now you were at a loss, you didn’t understand what he wanted. Why was he wasting so much time on this clothes issue when you were supposed to go meet Price? The last thing you wanted was for Price to be mad at your late arrival because Ghost was getting caught up on your clothes.  

“Have you been wearing your work clothes on day trips?” Ghost asked.

“On…what?”

“When you go off base,” he prodded, now standing up to his full height again. “What do you wear in your downtime?”

“I’ve only ever been off base for missions and off-site training,” you murmured, looking down at your dirty boots. “It’s just hybrids with permanent handlers that get taken out at Branhaven and no one ever wanted to have me until you and Price. Everything I have is in those drawers…apart from some bathroom stuff I put away in the sink cupboard, I made sure I kept it all out of the way of your things though.”

Ghost looked dumbstruck. It was a funny thing, even though you couldn’t see his face you could still tell so much about his expression through his eyes and body. And in that moment his eyes looked lost and his fists were clenched at his sides. You couldn’t figure out why that sentence was what he seemed the most angry at since that whole segue had started, but you couldn’t deny that there was something like a glint of murder in his face.

“Can we just go now, sir?” you asked, looking past his shoulder and hoping you could entice him to drop the whole stupid subject. “Won’t Captain Price be mad if I’m late?”

Ghost untensed his muscles and dropped his hands. 

“He won’t be mad, it’ll be fine,” he assured, putting a hand on your shoulder and making you jump. “Woah, easy darlin’. It’s ok. Don’t worry about all this, alright? I’ll talk to you about all this later, but for now you’re right, we should get heading. C’mon.”

You huffed out a sigh of relief when he turned and clutched at your chest for a second, thanking whatever spirit was around that you gave him an effective distraction. Though you dreaded to think the subject was going to be revisited. You were still going to be equally as clueless as to why he was so upset that you didn’t have more…stuff. 

You had no idea what that stuff was supposed to be or what you’d need it for when you had perfectly sufficient things that you could always repair whenever that was required. Anything else was just stupid, you were just a hybrid. What would you do with personal items or civilian clothes? It’s not like you were bursting with photos to frame or had any events to look nice for.

It was all so stupid! You put it out your mind and compartmentalised, following silently at Ghost's big back as he took wide strides across the smooth paving and over to his car. You never were good with remembering makes or what logos were what, but what you did know was that It was huge and black and practically gleaming it was so clean. It was clearly something that he took pride in. 

It made you purse your lips once inside, entirely mindful of how spotless his matching black leather interior was. It didn’t seem very conducive with wolf fur so you opted to grab your tail and hold it round your front once you were seated, hoping you could stop yourself from shedding all over the place and creating another uncomfortable conversation. Even though the angle hurt and needled at your old injury, you muscled through with gritted teeth, summoning all your strength for whatever lay ahead. 

Besides, you thought as the engine roared to life, the pain almost made up for the lack of punishment before. It put your head back into order. 

…

“Well well, look who finally decided to show up.”

You’d already gotten out of Ghost’s car with your heart in your throat after seeing you were ten minutes later than he’d said you needed to be. Now standing at the foot of the office, Price’s words had you wincing. You panicked and looked from the Captain sitting at his shaky old desk and then back up at Ghost in the doorway, internally cursing him for taking up your precious time with all of his nonsense about clothes.

“Somethin’ came up,” Ghost shrugged, settling one of his hands across your back and on your shoulder. “Fair warning - this one’ll have a heart attack if you pretend to get mad, so consider your next words carefully.”

Price raised his brows and looked straight at you then, smiling with that signature crinkly eyed grin of his. You remembered his face well, you’d always been thrown by how kind it looked when you’d gone away with him. You weren’t used to Captain’s like him, not accustomed to anyone giving you smiles and encouraging praise. 

At the start of the mission he’d made sure to emphasise he’d be looking out for you through his scope and had Gaz ready with a rifle if anyone had tried to intercept your tracking. Then after you’d returned home he’d made a point of taking you for a burger before he took you back to your base, even letting you sit in his warm truck and enjoy it properly. 

“Well we don’t want that, do we? C’mon, love, take a seat and we’ll go over some things before you go see the other two,” Price said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of him. 

You complied immediately, forgetting about your rush of memories, racing to sit down to a point you were almost sprinting to the chair. Price kept the smile on his face while Ghost sat beside you, both men sharing a look while you anxiously waited to hear what Price was going to say. You couldn’t help but fidget with your tail, digging your fingers deep into the wiry top layer of fur and into the soft tufts underneath. 

“Ghost filled me in on what happened yesterday,” Price said, brows lifting as he tilted his head down at you. “And we want you to know that’s not how we wanted to manage the transfer. So first off, I just want to make sure you’re doing ok. How do you feel about the new arrangement?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. As much as you liked the Captian, you still didn’t expect him to mirror Ghost’s strange behaviour and ask about your feelings. He hadn’t said much to you before when you’d gone away with him, there weren’t any good markers to see if this was normal behaviour.

It all made you wonder if you’d been taken away to some kind of opposite land where hybrids seemed to mean something. Then again, you thought bitterly, perhaps this was all a test, just to see how you’d respond.

“Fine, sir,” you answered, fingers threading tighter through your tail. 

Ghost and Price shared another look. Price’s mouth quirked as if he had gathered something from the stare that Ghost gave him.  

“Ok…well that’s good. Do you have any questions for us? 

“No, sir. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, I’m ready,” you said, giving a little nod for emphasis. 

Price chuckled, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. You were sure you’d said something wrong, but if pressed to answer what that was…you wouldn’t know what to say. 

“I’m glad that you’re keen to get started, that’s a good sign. I’m not looking for you to dive right into working though, I want you to have questions and ask us things, so go ahead. You must have something you want to know.”

You sighed and looked down at your tail again, stomach feeling all the heavier after that breakfast. There were a lot of questions floating around your head, but every little piece of you was crying out to just shut up. 

Hybrids don’t ask questions, they follow orders. 

You had been told to ask your questions though. It would surely make him angrier to be denied, you reasoned to yourself. 

“Why me, sir?” You asked, looking up from your lap. 

“Why’d we want you on the team? I liked working with ya, you were quiet, efficient, had a keen focus as well. Simple as that really. We needed a hybrid and I thought you’d be a good fit with us.”

“A good fit, sir? Why?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“Everyone on the taskforce is someone that I can count on. I’ve worked with each one of ‘em at various times in my career and I know that they’ll deliver every time I ask them to go out on the field. You did well on that mission you joined us on, and 

 when looked over your record after, I was impressed with your results to say the least. Makes you a great candidate for the 141.” 

“I’ve never had anyone mention anything good about my record before you both,” you muttered. “Are you sure they didn’t mix up the file handover, Captain?” 

Price shook his head and reached his hand across the table, warm skin enclosing over yours as he held his palm over the back of your hand. You felt your ears perk up in surprise. He was…touching you? And not for corrective reasons either! 

“I can assure you it was the right one, love. There wasn’t anything I saw on there that made me think you couldn’t do this job,” he said, giving your hand a quick pat before withdrawing again. “It ain’t all about staying out of trouble.”

You looked up at him and said nothing then, completely silenced by his thoughtful gesture. You’d gotten in plenty of trouble, that was for sure, but you only ever acted like a little shit with the assholes back on your base. Things were different now. You didn’t know how to orient yourself, didn’t know how to behave in your new circumstances.

Instinct said to ignore all the fluffy behaviour and just get through the day doing what you were told, but there was a tiny part of you that really wanted to believe that maybe the men in that room had your best interests at heart - maybe, just maybe this was the break you’d always secretly hoped for. Not that you gave that part of yourself much credence, its voice was too similar to that of the young pup that said that maybe your family would come back for you one day. Maybe they’d realise they made a mistake dropping you off and they’d let you come home again. Stupid stupid little wolf that you were to ever even have a notion like that. 

“Well, I’ll do my best regardless, Sir,” you smiled, hoping he’d move on and get the day going. 

“Good to hear. Do you have anything else you’d like to know before we get stuck in?” 

“No, sir,” you said a little too eagerly. 

He laughed at that. His chuckling low, deep and earthy as the cigar scent that permeated around him. There was something so naturally easy about Price, something that had you relaxing even while you wondered if you were going to get in trouble for not being interested enough to ask more. 

“Well, first things first, welcome to the 141. As you’re the first hybrid member, I expect there will be a learning curve for us all, so we’re going to be training hard over the next few weeks while we get used to each other. Ghost is the only one of us fully trained in hybrid handling, so all of us will be taking his lead while we learn to work properly together out on the field. You’ll be with Ghost for your first few missions, but after that initial few weeks pass you can be sent out with any of the team at any time. You’re not just getting sent on assignment anymore and you’re not dealing with the likes of your old base, you’re dealing with very intense work,” Price said, taking a sharp intake of breath as his tone changed. “You’re going to be out with us in all manner of terrains and situations, and oftentimes under heavy fire. We can be sent anywhere at anytime, and when a target is discovered we need to act quick. We deal with very prolific HVT’s and even in high stress, they need to be brought in safely for interrogation. All this is to say, you’re not expected to act like a mutt anymore, I don’t need that on my team. I want you to be sharp and take initiative, I will need you to communicate with us and to share your thoughts rather than blindly follow orders even when you know they’ll lead to trouble. Your perspective is valuable, you can hear better and sniff out danger that we can’t, so if you flag something then tell us. Do you think you can do that?” 

You raised your brows, head heating in malfunction, not at all ready for the big speech your new captain had imparted on you. Learning to act like a ‘mutt’ was the only thing that had ever been drilled into you. It was the reason you’d been met with so much trouble at the beginning of your career, the main reason your original handlers had encouraged the others to beat you that little bit harder and to make your life more miserable than the rest. You’d been shoved into submission all your life and told to shut the fuck up and do as you were told, you’d never ever been told your perspective was valuable.

You weren’t even given a mic to communicate with out on the field when you started, you were just supposed to follow orders as they came to you. You’d learned ever since then not to speak unless asked.

“Not to question you, but…just to clarify. You’re telling me you want me to go against orders, sir?”

“Well for example… I tell you to walk into a building and you can smell that it’s riddled with explosives, then yes. I expect you to raise the alarm when the situation calls for it. I don’t need a hybrid that’s going to go out and get themselves killed just to please me, I need someone that can get the job done and help get everyone back safe. Lives and mission success are more important than ego to me everytime, you will never be punished for acting in the interest of the team, which now includes you. Understand?”

“So just to get this clear, you’re giving me blanket permission to talk on comms - to give my opinion to you whenever I have one?” you asked incredulously. 

“Precisely. This should help with that,” he smiled, pulling something from out of the groaning top drawer of his desk and sliding it across to you. 

You reached out and accepted it, holding the strip of dark leather between your fingers and admiring how smooth and thick it felt, how high quality it was. Not missing the numbers 141, that were stamped into its side. It was a new collar. Outfitted with a built in mic and specialised remote lock, one that could be unlocked if it became snagged or got you into trouble in a fight. You were pretty sure it had a longer tracking range than standard collars too, and even came with a shiny D ring for tags. This was the kind of thing that hybrids wore when they were prized by their teams, owned by the sort of people that actually cared if you came back to them. 

“Is this really for me?” you asked sceptically, taking a hand off of the new collar and touching the one already round your neck, sliding a finger over the bruised skin at its rough sides. 

“Course it is. We can have it changed or altered if you’re not happy with it,” Price noted, watching your reaction carefully. 

“It’s perfect as is, best bit of kit I’ve ever gotten” you said quickly, running your fingers all the way down the bumpy stitching. “Thank you, sir.”

“Shall we get this thing off then?” Ghost said, speaking up from his place next to you. 

You looked over at him and followed his eyeline realising what he meant, touching your old collar once again. You didn’t need convincing. You nodded and tipped your head forward, letting him access the buckle at the back before unclipping and letting it loose, leaving you unmarked to the world for a minute, just another hybrid without a claim.

It was weird being bared like that, honestly you felt like he’d taken off your shirt or your trousers. You always wore your collar, and now that it was off you felt little better than a worm on a bait hook, wriggling uncomfortably at the sensation of air on your bare flesh. 

Order was restored when Ghost took your new collar and wrapped it around you, clicking it into place with a cheerful clink from the new locking mechanism. You sighed and let out the tension in your muscles, closing your eyes a second before straightening up and looking at Price and Ghost, checking over their satisfied faces. 

“Good to have you officially on the team, pup,” Ghost said with what was surely a grin. “Just need to put your tags on.” 

He took your ID tag from your old collar and slotted it on to the D ring at the front of your neck, then produced a handler tag from his pocket, letting you see it while he fiddled with the tag already round your neck. You took it in your hands and thumbed over the bumpy metal letters and rubber edges, tilting your head as you looked it over. 

LT Ghost

#09-2022

141

You’d always had the base information on your team tag, or had to wear a temporary one when you were sent on long deployments assigned to work with other teams. Even then you’d always get a building ID or some other number that would link you back with some office somewhere. You'd never worn someone else's name around your neck before, but now you were going to be linked to Ghost for the rest of your days. If anyone found you and reported your handler’s number to the relevant authorities they’d get a direct line to him. 

For a man that hadn’t even revealed his face to you, he was incredibly willing to hang such a big responsibility around your neck. You bit your lip and watched as he took the tag from you, fixing it in place behind your ID tag. His heavy breaths were escaping from behind his balaclava for a moment, he was in deep concentration trying to manouver the little tag with his huge hands. You grinned when you heard him swear at it.

“There, you’re stuck with me now,” he said matter of factly, giving the tags a playful tug when he was done. “How’s the collar feel? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, sir,” you shrugged, still marvelling that he was willing to take you on. “Feels a lot better than the old one.”

“That’s cause this,” he grunted, throwing your old collar into Price’s wastebin. “Was a piece of shit.”

You snorted out a laugh and watched as it disappeared into a mass of paper, going deep down to its crinkly death. You couldn’t disagree. It had been rough and frayed either age for far too long and they’d used it to grab you and haul you around like a hay bale for even longer. This new collar, was much smoother an….

d far more pleasant on your neck.

“It suits you,” Price smiled. “I know you’ll be a great addition to the team…that said, are you ready to go meet Gaz and Soap?”

[maryleclerc]

𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 — charles leclerc

pairing: prince!charles leclerc x reader

summary: just another version of 𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫, prince charles leclerc cheated on his wife and confessed

author note: NO HATE TOWARD CHARLOTTE SINE !

read the my royal series here

au: this is my first time write a full one-shot or long imagine so please forgive me if i made any mistake. would be great if you can give some opinion, advice after reading this 🫶🏻 there no part 2 of this, and i might delete it anytime so not sure if i will keep it or not

warning: english is my native language, use google translation, grammar mistaken. but i won’t call it a part of the 𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 series, i made cause so much people wanted to read it so it’s going to be a sad end, please if you don’t like this end… scroll or just don’t read it at all. love ya!)

Charles and I have been married for 3 years, we have a 2 years old son together, according to the royal plan arranged for both of us, as it was plan today we will got to Italy because in a few days we will attend the F1 Grand Prix race in Italy this year but it coincides with the wedding date of my best friend in London, not wanting to let the Italians down because of the broken promise. We have decided, Charles going to attend the race in Italy in the next few days, me and Christian are going to attend my best friend wedding in London.

"Morning mon amour, is Christian awake yet baby?" Charles asked me and came up to where I was standing and kissed my forehead, he has been act to strange for the past few month he use to to kiss me on the lips every morning and before bedtime. But now he only kiss me once or sometime he does not kiss me at all.

"He haven’t, can you help me wake him up handsome?" I look up and smile at Charles and kiss him on the lips.

“Of course i can.” He replies and leaves his phone on the table before goes into our son room, Christian to wake him up.

Just a few seconds after Charles walked into our son room to wake him up, Charles' phone vibrated constanly. i didn't mean to see who’s texted him at first but because it kept vibrate so I thought maybe it was something to urgent and needed my husband so I walked over to grab Charles phone but right at the moment i pick it up, the phone lights up once again and the name Kristiana Bailee was pop up in his phone screen… It’s his ex girlfriend, the famous actress Kristiana Bailee

Everything would've been fine if she hadn't sent another text message saying, "Can't wait to be with you in Italy baby… does your wife know?"

My heart just drop imediatly, don’t know how to react, should i throw his phone away? she even calls my husband baby? and then I heard Charles's voice coming out of Christian's room and I quickly turn off the phone, put it back down and wiped all my tears away before Charles could see it.

I walk over and put breakfast i just made on the table for Charles and Christian and i turned walk straight to our share bedroom. He notice it’s very unusual for me to skip breakfast today, I never skip breakfast because it's so important.

"Wait Y/n, you don't eat breakfast today?" Charles asked

"Yea, i feel a bit dizzy because i couldn't sleep last night, so I'm still a bit tired now, please wake me up at 8am so I can get Christian change and then we have to arrive at the airport on time" I said but still didn't turn to look at Charles, because I was afraid, I was afraid that if I turned to look into those eyes of Charles again I would see those images, the images of Charles looking at her with those eyes, eyes that I thought were only for me.

The clock strikes 8 o'clock Charles wakes me up, I change Christian's clothes and Charles prepares the car to drive us to the airport on time so we can arrive at London on time and Charles will go to Italy to "her" the famous actress. When we got to the airport, Charles hugged me and Christian tightly

“I love you, mon a'mour and have a safe flight” Charles said and kissed me on the lips, I have to kiss these lips because it will probably be the last kiss from Charles that I get, then he kiss Christian once again

“Charles, you have a safe flight too and enjoy the race baby” I smiled and said, does Charles recognize this smile? a sad smile, “Christian say bye bye papa, see you at home.” I turn to Christian. “Bye bye paapa” His cute little voice makes me feel a bit soothed. Before Charles can say anything, I turned away and got into the plane as fast as i can before he can see another tear run down my eyes

As soon as Christian and I arrived in London, our friends were there to pick us up, no matter what, I will make the most of my days in London and just forget everything that happened back to Monte Carlo.

2 days later

After 2 days spending all my energy for my girls wedding day, today me and Christian had to leave London to go back to Monte Carlo and it’s 6am, we’ve to catch a flight in 9am so i think it’s best to get yourself ready while Christian still asleep. I pack mine and Christian lugguage, after finish I open my phone to check who’s texting me in this early morning, one of my other bestfriend Céline back in Monte Carlo just sent me a link and the next she text me “WTF?! Are you okay?”

I click onto that link, and it’s show an images of Charles and Kristiana kissing eachother at Italy Grand Prix.

The i started to read every single word that was exist in that news

“Three years after Prince Charles Leclerc and Princess Y/n married, people whom attended today race at the Formula 1 Italian Grand Prix got caught Prince Charles Leclerc of Monte Carlo kissing another woman, it is none other than actress Kristiana Bailee, it’s known that the two have a history dating but after 2 years together, the two of them decided to end their relationship then Prince Charles Leclerc found the love of his life is Y/n Y/l/n (Princess Y/n of Monte Carlo now) and together they have a 2-year-old son, Prince Christian Arthur of Monte Carlo.

It could be said that this was an affair and this has led to media criticism of the way Prince Charles Leclerc and actress Kristiana Bailee act in public. Accordingly, Princess Y/m is not present at the Grand Prix race in Italy today is because she has to attend the wedding of her close friend in London.

So far, the Royal Family has not made any announcement about this information.”

My heart sink once again, i felt like i cannot breath anymore… they’re now making it public. During the flight from London back to Monte Carlo, I sat with Christian on my lap and pondered over how to react when I met Charles, I might be angry uncontrollably. As soon as I got home from the airport, I saw Charles' car parked at the front gate of the house, so I gave Christian to the babysitter. I went straight into the living room where Charles was sitting, and as soon as I entered I immediately asked Charles.

“Do you love her? Kristiana Bailee” I ask him with a calm voice and show him the images that those people has taken of them kissing, trying to calm myself down cause i just don’t want to hurt anyone while we’re having this kind of converstion

“Y/n, it’s not what its look like, you have to trus-” He start to explain a little, trying to walk across the big sofa to grab me

“Do you fucking in love with her? CHARLES FUCKING LECLERC! JUST FUCKING ANSWER MY QUESTION” I raise my voice at Charles, then bridge of my nose start to feel uncomfortable and a stream of tears ran down my face. Charles hated to make me cry, he once said to me that i don’t deserve who make me cry… but now here he is the one who make my heartbreak into small pieces and cry my eyes out

“I’m so sorry Y/n, and no i’m not inlove with her. I just don’t fucking know why i’ve done all of this shit” He said with a sad, regret voice then i continued to ask him “How long? Charles how long have you and that bitch been doing this behind my back?”

“You know what Charles, never mind” I didn't even care to hear his answer, I turned and walked out of the room with an unbearably gloomy atmosphere. Charles chased after me and grabbed my arm so tight as if I could disappear into thin air at any moment.

“Please don’t leave, Y/n please” Charles begging me to stay and look straight at me into my eyes

“Charles I already know everything, everything from the day you came to Italy Grand Prix, but I still trust that you would never do such things. But when I found out the truth, and also the everything, it really made me extremely disappointed! Why do you do such things that you’ve promise me? do you think our 9 years relationship and 3 fucking years of marriage doesn't mean anything? If you not think about me when you’re with her, you atleast think of our son Christian, how do you think he would feel when he’s old enough and found out that the reason his parents divorced was because his father was secretly FUCKING another woman behind his mother back? and that’s other woman is his father ex lover. It’s hurt me so bad Charles my heart ache everytime i saw those images got posted everywhere on every social platform” I said while crying, Charles look shock when he heard the word “divorce”

“No we are not going to get a divorce Y/n. Hit me, shout at me or do whatever you want but please don’t get a divorce” Charles said, i snapp back “NO CHARLES THERE ARE NO FUCKING WAY TO WORK THIS SHIT OUT ANYMORE, IT’S OVER” I storm out of our house.

[krazys-ass-emporium]

It is 7 pm here, my dudes.

We can't glomp our way out of this one, boys.

[anacecherry]

Hhhm Im gonna go upstairs and look for something to eat maybe that'll make me feel less miserable

[writingfairycat]

Help My Mind Shut Up

Help My Mind Shut Up - Carlos x Reader (Read here on ao3.)

1,445 words

Summary: You can’t sleep, so you call your boyfriend Carlos for comfort and help.

Additional Tags: gender-ambiguous reader, school stress, phone call, grounding methods, anxiety

As you lay in bed, yawning, you stared at the ceiling of your dorm room. It wasn’t smooth in texture; it had small bumps and ridges like a landscape. Your eyes strained in the darkness to trace the lines. Some of them were neat waves. Sine and cosine waves. The sine of theta over cosine of theta equals tangent theta—

You had been falling asleep for a minute there, but now you were wide awake again. You rolled over and looked at the time on your phone. You squinted at the bright screen and read 2:15 A.M. How was that possible?

Across the room, your roommate slept soundly. You pouted. It wasn’t fair. You wanted to sleep but your mind wouldn’t shut up. You would gladly let Queen Rapunzel hit you in the head with her frying pan if it knocked you out. Maybe she could also sit down with you and review the reasons for Corona’s alliance with Arendelle—augh! Shut up!

It wasn’t time to think about that. It was time to sleep, and it had been for a while. But you couldn’t.

You squinted at your phone again. You didn’t want to disturb your roommate’s slumber, but maybe you could talk to someone else. Yawning, you opened your contacts and tapped to call your boyfriend.

The phone rang thrice before you heard Carlos de Vil’s groggy, perplexed voice say your name on the other end.

“Hey.” You spoke softly so you wouldn’t wake your roommate.

“Hey.” Carlos’s voice was equally soft, probably so he wouldn’t wake up Jay. “Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”

The worry in your boyfriend’s voice brought tears to your eyes. Well, it was a combination of his worry and your stress. Ugh, the stress was enough that pretty much anything could’ve made you cry right then.

“I can’t get to sleep,” you said.

Carlos let that sit for a beat before replying. “Something’s upsetting you. Do you—yawn—want to talk about it?”

“Um. I guess I could?” You stayed on the call but returned your eyes to the ceiling. “I can’t stop thinking about schoolwork.”

“Mm,” Carlos hummed. “Any class in particular?”

“Mostly precalculus and history.”

“History of Auradon?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still have homework to do?”

“No, I . . . I mean, I attempted all of it, but I’m pretty sure I got at least half my precalc homework wrong.”

“I can help you find a tutor in the morning.”

“Do you know someone who could tutor me?” you asked.

“I’ll be able to find someone,” Carlos said with a yawn. “Remember, I’m friends with the king of Auradon, and he knows a lot of people. I’ll find someone to help you.”

“Thanks, hon. That’s so sweet of you.”

“And you said HIstory of Auradon was bugging you, too?”

You sighed. “Yeah. There’s a unit test at the end of the week and I’m so not ready.”

“There are definitely people who can help you with that,” Carlos said. How he managed to sound so confident while also sounding sleepy, you couldn’t figure out.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Are you still feeling bad?” Carlos asked.

The lines on the ceiling turned into royal family trees. You squeezed your eyes shut to block them out. “Gah! Yes!”

“What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “My mind won’t shut up.”

“Hmm.” Your boyfriend was silent on the other end, but you could hear the gears turning in his head. “We need to find something for you to focus on so your brain won’t be able to think of schoolwork.”

“What do I focus on, though?”

“Um . . . have you tried counting sheep?”

You laughed. “Oh, I tried. I can’t count normally anymore. I try to count, but my mind goes to pi over six, pi over three, pi over two, two pi over three—”

“Okay, okay,” Carlos said. “Let’s stay away from numbers. And lines. And curves. And . . . what is the test on Friday about?”

“Royal alliances,” you said with a groan.

“Then let’s stay away from royalty, too.”

“Hard to get away from around here,” you said.

Carlos laughed. “You’re right about that. On my first day in Auradon, every other person I met was royalty.”

You laughed. “I’d love to go far away, maybe second to the right and straight on till morning, if it meant I never had to look at royal lineages ever again.”

“Oh!” Carlos almost interrupted. “I have an idea! Tell me five things you can see right now.”

“Uh . . . it’s dark.”

“Oh, well, um.” You could picture the adorable sheepish look on his face. “Well, it’s not completely dark, is it? You can still see a few things? Maybe five things?”

You looked around the room. Your roommate’s bed appeared colorless in the dark, but you could see its outline. “Bed.”

Between the two beds, the moon shone through the window. “Window. Moon. Curtains. Five things?”

“Five things.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Um . . .” You looked at your desk. “Desk.”

“Good,” said Carlos. “Now what are four things you can touch right now?”

“Uh . . . phone. Bedspread. Pajamas. Um . . .” You switched your phone to your other hand so you could reach out to touch something, anything. The wire of the phone charger brushed against your fingers. “Phone charger.”

“That’s good.” He yawned. “Can you tell me three things you can hear?”

“Your voice,” you said, smiling. Carlos chuckled on the other end of the line. “Your laugh. And . . . um . . . oh! My voice.”

“Good job. What are two things you can smell?”

“Hmm.” You thought about it. You were so used to how your room smelled now, in contrast to the beginning of the school year, that you couldn’t smell it anymore. “Does my room count if I can’t actually smell it?”

“I don’t think so,” Carlos said gently. “Is there anything in the room that smells different?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to focus on your surroundings. You smelled . . . pencils? “Pencils,” you whispered. “I sharpened my pencils not too long before I went to bed.”

“All right. Anything else?”

You sniffed the room again. “There’s a faint smell of laundry detergent on my blanket,” you said.

“That’s your two things,” said Carlos. “One more: what’s one thing you can taste?”

“One thing I can taste,” you echoed. You opened your mouth to taste the air. Nothing. Wait. No. There was—

“There’s still a bit of garlic taste in the back of my mouth,” you said, trying not to giggle. “From dinner. I guess I didn’t get it all when I brushed my teeth.”

Carlos laughed. “Don’t you brush your tongue?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you said between laughs.

“Sounds like I’ve woken you up more,” Carlos said. “Sorry.”

“Maybe, but it’s okay.” You yawned. “Or maybe I’m not more awake?”

Your boyfriend let out a soft, warm chuckle. “Is your mind quieter now?”

“Yeah, but . . . I’m worried it’ll become noisy again. And what if I run out of things I see and hear and touch?”

“I’ve found it helpful to list other things,” Carlos said. “I would list, just to myself, all the dog breeds I can name.”

“I could probably only name five,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t have to be dog breeds,” he said. “It could be anything you know well that gets your mind focused on one thing. Cat breeds, moons of other planets, celebrities with blond hair, InstaRoyal models.”

You laughed and yawned again. “I might try cat breeds, at least at first.”

“That’s good. I hope you get to sleep soon, babe,” Carlos said in his gentle voice.

“Thank you, hon.”

“Good night. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. You placed your phone back on your nightstand and returned your unfocused gaze to the ceiling.

Cat breeds, Carlos’s voice echoed in your memory. You imagined cuddling with him on Evie’s couch, his arms encircling you as you listed off cat breeds.

Siamese. Persian. Burmese. Tonkinese. Oriental Shorthair. Oriental Longhair. Himalayan. Him a sittin’. Him a standin’. Oh, he a-comin’. Heheh. Focus. Cat breeds, cat breeds. Uh, Ragdoll? The rexes, the rexes. Cornish Rex. Devon Rex. British Shorthair. Russian Blue. The blue one from France, what was its name? Bordeaux? Or was that a type of candy? Maybe you would have candy tomorrow.

What were you thinking about?

Right. Cat breeds.

The swimming one, the swimming one—the Turkish Van. Persian. You already said that. Abyss . . . Abyssinian? Yeah. Sphinx. Wirehair. The ears, the ears ones. Scottish Fold. American Curl. Amer . . . American Shorthair. Norwegian Forest Cat. Maine C . . .

You had fallen asleep.

[sineala]

Hi Sine, would you like to talk about this SIM Tony idea you have 😏

This is ALL PHOENIX’S FAULT because I am not supposed to be having any more ideas until I finish this Trek AU, but. But. Yes.

I don’t know how Phoenix was picturing it, but I figure that Hydra Steve basically wants to run the country with his loved ones, as we can tell from (a) his behavior with Sharon and (b) the part where the entirety of The Oath was literally “Tony, I love you, I wish you were awake.”

So I figure that he has most of a Cosmic Cube, can get a time machine, whatever, and he decides he’s going to get the best Tony, a Tony who definitely wants to help him take over the world, and he gets himself Superior Tony.

He fails to anticipate that:

(1) Even if Tony is evil, Tony is still not a fan of Hydra, because Superior Tony would like to do things that benefit Tony, and Hydra is not necessarily on his side, and also(2) Superior Tony is really, really ruthless, and is not going to hold back, which is a problem when Steve, even Hydra Steve, has always been kind of weak when Tony is around.Hence, strangulation and general disaster.

[eirenical]

I just broke my brain grading things.  I did.  And I didn’t even finish them all.  Because I just CAN’T.  It’s not even the kids who made honest mistakes.  It’s the ones who, despite being given instructions orally multiple times and in writing multiple times, STILL insisted on doing... THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT I TOLD THEM TO DO.  When I have to give you a 1/4 on the rubric just because you didn’t follow directions?  THAT FUCKING PISSES ME OFF.  SERIOUSLY, WTF???

And at this point, I have, oh... 3-4 hours until I have to be awake to go teach?  And I’m irritated AF, so I have a feeling sleep just isn’t going to happen.  And top of that, I kind of feel like death, because I’ve been coughing so much that every muscle in my body hurts.  Also, because of all the coughing, I’ve been having to sleep propped up.  So my neck is so stiff, it's doing a credible imitation of a bar of iron.  And between that, the weather, and the fact that I’m not drinking enough, my head has been killing me all day which is NOT helping things in the overall pain department.

*cries*  WHY DOES EVERYTHING SUCK RIGHT NOW.

(OK, not EVERYTHING.  I got to teach sine and cosine curves this morning and a student actually figured out that they’re the same thing just shifted by pi/2 from each other which is exactly where I was leading them, but it was STILL exciting that he saw it without help.  ^______^  Also, I got to visit friends this weekend, and that was awesome.  ^_^  So... not EVERYTHING.  Just... a lot of things.  :P)

[roemerbo]

Finding the Light: Connor Rk800 x Reader - Part 1

“Jesus Connor, will you knock it off?! Quit sulking already, it’s been 2 days!”

Hank sauntered groggily into his living room, still in his pajamas. It was 11:06am, perhaps a little late for an on duty lieutenant to be waking up in the morning, but fuck it he thought, I can’t leave him like this anymore. Ever since the android revolution, Connor had been sitting, completely still as only an android could do, with his head in his hands on Hank’s couch. For the first time in 2 days, Connor looked up from his hands and at Hank, though he avoided direct eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Anderson. I won’t sulk anymore.” he returned, then proceeded to sit up straight and stare straight ahead, still as a stone.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Move over.”

Connor shifted to the side to make room for Hank to sit down next to him, though he did not acknowledge his partner further. They sat in silence for a moment, Hank staring straight at Connor with annoyance on his face. Connor did not react. Another moment passed and, finally, Hank got up suddenly and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. The sudden movement gave Connor a jolt, though just a slight one as he was designed to be prepared for any kind of human spontaneity.

“Why are you doing this to me, Connor?!” Hank shouted at the android who met his gaze for the first time since the revolution. “This makes the normal you seem less annoying. I can’t believe I’m saying I might prefer it to this shit you’re pulling.”

In response to Hank’s outburst, Connor let out a little sigh. “It’s just that…” Connor paused for a split second, running simulations in his head of how to best explain his situation to Hank. “Since I’m now a … deviant,” he winced, ever so slightly that Hank almost didn’t even notice, “I feel … lost.” Connor’s LED began to glow yellow as he processed what he was saying.

“Well, that’s gotta be normal right? I had a phase once in high school when I wanted to stick it to my parents so I…” Hank’s voice trailed off as he wondered whether or not giving details on his childhood was really such a good idea when talking to an android whose memory was infinite. “What happened wasn’t important! Let’s just say I rebelled a little, finally was making decisions for myself, fucked up my life a bit, but got it all set straight in the end. Happy ending and all that shit. Maybe you’re just in the need of some soul searching, if androids have those, anyway.”

Connor’s LED continued to glow yellow, but he sat there staring at Hank’s feet motionless.

“Jesus, Connor, say something!”

Connor jumped to his feet at the end of Hank’s exclamation, almost knocking the older man off his feet.

“It’s not that simple Hank! From the moment I was created until just a few days ago I was nothing but a machine! Cyberlife… blocked out so many things. So many emotions. And now, suddenly, I’m feeling EVERYTHING! I can’t stop replaying all of those choices I made with the intent of completing Amanda’s mission in my head. I just wish I would’ve realized sooner. I could’ve saved so many people. So many androids.”

SMACK

Hank punched Connor. Connor froze in his recoil, then snapped back as always. “Why did you …?”

“You obviously needed a little sense knocked into that processor of yours! Sitting there regretting… well, it’s not good for you. Take it from someone who understands, got it?”

Connor nodded slowly. Then he laughed. It was quiet, and sounded a little pained, but it was a refreshing contrast to the sulking Hank was getting uncomfortably familiar with.

“You alright, kid?”

“Maybe not yet, but who’s to say what will happen in time? Besides, I can hardly continue to pester you about your drinking and your bouts of Russian roulette if I sit here ruminating on your couch, can I?” Connor flashed Hank a small smile, his LED finally returning to its calming blue hue. “Since you’re awake, what do you say we head to the station? It’s been a while since I’ve been there and I think a little hard work will take my mind off of all this. I received a message that there had been a homicide early this morning, and we’re on the case.”

An hour later, Hank’s car rolled up to a small suburban house. Heavy metal blasted from inside the car, but the noise barely disturbed the crime scene where a collection of officers spoke and recorded evidence. The partners exited the car and strolled up the sidewalk. Hank sported his usual choice of a quirky shirt fit more for a retiree vacation than a crime scene. Connor, however, had his usual Cyberlife jacket replaced with a brand new one that lacked serial numbers and android identification. An unknowing bystander could’ve easily mistaken him for a human, had he not been flicking a quarter between his fingers with accuracy impossible to men. As they crossed the holographic police tape, Hank was immediately greeted by another officer, who gave him the run down of the scene. It was a homicide, two dead, one missing. It had seemed like another android attacker, who had also fled the scene. Another officer spoke up.

“Hard to believe these damn androids are still out here killing people. What more could these fuckers want? They already drove half the population out of Detroit, selfish bastards.” He glanced over at Connor and waited, as if expecting an explanation.

“Well, Officer Brown, since androids have been freed from their limiting software that made them into machines that blindly followed orders, they’ve become remarkably similar to humans. They feel, they make decisions, and they can even act unpredictable. Many of them suffer PTSD like symptoms from the abuse they’ve received from humans who owned them, and frankly, your attitude shows little chance of improving the situation.”

“Psh, fuckin’ androids! Think they know everything…” and with a huff, Officer Brown turned and walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“Connor, something tells me you won’t be able to change everybody’s minds. Don’t worry about those assholes.” Hank reassured. “Now be on the lookout for any evidence of what might’ve caused this mess. And please, don’t put any evidence in you’re fuckin’ mouth.”

“Got it!” Connor nodded Hank off and turned towards the house. It was quaint. Pretty standard for the area, not exactly low income but not rich either. He stepped up to the door and walked inside, his head held high. Connor, staying true to his design, felt the most confident at crime scenes where he could hone his expertise. A quick glance at the living room was deceptive to the untrained eye. Not a thing looked out of place. Family photos hung from the walls, a bowl of fruit - definitely wax - adorned the coffee table. The lacy curtains were drawn, letting the bright, midday sun filter into the room and give it a homey glow. Yes, it was a nice a home. A nice home that now held the remains of a dead family inside. This thought made Connor stop in his tracks. He felt what he could only describe as a tightness in his hardwear, right at his chest. Perhaps my thirium pump needs to be checked? he wondered. I’ll run a diagnostic after we leave the crime scene. He scanned the room, looking for any out of place details. Everything seemed eerily in place, that is, except for a single one of the photos on the wall. It was as if one of the five round frames had been moved very recently. Could be nothing, or maybe not, he thought to himself. Connor got closer to the photo and looked at it closely. It was a young girl and her parents, and what looked like a fourth figure cut out of the picture. Barely an arm was visible, but sine the cut had been made, the photo was now awkwardly cropped in the frame. The family that lived here, in the briefing it said that the parents were killed, wonder where the little girl is now.

Connor scanned their faces:

Marybeth Y/L/N, 49

Alexander Y/L/N, 53

Y/N Y/L/N, Y/A

Seems she’s not such a little girl like the picture suggests anymore.

Connor moved his analyzation of the house upstairs where the murder had taken place. At the top of the landing it was as if the entire aura of the home had changed. The floors were scuffed from what looked like a chair holding a heavy weight being dragged across the floor. There were 4 doors in the hallway of the second floor. All of them had been opened by the investigating officers, but 2 hung off their hinges as if they were broken into. Connor Looked down at the marks on the floor. No chairs downstairs, did the attacker bring them all up here? Connor stepped lightly down the hallways and peered into the first room. A bedroom with a single bed, everything torn off of the walls, a desk upturned, closet emptied. Probably Y/N’s room. He stepped inside and scanned the room. He was looking for something, but it seems like he couldn’t find it. Was he looking for Y/N? Or did she escape after the attack began? The window was open and a small breeze blew the curtains gently. He scanned the windowsill to reveal fingerprints, a quick analysis confirmed they were Y/N’s. He turned his attention to the tree standing tall next to the house. She climbed out the window and down the tree. Connor picked up a hint of blood on a sharp branch. He brushed the curtain out of his way and began to climb out the window.

“Connor! What are you doing now?” Hank shouted as he passed the room with another officer.

“I’m going to check something!” Connor yelled back and he turned his attention back to climbing out the window.

“That boy needs help.” Hank mumbled as he walked away, continuing his conversation with the other officer.

Connor climbed gently onto the tree and inched himself over to the sharp branch protruding from the tree. He glanced back into the room looking for Hank before touching the blood and bringing the sample to his lips. A quick analysis confirmed it was indeed Y/N’s blood, yet it had been there for at least a week. Y/N wasn’t reported missing before the murders, she must’ve climbed out often. Sneaking out? As he prepared to climb back into the house, he sensed the presence of someone else nearby. Standing there, by the base of the tree, was Y/N.

“Y/N! Wait right there, ok!?” Connor shouted to her. But she didn’t react to his call. She glanced around outside of her house, at all the commotion surrounding it. Connor dropped down from the tree and walked over to her.

“You should come with me for now, Y/N. Please, trust me.” Connor quietly tried to convince her.

“Who… what…” SHe barely formed a sentence before her world went dark and she collapsed. Moving quickly, Connor caught her in his arms and sighed. He lifted her gently and carried her around the house to the front door. He approached Hank, who just stared at him incredulously.

“Hank, this is Y/N. I’m afraid she fainted when she saw me and realized what was going on. Please see to it that she gets medical attention so we can talk to her later.”

“I’m getting too old for this shit…” Hank sighed as he called for paramedics. Connor kneeled down and gently laid her in the soft grass. She looked so peaceful like that, but Connor winced at the though of the news that awaited her when she woke up. He got a sudden urge that felt a lot like the ones he’d get when his software pressured him to complete tasks. He felt that he had to protect her. After all she was so vulnerable, so unprepared, so … beautiful. Connor shook his head to break himself away from his thoughts. Where was all this coming from? These strange emotions he was feeling, he wasn’t used to this. He stood up quickly and turned back to the house. He had to get his priorities back in order. He needed to discover as much as he could at the crime scene before Hank was ready to leave. He could question Y/N later, for now, she’d be safe with Hank.

Connor returned upstairs. Two of the other rooms proved to be empty, a bathroom and a linen closet. The last room, at the end of the hallway, awaited him. The scuffs on the floor continued into the room, the bedroom of Y/N’s parents. Inside, the two adults sat propped in chairs, tied around the waist as well as by their hands. Both had been shot through the chest with impeccable aim, the work of a rogue android. The room was littered with destroyed photos and knickknacks, as if anything that held any kind of sentimental value was sought out and ransacked right in front of the couple. A gun sat in the middle of the floor, pinning down a note written in perfect lettering. Connor analyzed the gun, no fingerprints. Then, he turned his attention to the note, which read:

A punishment fit for the crime they committed. Her sins will not be forgiven; when the light finds her she shall also be smote.

The android felt wronged and was enacting revenge on this family, maybe he was the one cut out of the picture downstairs? Connor flipped the note over, it was written on the back of a photo of the family, although this one was taken more recently. Marybeth and Alexander were crossed out with blood, only Y/N’s visage remained unscathed. He’s after Y/N, I have to protect her.

[trickybonmot]

How to Sleep at Con!

I’m not going to be at 221 B Con this year, due to the fact that my body is the sole source of nourishment for a tiny person. :-( But I've had this post percolating in my brain since last year, so here it is!

If you are a young’n, you probably aren’t worried about getting enough sleep over the con weekend. But if you are an old, like me, you are probably secretly thinking “ugghhhhh so much fun but so much tired”. And you probably either a)can’t sleep in because you have oldie wake-up-early-no-matter-what syndrome (The sky’s awake, so I’m awake!!), or b)have to get up early to catch a super fun breakfast outing with your best pals that you haven’t seen in a whole year (hi guys, hope you enjoy those incredible grits without me). So! How can you make sure you get some sleep? Here’s how!

1. Dress Warm if You’re Sharing a Bed Sounds counterintuitive, right? Other bodies are warm. But if you’re sharing a bed with a totally platonic online acquaintance, chances are you won’t be snuggling (or, if you are both snugglers, then just ignore this bullet point, I guess). You will be lying far apart with a breezy gap between you, and there will, inevitably, be some conflict over who gets the blanket. Why fight that battle when you can just wear a hoodie? Unless you’re one of those freaks who likes to have the AC turned down to 50 degrees all night, it definitely pays to bundle up rather than make do with your usual threadbare sleepytime ensemble.

2. Do Your Bedtime Routine If you have been partying all night, you may be tempted to just collapse in a heap when you get back to your room. But then you will inevitably find yourself lying awake with excited thoughts swirling in your mind. Going through a routine will calm you down and signal to your mind and body that it’s time to rest now, so do spend the extra few minutes to take a shower, brush your teeth, pluck your chin-hairs...whatever you would normally do.

3. Keep Your Feet Warm This is a weird one, I know, but if my feet are cold at bed time, I. Can. Not. Sleep. If you’ve been wearing weird cosplay shoes or something, chances are your feet are not comfy at the end of the day. So include in your routine either a nice shower or a little foot-soak in the bath tub, and then put on a pair of cozy socks while you do the rest of your stuff. Personally, I find this really helps.

4. Time Your Exit Did you know that sleep scientists have determined that human alertness works on a 90 minute cycle? It’s true. About every 90 minutes, your body goes through a sine wave of activity, from drowsy to alert and back down to drowsy again. That low point of drowsiness is the sweet spot to lie down and go to sleep. And if you miss that moment, your body starts ramping up again with energizing neurochemicals (cortisol, I think? idk this is just a quick post you guys) to keep you going through another cycle. So, don’t head to your room when you feel sleepy, as by the time you feel like crashing, you’ve probably already missed the window. Rather, notice when a wave of drowsiness hits, look at the clock, and plan to be lying in your bed all cosy and toothbrushed and warm-footed 90 minutes in the future. One thing you might notice: the more sleep-deprived you are, the more dramatic these cycles can feel, as your body assumes that there must be some urgent situation that’s keeping you from going to sleep, so it pumps you full of super extra wakey-juice to help you power through! This is why you get so hyped up and giggly late at night, and why you crash so hard when you finally do crash. So when you feel that giddy peak of excitement, get ready to say nighty-night in about half an hour (even though it will be really hard to tear yourself away).

5. Set Boundaries Uh-oh, is your room the party room?? You’re screwed! Seriously, if you are an Old who needs to get a decent amount of sleep, communicate with your roommates ahead of time about whether it’s okay to have other people visit the room and what time you’d prefer to hit the hay. The party can always find another place to be so that everyone can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for fun the next day. 

This concludes my thoughts on getting some sleep at con! Hope somebody finds it helpful. <3

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters short story #6.

“Tía Clary!!!” Rafael exclaims in delight, running straight to his aunty when he arrives at the institute with his fathers and brother. Clary and Jace had found out they were expecting their first child, eight months ago.The pregnancy was not planned but Clary and Jace were delighted when they found out, and all their friends and family were extremely pleased for them too, but Max and Rafael were the most excited out of the whole family, they simply couldn’t wait to meet their little cousin, and since Clary is due any day now, they’re always asking everyone if their cousin has been born yet, it’s the first thing they ask Magnus and Alec every morning, it’s been like that for the past week. 

“Ía! Ía!” Max squeals, still not able to pronounce his Ts. Before Rafe had become part of the family, when Max was just a baby, Clary and Isabelle were referred to as ‘Aunty’ But then when Rafe came home and didn’t have very good English, he started calling them Tía, then when Max began to talk, he copied his big brother. The boys called their uncles ‘Tío’ and their grandparents ‘Abuela’ and ‘Abeulo’. Magnus and Alec didn’t want Rafe to loose his Spanish either, so they encourage him to use Spanish in his day to day life, it rubs off on Max too, who has picked up a few words from his big brother,and  at 3 and 6 both boys are almost bilingual. 

“Hello my sweet boys.” Clary says, embracing her nephews as they wrap their arms around her and rest their dark heads on her swollen stomach. Looking up at Clary with hope in his dark eyes, Rafe asks in a hopeful tone 

“Tía, baby come soon?” After being home for a little over a year Rafe’s English is quiet good but not as advanced as 6 year old who spoke English all their life, thankfully most of the family now spoke and understand a good bit of Spanish and it’s much easier for Rafe to communicate with everyone, whereas before he had to have Magnus (who is fluent in Spanish among many other languages) translate everything for him. 

Clary smiles softly at her nephew and runs her hand through his dark hair and softly says 

“I hope so, mijo, I hope so.” 

Max presses his cheek to Clary’s belly and softly says 

“Come out, we want meet you.” Clary kisses his head full of dark blue hair and gently says 

“They’ll come out when their good and ready, and I promise you and Rafe can be the first to hold them, okay?” Both boys eyes’ light up and Max asks

“Really?!” 

“Yes! I promise not even Simon will get to hold the baby before you two do.” Rafe and Max adored Simon, they thought he was the funniest person on earth, Max loved playing pirates with him and watching movies with him, whereas Rafael loved when Simon played his guitar and sang for him, Simon had been teaching Rafael to play the guitar and has plans to buy him a guitar of his own for his birthday. 

Jace lifts Max up and sets him on his shoulders and says 

“You boys want to do some training with your dad and I? Rafe you’ve got a great sword grip, and Max, little blueberry you’re a lot stronger than you look! You’ll both be better than me and your dad in no time!” 

“Yeah!! Daddy come on!!” Rafe says, grabbing Alec’s wrist and pullinghim towards the stairs. 

“Rafe is really coming out of his shell!” Clary says, as she and Magnus walk toward the kitchen, where they usually drink coffee and chat while their husbands do some some training with the little ones. 

“It’s probably because he’s getting better at English and has settled here now, it took him a while, naturally, but he’s not as worried that if we’re not by his side all day every day, we’ll never come back. It was difficult at first, with Rafe, sine he naturally was much more clingy than Max, but I wouldn’t trade him or those first few difficult weeks for anything, you’ll see soon, Clarissa dear, being a parent is a wonder like nothing else.” 

“I can’t wait.” Clary softly says, gently running her hand down her stomach and smiling to herself, silently urging her baby to hurry up and be born, so she can meet the one person she knows she will always love no matter what. 

*2 Days later* 

“Hello?” Alec groggily answers his phone. He had barely been awake two minutes when his phone began to ring, Max and Rafe had woken he and Magnus up at the crack of dawn as usual, running into their room and jumping on the bed, and jumping on them, but Alec wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“Alec, I-I’m a dad, I-I have a daughter, Clary went into labor last night and our daughter was born an hour ago.” Jace stutters out, clearly in awe and disbelief. Alec pushes himself up so that he’s sitting against the headboard and says 

“Oh Jace that’s wonderful! Congratulations! What did you call her?” 

“Amelia Jocelyn Herondale, Millie for short, and Alec, by the angel she is the most perfect person on earth, she’s so beautiful and sweet and perfect, I love her so much.” Jace says, sounding happier than Alec has ever heard him.

“Oh congratulations Jace, we’ll be around soon to meet her and see you and Clary.” Alec says, smiling fondly as he remembers falling totally and utterly in love with Max and Rafe, the same way Jace has fallen head over heals in love with his daughter. 

“Okay, see you then.” Jace says. Once Alec has hung up, he turns to the boys, who are gently patting and stroking Chairman Meow, who has joined them in the bed, curled up in a ball by Magnus’ feet. 

“Max, Rafe, I have some good news.” Alec says. 

“Qué es, daddy?” Rafe asks, turning away from the cat and crawling the small distance from Magnus to Alec, with Max following behind him as usual. 

“I just got a call from your uncle Jace, your cousin Amelia was born an hour ago and she’s waiting to meet you, so the sooner you get up, eat your breakfast and get dressed, the sooner you can meet your cousin.” Alec says. 

As the boys scramble from the bed, Rafe says 

“But daddy, can’t abuela make breakfast?’ Before Maryse stepped down as head of the institute and Clary and Jace took over, she would always make breakfast for her grandsons when they were visiting in the morning, she always made them food regardless of what time they visited at, and then she would take them up to the weapons room to help them with their training. 

“Abuela won’t be there Rafe, not today, she had to go to Idris for work.” Alec gently says.  

As all four of them (and Chairman meow) head into the kitchen, Rafael says 

“Oh, but we see her again soon, right?” 

“Of course, mijo, Abuela will be back tomorrow and she’ll come visit us after she’s visited Millie, okay?” Alec softly says, knowing that Rafe still struggles with understanding that just because someone is gone for a while, it doesn’t mean they aren’t coming back. 

“Okay, will Abeulo be there?” Rafe asks, sliding into his seat at the kitchen table. 

“I’m sure he will be, Rafe.” Alec gently says. In the next hour, the boys are fed, clean and dressed and Magnus and Alec even manage to have breakfast, and get dressed without interruption from either of the boys, soon all four of them are out the door (almost all 5 when Max tried to sneak Chairman out, under his coat) and on their way to the institute. 

*The institute* 

As Clary happily gazes at the golden haired baby girl sleeping on her chest, she hears the door to the infirmary creak open and Jace walks in with Max and Rafe on either side of him and Magnus and Alec behind him. He smiles radiantly at her, still overjoyed to be a father, and softly says 

“We have visitors.” Clary smiles weakly at the boys, exhausted from the birth and labor, and quietly says 

“Hey, come say hi to Millie.” The boys quietly make their way to her bedside and gaze in awe at their cousin. 

“Hola Millie.” Rafe quietly says, gently stroking the baby’s golden curls. 

“She so tiny.” Max says in awe, as Millie reaches out and grabs his finger. 

“Rafe do you want to hold her?” Clary gently asks. Rafael’s eyes light up, he nods enthusiastically and says 

“Sí! Sí!” Max sticks his little blue lip out in a huff and in a small voice says 

“I want hold her!” As Clary helps Rafael support Millie, Jace gently says 

“You will get to hold her, Max, Clary asked Rafe first because he’s the oldest.” Before Max can get jealous even further, Alec picks him up and gently says 

“When my little brother, that you’re named after, was born, I got to hold him first because I was the oldest, then Tía Izzy got to hold him, its’the only fair way, since you and Rafe can’t hold Millie at the same time.” Max still isn’t entirely happy until Millie is nestled in his arms. He kisses her tiny forehead and softly says 

“I keep safe.” 

“Yo también.” Rafe softly says, gently stroking Millie’s cheek. 

Over the next few weeks the boys proved to be wonderful big cousins, when Millie was upset and crying, Rafe would sing her a Spanish lullaby and almost every time, she stopped crying and watched Rafe in awe, or she fell asleep. As Max (and Rafe) saw Simon as the funniest person alive, Millie saw her big cousin Max as the funniest person ever, he was always pulling silly faces at her, blowing raspberries on her tummy, telling her silly stories and making up silly dances for her, Millie loved it, she loved her big cousins just as much as they loved her, and in years to come, Millie- though well able to to defend herself- would always have her big cousins to look out for her and keep her safe. 

*Disclaimer* I don’t speak Spanish, I never have, I wish I had of learned it but I believe it wasn’t available in my school until I had already chosen my subjects for my last two years. I got most of the Spanish I use in this story from google and SpanishDict, so it may not be 100% accurate, if any of it is wrong in anyway, please let me know and I’ll happily fix it.! 

[biomedgrid]

Biomed Grid | The Quest for Reality

Introduction

Most of us take the world for real. It seems almost ridiculous to question this, after all we can’t walk through walls, and we know that if we won’t stay in the correct lane while driving, there is an acute danger of a head-on collision. We know this from the history of traffic accidents. As a consequence, we generally respect the traffic rules. The laws of physics, in other words. We trust them implicitly. We can observe them every day and all day long. Their regularity inspires us with confidence, and so our trust in the reality of the world is constantly reinforced. This trust is even more enhanced when we compare our daily waking experience with our nocturnal dreams. They are ethereal and fluid in comparison with the day’s encounters. Every night they seem to take place in a different locality, while in waking we are mostly bound to one place and if we do move away from it, we trust that it will still be there in the same state we had left it when we return. And since we regularly find that it is as expected, our trust in the reality of the world is complete.

Not so with our dreams. There we only seldom return to the same place, and when we do, it is more of a feeling that we have been there before rather than a distinct physiological recognition of house and home.

It is for this reason that we consider dreams to be little more than virtual reality. By this we mean that although they feel real while dreaming, they vanish into thin air when we wake up from them. Often, we declare them to be absurd, and many of us consider them to be nothing more substantial than ‘random’ neuronal sparking off. But if we afford waking greater scrutiny, we find that it too requires neuronal sparking. In other words, dreaming and waking stand on common ground in this respect. Both states require a functioning brain. So, we must ask, is the difference between the two states merely in the order of its sparking? Put another way: is the dream due to ‘random’ sparking while waking is the result of ‘controlled’ sparking in the brain?

Although this is a rather crude distinction between the two states, it has some merit. For they both share intermittency of occurrence. It is here that we must pause and ask ourselves if something that is interrupted in its flow so abruptly and completely was worthy of reality status? Indeed, are we not obliged to attribute the same irreality status to waking as we do to dreaming, even though we feel that waking is of more palpable substance than our dreams? We are, for once we recall that dreams feel no less real while dreaming, we discover yet another common trait between the two states. We may struggle to concede yet concede we must. It gets worse for our habitual view of the world. It is not only as unreal as a dream after waking up from it, but it is also as personal as the dream. Indeed, the universe is a private affair. Put most succinctly: the world is not an objective reality, but a solipsistic fact. Again, we struggle to concede, yet concede we must. To put it quite simply: objects have no point of view. The subject alone has a point of view; hence there is no such thing as an objective world.

The world and its myriad of things might as well be a dream. Like a dream it arises in the morning as we wake up, and like a dream after waking, it disappears as we go to sleep. But surely, so we protest, the world must exist to all those who are still awake, which must be testimonial to the fact that the world is real and continues to exist when we go to sleep. Although a tempting inference, logically it is untenable, for this is a double premise. Indeed, one cannot have more than one point of view at one and the same time. Ergo, the world is a private projection in the same way as is the dream. Certainly, in the end the difference between dreaming and waking consists merely of the direction of their respective projections: While the dream is an inward ‘projection’, waking is an outward screening. In order to afford this finding a closer look, let us go down to the lake for a moment where all this will explain itself. There we spot the glistening water wherein we discover a spectacular world of reflections. Let us assume that all we can see there is the water with its mirrored images. With that in view, we realise at once that the reflections in the water are representative of the world of waking as well as of the world of dreams. Both worlds are in need of that water, neither of them will come into existence without it.

So what does water stand for? It stands for that without which there is nothing, nothing, no think. In other words, it is the ‘substance’ that supports the stream of thoughts, which creates both dream and waking experience. Without thought there are no things. But what is it that carries the stream of thoughts? What is it that infuses the sense of reality into the imagery conjured up? It can only be one ‘thing’ Consciousness is indeed the sine qua non of existence. There are biologists who argue that consciousness arises from biological processes. Since such scholars assume that matter was created first with consciousness arising out of it, they must believe in an objective reality. In view of our previous argument, objectivism is logically untenable. Hence the process can be valid only in reverse: it is consciousness that emanates matter. It can hardly be any other way for without consciousness matter or anything else is non-existent. Thus consciousness is to be seen as Primary Reality, while matter can only be regarded as relative, or indeed, ‘parasitical’ reality, much as are the reflections in the water of our lake.

Of course, it has to be said that the water of our lake analogy is not the kind of water whose reflections are dependent on the surroundings of the lake. You will recall that I have stated that we were unable to see what it was around. By saying that was heralding the special quality of the water of our lake: unlike ordinary water it is capable of In short, for its play of light and shade, its colours and shapes it has no need of surrounding features such as of land, trees and houses, of people, ducks and geese. Its power of ‘reflection’ is inherent. I have maintained that it was consciousness that gave us the sense of reality. But I have also said that anything that is intermittent cannot be regarded as real. Only something that remains constant and essentially unaltered can qualify for reality status. So the prime question here is if consciousness meets these qualifications. In short, is consciousness continuous or intermittent?

At first sight it definitely seems to be an intermittent phenomenon for we say of the man, for instance, who suffered a blow to his head and lies there motionless that he is unconscious. Yet when he comes to himself, we realise that he was only unresponsive to the outside world. Now that he is aware of his surroundings again and knows who he was before he was knocked out, we must conclude that his consciousness remained continuous. In fact his condition is little different from the man who has fallen asleep and is able to relate his dreams when he wakes up again. The recall of his dreams is evidence that his consciousness remained intact. Resorting to our lake analogy for a moment, we might say that the ‘water of consciousness’ remained in its place. Had his ‘lake’ been drained, he would not have been able to regain self-awareness.

But what about the ‘water of consciousness’ of the man or woman we consider to be dead? Was their ‘water of consciousness’ drained? Until doctor Moody’s book, “Life after Death”, came along in 1975, the received perception of death was fairly uniform: it meant the end of existence, a break in human consciousness. Moody himself had no doubt that ‘life’ continued after what we term death, that consciousness was not extinguished and that the individual, although discarnate, retained its identity and lived on in a different realm.

His research was naturally heavily criticised. But then, in 1998, a book came on the market that contained a report on an NDE that fulfilled all the requirements of impeccable scientific observation, procedural reporting and indubitable substantiation. In other words the report was underpinned by the fact that there were numerous professionals at the scene of the NDE to witness the case. The book in question is called “Light and Death” by Michael Sabom, M.D. (Zondervan Publishing House, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 49530. ISBN 0-310-21992-2).

The numerous professionals present, over twenty in all, consisted of doctors, nurses and medical technicians, all of whom attended Dr. Spetzler’s daring operation on a basilar artery aneurism that was inaccessible along the usual pathways of operations. (Opus cit. 35) Understandably under such circumstances the “documentation far exceeds any recorded before and provides us with our most complete scientific glimpse yet into the near-death experience”. (Opus cit. 38) Spetzler’s highly original approach, requiring the draining and cooling of the patient’s blood, known as hypothermic arrest was nicknamed ‘stand still’ by the attending doctors. And rightly so, for this procedure results in a complete shut down of all signs of life. In brief, during such an operation the body temperature is a mere 60 degrees Fahrenheit (15.55 C) while the lungs draw no breaths, the heartbeat is flat-lined and the EEG registers no brain waves at all.

In other words, as Sabom writes: “In everyday terms she would be dead.” She was Pam Reynolds, a woman in her thirties whose life hung on a very thin thread, who was now in a state that would be classed by any medical standards as dead. Dead not just for minutes, but for over an hour. Yet, like Lazarus, she returned to life to everyone’s relief and amazement. She returned safely and well to her reheating body. But even more amazingly, the story she had to relate backed up all the essential characteristics Moody had observed in the NDEs of his interviewees. Pam, like so many other near-death patients travelled into the ‘Elysian Fields’ along a wellestablished route reported by Moody and many other authors on NDEs. “It was like a tunnel but it wasn’t a tunnel”, Pam recounted.

What is of no less interest to us here is the way Pam’s crossing of the ‘River Styx’ began: She felt she was being pulled out of the top of her head and as she got further away from it she could see several things in the operating room when she was looking down. ‘It was not like normal vision. It was brighter and more focused and clearer than normal vision.’ (Ibid) Pam’s report not only backed up Moody’s observations but also put to rest all the arguments about a spirit world where one’s relations are encountered after death. It also showed that the senses of our body are not a primary function, but a secondary one; one that in fact is of a lesser quality than primary sensing.

From such evidence we must infer that contrary to common perception NDEs support the notion that consciousness exists separately from the brain and is non-intermittent, so alone qualifying for reality status. It is in fact the ground of all life, which is inherent in consciousness.

Sceptics strenuously search for flaws in the report of Pam Reynolds’ case. There are no flaws. Despite of this some will maintain that Pam had her transcendental experience of meeting her long deceased grandmother and uncle before her body was clinically dead, before her brainwaves ceased. This was not so. The end of her NDE ‘trip’ verifies this: “My grandmother didn’t take me back through the tunnel…My uncle said he would do it…But then I got to the end of it and saw the thing, the body, I didn’t want to get into…It was communicated to me that it was like jumping into a pool of iced water. (“Light and Death”; Michael Sabom M.D. page 40) and so it must have felt on her return to body-consciousness, for her drained blood was reinfused into her body before it reached the normal 37 degrees. It was in fact a mere 32 Celsius when Pam was de-instrumented and returned to waking consciousness. (Opus cit. page 46-7) Clearly, up to that point her body, the ‘thing’ she saw in her transcendental mode, was still clinically dead.

There can be no doubt that consciousness is not generated by the brain, but that it is the deathless Ocean of Absolute Reality and Life in which we and all creation ‘reflect’ at times in a world of waking, at times in the world of dreams and other times as etheric light beings in the realm of our ancestors from whence we reincarnate again and again until our karmic round comes to an end in the Void which is the Absolute, the Source of all there was, is and will be.

Read More About this Article: https://biomedgrid.com/fulltext/volume3/the-quest-for-reality.000663.php

For more about: Journals on Biomedical Science :Biomed Grid

[gethuve]

A little more normal. Or. "Now I looke more calm and rested :D"

Gonna go for a 14 km walk just for the fun, I've done that through the woods the other night. Rehearsing screams, growls, singing, falsett, baritone, meso isch? Singing really loud and becoming more and more proud of it to.

To rehearse sining i started to sing Hurulas songs. It was fun.

I hope to find myself a big stone I can enjoy the moonlight in.

As I said. I AM CHANGING MY SLEEP AND WAKE PATTERNS TO.

Awake between 18-06.

Sleep beetween 06 and 18.

Awesome right? :D

And if my something tries to fuck w my patterns, I got the antidote to push myself into my own "order" of patterns.

I fucking love walking through the woods in the night, even though it scares the living fuck out of me.

Since my psykosis, everything, became "scary. And with a fight and flight on, I have to push myself through things I enjoyed before, that I am scared of now so I can become "nerml".

Which I will never be if I get pushed into social convents and other things.

I have just started to relax with the people I've been surrounded with, it took 2 months.

First time ever since moving from the fucking hell whole from south.

Cheers. N fuck off.

Edit. This is one of the first pictures in years I think I look rested and calm and not psykotic, suicidal or depressed.

Cheers for a normal looking picture where one embraces one self ♡

And cheers for all diagnosed fighters out there :)

[xdemondrinker-a]

GUESS WHO’S BEEN AWAKE SINE LIKE 10 PM LAST NIGHT ( it’s almost 2 pm now ) -finger guns at dash- 

[polystumbles]

Diary 8/21/2016: The Past, Perfect, Tense

So much happening. The aftermath of my Mom’s intervention. Processing nearly breaking up with Z after her parents’ visit (which is really the first time in a while I process such a thing with Amy). Duane and Z have a late evening. Z and I find a way to process that as well. Z finds incredible words with which to say I love you in her own language. 

Sunday in the early AM, Amy and I took my little brother and his family to the airport they're off to a week-long vacation. We get home and I'm wide awake while Amy wants to nap. So I send the time looking for some rugs for my mother's apartment. I'm trying to treat this like she lost everything to a fire. Only, she didn't lose everything to a fire, she lost everything to hoarding. Still the net effect is the same. Yesterday we had the family intervention and after some tense moments she agreed to go to therapy. I'm going to go with her even though my therapy schedule is getting pretty full. I’ll go at least until she decides that it's going well, and she wants to go on her own.

We spent the rest of the day together took her to drop the kids off and Long Island had some tense moments there as well she almost cried when she saw a record player in the same model that she had. I tried to tell her that hers was broken but soon I realized that there's no point. She's grieving. The lost of stuff is intense. And she has agreed to inspections and therapy, what more could I ask for.

I got home dropped off my mom and sat at table sipping some water. I told her about my conversation with Z. I told her that I felt fine. Even if of course there's a risk. Mostly I told her about our process --about how she had been in taking her time and how we have been talking and how where she didn't feel like communicating. I told her to that the one thing that had changed:I was feeling a bit insecure not so much because of Duane but actually because of the situation with her parents. I feel the call to date again, mostly like I don’t want to know how I’d deal with losing our relationship. Perhaps it's about remembering what it's like to have that new date feeling or just confirming that I'm still a complete freak.

But also I talked with Amy about switching our frame of reference, Z and I, bringing up the invisibilia podcast episode that she and I had just listened to separately. Maybe Z will gain more perspective. A deeper appreciation of what I know: for people like us love is rare. I talk to about our dynamic, Amy and I, and whether we were ready to date someone together again. Or maybe re-visit some of the sexually adventurous spaces that Amy likes. I'm not a casual person but I also wouldn't mind a Poly-comet with the occasional fly by. Or perhaps we should date a couple together? Our dynamic has been adventurous, and if we can't really stand to lose more time from each other perhaps the best thing to do is to find people together. Perhaps thats what we were always doing, perhaps Amy was always just game for anything but safer within my limits.

Sunday morning as Amy laid in bed, and she fell asleep again, I thought about what makes me feel this way right now. Do I need new adventures? No. Not really. I think it’s two fold. In part, I think it’s about the feelings around what loosing Z could mean to my relationship to Amy. Z brings balance. For example, Amy and I had gone the entire week having sex recently, while Z and I probably had 10+ orgasms with Z in that same stretch. I can't avoid the emotional devastation that Z leaving or pulling back would cause, but I can do something about the sexual implications. In keeping with my life philosophy, if it’s far out of my control, I won’t worry about something until it’s a reality. But I can have distracting adventures, I can build a network of people who would nurse me through it. Whereas right now that falls on Amy alone. She'll keep up for a week or two, but she will always return to her natural rhythm.

Sunday coordination with Z did not start off well.  I had emailed her early about the Indian day parade and she didn't get back to me until 11 and with an “I'm leaving, if you want to come” type message. I wasn't sure what had happened at all. Why was she inviting me in this odd way? Was she really inviting me to join?  Does she really want me to come? Maybe she wants to ride down by herself, Maybe Duane slept over and she needed space and time to process, but still wanted to go to this event? She said she might need some more time to herself.. was she in a bind because of a possible rainout tonight? I made the extra effort to catch up with her and ride with her.

When I do reach her, she says she waited some extra time for me on the platform. She had reached out to her friends, but  no one had wanted to join.  So it was go with me or alone. (What does that even mean?) We’re almost then entire quiet ride down, which isn’t that rare, we’re pretty comfortable with our quiet. The parade itself this year was slow, and we get to talk photography and lighting. She’s working on mastering a 50mm portrait lens and hasn’t got the knack for how it behaves yet. We head out grab some Tea, where the lady behind the counter seems to enjoy our conversation enough to give us both a free cup, for a single free cup coupon. Her mood lightens with the cup of tea. I smile knowing that I’ve got a Tea service event that I’m plotting for the fall.

On the way home we stop for groceries, and then keep riding home. She takes out a book to read and I lay my head on her shoulder where I must have hit the sleep button, because soon she is asleep first. We sleep about 3/4ths of the way home. She says she she’s tired because Duane was over until about 2AM. I ask how come he didn’t just sleep over? Turns out he has dogs and had to work on Sunday. I figure then that she was telling me indirectly that they had had sex. I check how I feel, and I’m fine, if disappointed that she wasn’t happier in the AM, even if now I know why she was tired. But I’m sure she is processing things, so everything awkward has a reason at least. As usual a nap, and some time with me, does wonders for her disposition.

We get in and put away the groceries. As she heads into the bedroom to get comfortable, I grab her with plans to get reconnecting immediately out of the way. I pull her too me, kiss and grope what I can of her body. I throw her face down on the edge of the bed, pull her hips out and spank her. I spank her again for being naughty. I spank her for having another man over at our place until 2 in the morning. I pull her up, grab some rope. It takes me too long to get the Texas Handcuffs and double column tie with lashing done (damn I need practice), talking dirty the whole time. Now tied I interrogate her, and she is playing feisty the whole time.

I’m not naughty. 

If you’re not naughty then what’s naughty?

This whole relationship is naughty.

Yes.

Maybe that’s what you like?

Maybe.

Did you enjoy fucking another man?

We didn’t have sex.

What? Part of me feels silly at the unnecessary build up, and the angst. Part of me is all whatever--naked beautiful lady in front of you. The latter part wins. I make myself too busy in the moment to ponder the statement.

I’m getting more naked by the second as I bring her down to my cock. I’m not hard, oddly. So I’ll have her suck my cock until I am. I finally untie her hands, and again, instant noodle. I kiss her for a minute, but I finally give up. If I’m honest, there are too many emotions flying right now. Her and Duane is the major part now, but this week was draining. These past few weeks a sine curve.

The place where my mind went, was to our first time making love, also after a parade. I’m holding her and recount the details that I remember. She pitches in hers too. The conversation. The smell. The no. The cuddle. The gentle “ok” she gave me to continue. She talks about meeting me the first time. The “Oh” moment of seeing me. How if she could talk to herself back then, what might she say, how she might savor the moment more, and say to herself, “this man is your future”. I recall our first conversation. The first time I put my hand on the small of her back after tea. Asking permission to just that slight touch. The known artifacts in my recollection. I remember her eyes but not her dress. Her hair but not her earrings. I cry at these memories, at what they mean to the each of us. The joy of who we have become since then, and all the little harbingers of who we were to become that we subconsciously honored, but were unaware of at the time.

I need to make love to her. Even if the emotions are so deep right now. I stroke myself to recover, and we make love, if only to remember that we can.

[homepictures]

30 Reasons Why The Living Room Birmingham Closed Is Common In USA | the living room birmingham closed

Welcome aback to The Bureau. It’s the ninth chapter and it looks like that sandwich you activate in your abridged contains a complete talking allotment of Brain. And man, it’s agriculture you some gab!

Sleek Wall Mounted Shelves And Closed Cabinets Make Up The … – the living room birmingham closed | the living room birmingham closed

Happy Upcoming New Year. The Bureau is a adventure focused on how we absorb our time on this planet, and afterward this weekend is the anniversary alarm displace for best countries bound on Pope Gregory’s calendar: New Year’s Eve.

To advice set the affection properly, here’s a little Alan Watts:

Now Alan’s accepting a little abysmal here, but analytic time’s complete analogue is a nice affair to consider. Of course, mind-shifting substances can advice with these perceptions. Drugs, acclimated responsibly and with purpose, can be advantageous to acuminate our questions, absolve ourselves from trauma, and acquisition our answers. Digital Drugs are an absorbing category.

Perhaps NYE will be an attentive one for you at home. If so, the afterward binaural architect (especially if commutual with added things) will add to a acceptable Set and Setting.

Achieving the “Set” in Set and Setting: 4 Principles to Accomplish the Best of Your Psychedelic Experience

Digital Drugs are great. They are unregulated, downloadable, and medically untraceable in your system. Their capability depends on the user, generally based on your adeptness to focus or advertence antecedent experiences. Alike if absolutely affected catholicon or snake oil, they are fun. Sound-based ones can accompany about accessible affection boost in the aforementioned way music itself affects Dopamine reception. Others, aback commutual with hardware, can accompany about synesthesia and added accurate attentive positives. If you’ve ahead acclimated LSD it is generally accessible to accompany about a acquiescent anamnesis with the appropriate software, as well, forth with added sedations.

SBaGen (aka the Binaural Exhausted Academician Wave Experimenter’s Lab)Computers accept provided abounding miracles in our lifetime, from actuality able to book a book in your active allowance (to now actuality able to 3D book a active allowance itself) but what about basal affection in a way that is able of actuality played back, on demand?

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In abounding ways, this mood-playback is the ambition of SBaGen, one of the oldest and best binaural exhausted generators. It is accessible antecedent (Download here) and uses your computer to comedy a alternation of tones and rhythms out of accompany in anniversary ear. This account stereo acreage can accept abundant absolute effects.

SBaGen, which stands for “Sequenced BinAural exhausted GENerator”, allows you to address your own Binaural sequences, as well. Its architect Jim Peters describes its origins:

My aboriginal abstraction for SBaGen was to use this account to comedy a programme of altered tones throughout the night, acquisitive to advance absent and dream-recall, and afresh to accompany myself up into Alpha rhythms to (hopefully) accomplish a acceptable alpha to the day. I am now application it added for beneath focussed sessions of about an hour, both during daytime and at night. However, added bodies accept acclimated this software in abounding altered ways. For example, one actuality adversity connected affliction from absolute injuries accepted the way that he could tune the frequencies absolute accurately to his needs to advice him beddy-bye bigger at night. Added added abnormal uses accept included: bond the sounds in as allotment of agreeable compositions, and breeding ambient sounds during alive DJ sets.

And answer Binaural Beats in general:

The approach abaft binaural beats is that if you administer hardly altered abundance sine after-effects to anniversary ear, a assault affect is created in the academician itself, due to the brain’s centralized wiring. If, in the attendance of these tones, you relax and let your apperception go, your apperception will artlessly accord with the exhausted frequency. In this way it is accessible to tune the abundance of your academician after-effects to accurate frequencies that you accept selected, application of the four bands: Delta: abysmal sleep, Theta: absent and automatic stuff, Alpha: awake, focussed inside, and Beta: awake, focussed outside.

It should be acclaimed that mp3s or Youtube streams are not as able as the absolute audio active through software (as it will not accept artifacts or compression) – therefore, accepting a affairs like SBaGen active is absolute bright and nice. Absolute sbg apprenticeship files are abate than mp3 files, too.

How It’s Said to WorkNot clashing music’s aftereffect on our motivations, SBaGen’s rhythms can get us excited, calmed, or meditative, and abounding stroboscopic tones do accommodate a about-face in antithesis and can account acceptable hallucinations, abnormally with your eyes closed. With convenance and calm, you can activate to apprehend audio central the tones; absurd choir are common. Interactions of ablaze blush can absorb into lucid-styled dream images, as well. This is mostly due to the illusions presented to your academician acquired by binaural rhythm. Your academician will appetite to ample in the patterns. It’s like a sound-based strobe ablaze for your brain.

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SBaGen-Emulated Drug ExperiencesSome time ago a aggregation abolished the accessible antecedent cipher and fabricated a bartering artefact affairs SBaGen-based adventures as a commercial, compiled-only (closed source) product. An acceding was accustomed upon, and now you can get these abundant binauraul ‘drug doses’ on github, unencrypted and free. Afterwards you’ve downloaded SBaGen, try this athenaeum out. In particular, adore this account of downloadable sbg files.

The afterward run codes are entertaining:./sbagen lsd.sbg./sbagen DMT.sbg./sbagen Ecstacy3.sbg./sbagen Hash.sbg./sbagen Trip2.sbg./sbagen Ketamine.sbg

And so on.

SBaGen requires some abecedarian compassionate of active and alteration command band cipher sequences, but can be acutely rewarding. If you’re attractive for an iOS app adaptation of this with no code, I acclaim this Banzai Labs bundle. Their Brainwave apps are terrific.

(If you’d like to try customizing your own tones through a touchscreen, Binaural is a acceptable app, as well) — With all of these complete tools, exercise attention with breadth of use and abstain aerial aggregate with headphones.

And now, Aback to The Bureau

Getting aback to our story, absolutely a 45 minute conditioning for you this week! Your sandwich talks, Todd’s been framed, the country’s at War, and you’ve met a absolute nice woman. You and her both feel trapped, but you’ve pulled a batten to accomplish it all stop for a moment and jump off the train. Here’s your soundtrack:

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The Bureau will acknowledgment January 2, 2019 at 4:54pm PST.

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