#considering theyre doing the same fucked up things to me (lovingly)

[worstdream]

antis be like "your f.os would hate you for being proship ..!!" like babygirl my f.os are grown men dating a little boy (me)

[hearts444karma]

hihiii!! if your request are open, could i request a nsfw (or fluffy) oneshot with shu x reader x sonny? theyre both my oshis and so when i heard of the collab i almost explodeddd (ﾉ´∀｀*)

#INFINITY... ft. shu yamino + sonny brisko

( warnings ) : fem!reader. explicit content + blowjob + facefucking + nipple play + titfucking + manhandling. 18+ minors dni

💌 : OMFG YESSSSS TWIN!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!! i cannot tell you how many times i've played this song!! BABY I DONT EVER WANNA STOP 🫠😩😩 100 DEGREES, ME ON MY KNEES??? 👏LET 👏 THEM👏 TAKE 👏 A BITEEEE 👏 DHKFSVHUNIJCE WE EATTING GOOD || stuff some of my hc's in (bratty dom shu + softie sani <33) and put some of the lyrics in..

the two crawl closer. sonny meets you at your front, happily kissing your hands as he draws them around his neck. shu takes the open angle to fit his hard-on against your ass, hands filling in your hips with the same passion his lips appreciate your shoulders with. his mouth spirals into your hair, then your neck, searing your ass backward and into his pelvis. you’re kissed on the lips by sonny’s god-crafted pecks, dipping in and out to brush his lips against yours. they can both kiss well. you know all of your fantasies are going to come true by how they're manhandling you.

so you moan. you let it all out, letting them know how much you wanted it, mewling, whining, and groaning. and you want it like you’ve never wanted anything more in your life. you want sonny’s cum to paint your chest, and you want shu inches inside of you. you want to be made love to, fucked and used. judging by how you’re kissed, that's what they want too.

sonny tongues your teeth. he gets braver as you go, groaning into your mouth, muttering things between kisses. you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and drag him in for more. he’s enjoying himself so much that he’s humming, which makes you want to get on your knees and hum around his dick like that. adorable.

meanwhile, shu’s getting tired of being ignored. his kisses are joined by harsh bites, and his hands smooth up from your hips to your chest in circles, squeezing your breasts in each hand. the feel of the fabric isn’t enough for him, though, because he quickly forces his hands up your bra and over your chest. sonny’s wide palms join his, squeezing and massaging your tits.

“beautiful,” he murmured, “you’re so beautiful.”

you give him a longer, sweeter kiss for the comment, which is the last straw for shu. sonny is nuzzling your cheek with his nose one second, and shu is shoving his tongue into your mouth the next. you moan, but he only likes it more.

from behind, sonny hugs you against him, kissing your neck and cupping your chest. your nipples are rolled lovingly through his fingers. shu, on the other hand, leaves his love in kissing. your ass is grabbed viciously by his nails, raking handfuls of your tender flesh. the sounds of kissing, spit popping and moaning fill your ears.

but this isn’t only for you. soon, you find a way to pry yourself out of sonny’s hug and shu’s aggressive ass-grabbing to slip onto your knees.

shu chuckles, “you on your knees.. are you ready for me?” his voice makes your pussy throb.

sonny shuffled forward a bit and tried not to look too shy. “us.” he corrected.

surprisingly, they're too shy to make the next move. considering how fun it is one-on-one, you have no issue doing it for them. but this is two-on-one, so there’s two faces to watch as you palm them through their pants, pull them in, then unwrap them. sonny has his eyes closed in anticipation, his lashes fixed against his cheeks. shu’s sharp violet eyes targeted you. his gaze is the heaviest, so you treat him for it.

their cocks are huge. bigger than you recall. sonny’s is ridiculously proportioned, long, thick, and smooth. he literally hangs when you pull him free. shu's is defined, veiny, and handsome-looking. you don’t need to collect any spit, since the drool pooling in your mouth at the sight is enough. working sonny in one hand, you start with shu’s cock. sliding himself into your mouth by the hips, studying your handiwork with malicious delight. you’re all moaning too much to speak, except for shu’s low grunt of, “you wanna taste the flavor? then take it all.”

you do. shu’s cock immediately jolts in to press into the back of your throat. you let him through, gulping, gucking, and sucking with every new inch. a chill races up your body at the deadly edge in his eyes.

you hit his base with ease. his cock settles perfectly in the sleeve of your throat. every throb of meat fills your entire skull, bulging under the skin of your neck. you suck spit back through your teeth and pump your head along the last inch of cock.

however, you're too slow for him. shu gives sonny a smug look, grabs your hair in both hands, and then begins to pound into your face like a madman. you love it. the heat in your stomach when he uses you as he pleases is the sluttiest feeling ever. he goes until your eyes well with tears, stuffing you to the brim, and then releases you to groan, “good girl.”

your spit hangs from his dick in strings and bubbles. you’d lick them up if there wasn’t a aching, desperate commander to care for.

“don’t strain yourself,” sonny whispers. it had taken four times as long to get sonny to cum from a blowjob the first time you’d done it, so by now, you’ve learned. the spit from shu’s dick follows you to sonny’s, which you waste no time popping into your mouth.

he likes light kisses and lots of tongue. the veins in his cock flutter when traced. his head is almost too big to hold in your mouth, but it's worth it to see the whimper of his lips. sonny mewls for more. you suckle his head faster, rolling your wet tongue along its sweet surface. with a few more kisses and a lot more long drags of your tongue, he’s panting as hard as shu is.

“don’t worry,” you grin. “i’m just getting started.”

you can barely fit their tips in your mouth one at a time, but you try both anyway. shu smears your spit back onto your cheek with his dick, which slips easily through the slick saliva dripping down your chin. their fat, delicious cocks squeeze into either side of your lip. sonny has to grab the headboard to keep from breaking something.

“i don't ever wanna stop,” sonny gasps.

you hum in agreement since your mouth is too full for you to speak properly. while you’re gagging on one of shu’s balls, sonny leans down and fixes your bra… then slides his dick through.

the hot, sticky flesh sizzles between your breasts. you try not to cum when you realize what he’s trying to do. squeezing your tits around him, you shudder in pleasure as sonny begins to thrust his spit-soaked manhood through the shape of your chest. the fact that it’s sonny making such a bold move only makes it more panty-soaking.

taking advantage of the spare hole, shu guides your head to the side and onto his waiting cock. You’re used from two angles then, once as sonny’s pair of tits and again as shu’s slutty cock-sheath.

“she loves it,” shu grins, “once you get my load, you’re gonna savor it, aren’t you?”

you nodded as best you could on shu’s girth. sonny’s thrusts push you back with every blow, bouncing your breasts each time. without warning, you’re struggling to gulp down shu’s load, which he only plunges deeper into your throat. you can practically feel him pumping into your stomach. it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever felt until sonny cums a second later, pouring a whole quart of seed across your neck and chest.

you collapsed backward, spent. slouched there, covered and filled with cum, you felt like a cream donut.

the two men stood over you, admiring their handiwork as you lay there breathless and sticky. shu chuckled, running a hand through your hair as he praised your performance. sonny leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before helping you sit up. you couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment wash over you as you basked in the afterglow of their pleasure. <3

[illusionlockarchive]

romeos huge rant on comedy, horror, and how they interlap

ok, so. full disclosure, what got me to make this post was this joke post right here.

so the initial premise is funny, haha okay. yeah. oh youre a kid and your punishment at school is that you have to stay at a room full of wasps. its funny because its absurd. it couldnt happen irl. youd think it wouldnt happen irl. youd hope so.

the thing about comedy and horror though? is that they actually operate on very similar concepts.

and that is, the absurd. the uncanny valley. what youre expecting the least. what youre not seeing and not registering. jumpscares are effective if at least to get you to jump, even if they are cheap. meanwhile, jokes where they completely twist your expectations to get you to laugh do the same thing.

it may be hard for you to believe me, but in the end, the bad ending of tattletail is the other side of the same coin as a joke that goes��“i swallowed a tablet with some water. everyone on the apple store was terrified of me.”

i have not read the wasp story, but i can guaranteee you, i CAN imagine it being scary, if the right tones are used and suspense is built up nicely. with the right twists and turns, knowing when to keep things quiet and when to blow things out of proportion.

OR it can end up being unintentionally hilarious, if the characters in it are way too cliche to be real and feel more like caricatures of teachers and students, if things are rushed and details lose their meaning and value, if we are just to focus on being an audience watching a kid get chased around by a swarm of wasps, instead of putting ourselves in their place.

im neglecting to mention something though. horror is not the TRUE other side of the coin to comedy. no, thats tragedy. and im sure many more people have heard of that. the two masks used in theater, one happy, the other sad.

and now we come to two very interesting modifiers. im sure youve heard of the term ‘horror comedy’ to refer to a subgenre of horror that does have jokes and silly things still happening, and may not take itself all that seriously. but why is it a specified subgenre? because MOST horror is tragedy.

this is why, despite liking many horror games or even stories, in the end i still dont consider myself someone who actually likes horror as a general genre. most horror focuses on the seriousness of the faults of humans, on our fragility, on all we can lose or are even bound to lose, on the fear that what we feel so confident about having close to us can be snatched away in a second, that our sense of reality can crumble. most horror? doesnt end well.

comedies in general tend to focus on the absurdity of life, on how many silly, strange, or even uncanny situations can happen that can challenge us, but not in a harsh way, but in a way that, despite so many bad things happening, we still get to point and laugh it off and be okay at the end of the day.

literally, all it takes for a tragedy to become a comedy, and vice versa, is a tonal shift. when i told of my idea to create this post to my boyfriend, he backed me up, and told me “the difference between horror and comedy is in the soundtrack and silly sound effects”. hes right.

of course, there are things that you should have the decency to not laugh at, still. to keep your mouth shut and know when to reject. but good comedy knows how to stray away from that, and good tragedy knows how to handle it respectfully without making it torture porn.

so, as horror hinges on tragedy, on the fear that we all know we must face in our lives, because a scream is as natural as laughter, so horror comedies are born as an interesting paradox.

a year or so ago, i got the opportunity to watch the banana splits syfy movie. i was a huge fan of the banana splits as a kid, and would often watch their reruns. those silly furries meant a lot to me. but im not stupid, i know thats a horror movie, i went in kinda knowing what to expect.

it was a gore fest, and for about two or three nights i had trouble getting to sleep. i wasnt actually scared of my childhood friends in animal costumes, as i knew how absurd and irrational my fear was, but just the images of the massacre being fresh in my mind were enough to send me into a panic if i lingered for too long, which can happen, you know, when youre about to sleep.

(TW FOR DESCRIPTION OF A MANS DEATH AND GORE, IF YOURE SQUEAMISH JUMP TO NEXT PARAGRAPH)

i think a scene that perfectly blurs the lines between comedy and tragedy, as well as just plain horror in it, is the scene where a man gets killed by being put in a magicians box and sliced in half as a ‘magic trick’ by fleegle, the dog. as he pleads for his life, and his soon to be wife watches in horror and pleads for the robot dog to stop (yeah theyre robots in this, weird), fleegle continues to slice him in half and blood spurts out, until he is dead, and fleegle just happily and proudly showcases what he has done, as if he just did a real magic trick.

(END TW FOR DEATH AND GORE DESCRIPTION)

watching that was horrifying, of course it was. but at the same time, it was what i wanted and expected when i thought about “banana splits horror movie”. fleegle just did something completely absurd and entirely uncalled for. and what doubles the uncaniness of it is that it was supposed to be something harmless, a magic trick. think about this if it was in an adult swim cartoon. the same thing could still happen, but be treated as just a weird, gross joke. fleegle could even swear, say ‘heres your fucking magic trick damnit! oh you dont like it, well i quit!’ n then throw his hat on the ground and step on it.

they are essentially the same scene, but the cartoon version of it is presented in a way that shows full on just how absurd and unexpected it is, without any seriousness to it, probably without any moody music to accompany it. meanwhile the movie one focuses on the fear, grief, and horror of putting us in the shoes of a woman who just watched the man she loved be killed, with the shots being extra impactful.

in the end, the banana splits syfy movie is a horror comedy though, because most of the movie is spent finding the most creative, absurd, borderline funny ways for people to be killed off. as you watch it along, you dont know whether to laugh at the weirdness and absurdity of the events or to genuinely feel grief and fear over the bodies piling up.

i could also just go over a million other examples available to me right now. in fact, as of the time im writing this, i have the latest vinesauce corruption stream pulled on youtube. during corruptions, the most bizarre and absurd things happen, and often times, things get scary. we see the video game characters we love be deformed and twisted in ways that you can only imagine hurt, but they still act as if thats normal! so you cant help but laugh.

earlier today, i watched a gameplay video of bonbon. its a short horror game, with a very... different antagonist. i wont spoil much, because, i dont want to deter people from buying it. but i will say, there is a reveal at the end, which slaps you in the face with the realization that you have been played for a fool all along, and the developers would probably laughing at you if they saw you after youve beat the game. its a joke, and the fear that they cultivated so lovingly, is the punchline. your fear becomes a punchline. to me thats one of the highest forms of blurring horror and comedy, and one i prefer to some more gory and harsh attempts.

and i mean, i have to mention fnaf here, dont i? its a great example too, particularly because, if you look at the games by themselves, they generally take themselves pretty seriously as horror stories, minus a few odd cases or references. but they just have enough wiggle room that, if you look at them from afar, as an audience, you can take these characters youre supposed to be afraid of, and have fun with them, because it is pretty damn absurd, and even funny at the end of the day, that youre expected to be afraid of essentially big, robotic childrens toys. and thats when many fun, fan renditions that focus on lighthearted situations pop up. vanny herself is pretty funny even! the idea of a person who dresses up in a full fursuit to do crimes is pretty hilarious.

all in all, i think i just really appreciate how horror and comedy can converse with each other and how that says something about how we, as humans, are easily made impressed, made to be surprised and shocked, to jump or to laugh. and we are always looking for that thrill, it just depends on if youre looking for laughs or screams.

so yeah, maybe ‘wasp room’ can be a pretty good story. is it a horror story or a comedy? we wont know until we read it. (also if you made it to the end reading this holy shit i love you , i fully recognize i talked way too much)

[macphairlane]

connecting with profs or nething at this point is not unlike the velvets live at kansas city, its a melodic and more or less productive affair considering lou reed the lead singer had just had electro shock …with friends of old and icons of great value to share ideas with; the record litterally comes fourth as a paranormal entity, in human forms. …but simply; its vinyl.

Shiney shiney, shiney rolls of tape, girls only I could help escape. blue eyes i could never see them take. rollin 365 up the staires, a crackhouse dive dweeb squaires, why whine, rye, a wife in mind. La monde avoir its roots entwined, 1st word; thyme in ice in time greedy pigs and shocks a freak, day in day out don’t miss a beat i love you still white light white heat ill miss your mother’s little feat; you glowies; children of the wheat. telepathy jealousy bahing sheep

one last and first thing to comprehend; to thrust forth and defend, to lash out introspectively, war on our brains unjust effectively we cant depend for they are liars with no morals only wires.

those we are forced to trust however wrong and evil they are to sever. Know that in time the universe will punish their evil doing, karma will get you through the abuse. Let logic steer you away from the danger they have on display the sick drs who will pay fake degrees and up and ha all together to wreck the day.

god bless the youth with their troubled times against them and theyre healthy minds 365 its live now draw a line between the fake malpractice swine and your mind and tricks entwined freed by the knowledge that you’re fine. now 705 thisle and thyme this matters more, to our kind they laugh and make you compromise your life to better fit their knife there gay and you are a good wife to me. someday they’ll go back to pay, and fuck you up a different way,

For that I think ill stay and wait here for alternate ways around the castle i call home and site beside your empty throne.

“love”  and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophise with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the moment my phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche,  at this moment I can prove using circumstancial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indesisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and psysical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living thngs on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not neccesarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings cresendoes babies,, are when the energy isnt circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, an the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what  he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, emparts her secret harboured denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, wheather the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivitol form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense,  my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misenterperted until the last few seconds before the line went dead (FUCK), were interperated and acknowledged and the whole venus in furs philosophy of the one party giving the other what it wants so bad, but has been denied, and doing it with love, or what they BOTH KNOW is the kind of love that’s needed and given over finally with effortless,  voluntary participation from the dominant, resuling in satisfaction in bohe parties (in my case the girl and I were more harmonized cause it was love based. Sex based, and send in the sacred medium of sound, and the talisman, the artifact, the memory the high velocity evidence that the message was of high fidelity, was that she didn’t use descriptive words (language) I was unfortunately (my medium at the time) it was her specific instrumental natural sirens alerting me to the intentions that truly lied behind her actions towards me  even if it was for that day only, this medium I collected from the field is highly obvious and irreplaceable piece of art that is regarded by the mind of the homosapien on a natural level as evidence that it not just social interacton, its a higher form of interaction, sexual yes, the highest form, occurs only when the truly loving is truly loved, on a sexual level, which indicates physical involvement,  and it did, only on one side, the side of the desired, the starvd had revieved the intention, and it was love, something metaphysical that can only be cofimed as occurring for ne length of time is undeniable corporeal action, even if its just her, givin er to you reading literature over the phone, the gift of reassurance that you are loved in this memorable case was not through words, but audible expressions from the depths of physical and mental activity from her diaphragm through her vocal chords and into my eardrum, was evidence enough that our seemingly healthy and thriving friendship was being held in limbo while I struggled with life and suffered over the denial of the true real deal love you were harbouring and saving in yourself for the future, didn’t dim and go out like a candle that burned up all the wax. Without official acknowledgement celebration and because I was still fucked up, without the long lasting  relationship that we wished wold follow and planned for, the sound of her primal sirens, sent mono ideo-dnamically from her entire physical being emitting frequencies that resonate with the earth around her and correspond with the stimuli, me, the correspondence being the brief experience of hearing the broadcast of it, acknowledging the fact that no matter how flawed or un aware I was prior to precieving what was transpiring an how classicly themed to fit my experience it was, that the fucking phone died before I heard the end of it, I clued in to what was going on, (id been informed of this “drone”she makes by her ex boyfriend (the other guy) right before he drove his helpful and convenient car out of her life)  Even if it was “her being noisy” it was fundamental sensual body chemistry, stimulated physically by the best means she knew how mentally by the imperative consciousness of the presence of the instinctualy, reproductivly essential of (in her case) a genuine male emitting stimuli, in both of our cases the stimuli was audio. The rare and most modern evolutionary trait is the simultaneous(I say this empathetically because were using language the figure this out not a live experiment going on right now or some shit) Emotional involvemint by both parties “while during coitus” bein, to into words, (I know that you’ve been loveing me so im gunna love you back) tho words are sweet but it doesn’t compare to the same message sent in the biologically, exceptional quality thats essential to the balance of the bodies involved and there connection to one another, the planet and the unverse, sound and where it comes from and the intention or involuntary reason for its presence and amplitude, dissonant or harmonious, perhaps my reading, my being on the line was the drone, and the harmony was her dissonant siren song. Its our new found puprose as humans to when ready reproduce.  Love is highly evolved, and requires corporeal and linguistic and energetic action on both parties to be confirmed as true love. It works like a battery(the casing of the battery is the relationship here), one end needs what the other end has access to; the positive end has its own energy attached to it(the juice in the battery, posetve energy),(in this case this is our one, the girl)attractive body(+end)and a mind (the positive ends underside that’s harboring all the energy in the friendship/relationship (battery casing)the negative port on the other end of the battery on its outside (my mind in this case)is permanently attached through the casing of the battery to the mind of the desired, this girls memories thoughts etc. (the underside of the positive end) and not her body. Why because the casing is plastic,( the friendship) isnt enough to join the two to create a circuit, but the love(the battery juice made up of strange elemets) attracted by her negative mind(the underside of the positive end) and makes her body(the tip) fertile and ready to create electricity(communication) only the casing of battery acid(loving friendship)charged by my positive actions(the acid is positively charged by the underside of my mind(the negative ends underside) which represents my body, which behaves like the warm intentions of my actions, which positively go nowhere unless her mind (negative underside of the top of the battery)gets inspired by the love in the friendship (which is positively charged yearning, my positive actions played lovingly into her open mind(negative underside of the top) inspiring her to do something with her body(top of the battery positive) in response to my positive charge on her mind and all the love it can unleash,  for the sake of warm intentions she turns on a cell phone,, her phone(or wire casing) the copper thread in the wire(the signal) the positive charge in the wire, (her calling me) and her hooking up the wire touching it to the negative end of the battery(her bodies actions and warm intentions inspired by a recognisable charge I embody that she identifies with(my body and life being negatively charged with aa positive mind and her beautiful face and attractive personality.)  my phone rings and I see its her, the one, I immediately am inspired that its her charge the one im missing positively lovely, what is she up to? and i pick it up,

A simple circuit at this point, is her using a tool or wire to send all her positive energy through to her body by using her minds attraction to positive energy, by simply attaching the wire it sends the positive energy not just through her mind and body but back down on her body, when the extension (the wire) is put on my mind(the negative end of the battery in this case, my mind),deliberately by her, sending the energized current of the love in our friendship (juice in the battery) into my mind(the end of the battery with a bump) by way of the wire (cell phone signals connecting our phones and her voice and energy being the current) all the positive energy meets the negative charge of my mind and then that foreign female tone (positive electrical current) the positive energy stemming from the juice, the love, that’s made up of elements like lithium(in the case of the battery and in my case as well) this element and other alloys, the whole chemistry of the battery acid, holds the charge positive because energy flows, and love or acid can be charged by the bi polarity of conducters meaning they are opposing one anothers charge on the outside leaving potential for power over nature,  while on the inside, inside the battery the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, litteraly loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symetricaly and quite similarly to your perfect face and body  only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me,  from the beach into the city,  while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella,  drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I  stop, wait my energys charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and  the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged ablilitys that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit cant explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery,  the almost dead battery, poetic licence and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, Ive always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know theres more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours,  in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, theyd knock me out, blow to the head, ill miss away you time instead,  that lilliad inside your mind

DRONe3

.<0_O> — — µ — <_<)))) DRONe³ And other Poems and writings by James McFarlane Telepath/Necromancer James McFarlane·Friday, May 18, 2018 . Telepath may 2018 Pencil sharp, smoke a dart early morning engines start Crescent moon blue grass tunes frost on the window and my spoon. Dopamine and serotonin, pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life, on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. Train passing dread grasses, Sage burning sky lasting, electric currents flowing now, necromancer up and down, Dopamine and serotonin pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. -Seumas Necromancer May 2018 Floating wearily but in some comfort overhead. Making sheets move on my bed. Conversations in and out, speaking without our mouths. Blue fires light up your darkness please don’t ever find me as heartless I love you always one two three here’s the bass now jam with me Exhale eternally into the mic, angel choirs out on strike. Necromancer up and down, rein / radius across town, soon I will return with thee to this town/life Ville/vie. –Seumas (New Revisions) James McFarlane +Seamus to thee, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code DRONe -Seumas (James) Monday, February 22, 2016 OK thisone’s right off the wall: this is a strangely written and personal poem It’scalled “Siren heart Drone” (meant for a mature audience) A’ hem…. I’m nervous, I don’t freestyle often I wish there was a way to put this near the bottom of my timeline, it’ll be my latest and greatest lyric though, + POSETIVE INDUCTION — The positive attraction to your conductive psyche, is a form in itself existing in me, subjective almost ironically, the circuitry, being both electricity and imaginary cranked up high by your fun chemistry by way of the cerebral. (Which is flattering me) The circuitry with chemistry minus proximity, (causing a reaction deliberately) the electrical frequencies that you received from me were; artsy descriptions in accents I read. Other elements of me manifesting masculinity through my dorky frequency, gave off feedback that, officially; for me heralded the dawn of freed energy. So… metaphysical seed, dropped and sewn that day, (I guess what I am trying to say is): My girl my girl, don’t lie to me, oceans away your eyes can see, my bending sending light like this, in response to; the drone from your white laced lips. For the of lack of your treble and charge of your base, my “methadone”, White Light/White Heat, can take its place, anti-acidic mantra chi, surrounding me, a black dot in space. Divided by the curve encased, the metaphysical takes place. The fact that we’re in touch today, makes sirens blare and drones play, I’ll send this over right away, and then appropriately play, ‘beautiful face’ a newer way, I could elaborate for 3 straight days. Now what follows is what’s next on the fret board of your hex. It’s between, us; a fish out of net. So this will be all they get. ok here goes, ya, this is for the ladies in town I know that sounds weak but I blame the moons energy for you cute young women never being around when I finally spit the rhyme on solid ground, neway this is about you, you and the town where I choose, and choose to settle down instead of just stop swimming and drown, no more worries, no frowns, I’m gunna work it on out, cause I’m bound for the tides, not the sound, yea, ok, you know what I mean, yea k here I go, you ready? You steady? I stole the crown from the underground, I thought it would look nice with your gown, I’m upward bound so, are you down with my verbs and nouns? I don’t freestyle rap but this might as well be,flowin literally right now cause i come down hard with a sound that this new town including your highness have minds to breakdown, so get down breakdown, my chic mystique-psychologique will make you turn around and blush while your current boyfriends drunk on the ground cause he substitutes love with down, he doesn’t have an ear, genetically, to hear your siren sound for which I was born to kinetically harmonize, desensitize and heal your weary eyes. This is the treatment we need now ill even show you how, like a bow that goes up and down, helping us resonate these bloody strings, while the clipper ship sinks…… Sinks with the low tide.c’mon lets head home. The moons making my fire rise. That means soon it will be high tide, the ocean spray it stings my eyes, so let’s go inside, its morning time, look at color in the sky the sun is just about to rise. MY clipper ship’s on seas of rye. Empty bottles of scotch catch her in the eye. I’m not afraid of all those guys, they’re lucky they even have a sty. I’ve seen farms that would make you cry. These pale blue eyes are all but mine. And yours are like that brand of dye, that in our last summer together, we ALL tried, permanent like the purple in my mind’s eye or the in the dimly lit sky the night I officially died, all from a med, instead of one I took 10, benzodiazepines, all I wanted to do was compound the prescribed effect at the right dose they make a nervous wreck feel and appear normal so I took them, now I’m in debt, but only tried this cause u have me in check, ready to knock the crown off my head, make it your golden cauldron instead. You know I’m good with shocking steel and know how to forge blend anneal so this golden crown is probably real, and I assure u from the other room that it’s safe to use took a meal. Only cause it’s my deal I leave out the part about removing toxic alloys by melting steel, adding chemicals from the field and as the method never revealed used those same chemicals, that we all feel, all the time in our head to make tiny slow moving particles to turn make gold out of lead. So neways with confidence I said GO AHEAD! But I couldn’t lie to her, so I yelled from the other room, “u should know, that thing is gold but it use to be lead. She laughed, hesitated, placed the pewter cauldron on the stove instead and put the golden crown on her head. She finally walked down the hall and into her room where I was using dust pan and broom, she didn’t say nething, just got up on her bed which was shrouded with purple threads forgetting her glasses, still she picked up my book and read, I said here ill read aloud for you instead, within a few minutes of reading she started to turn red, the stove was on low so she got herself fed THAN served us both breakfast in bed. SUDDENLY I awake and see that we are parked at the end of a pier in some town in Quebec, I yell out stupidly from my stuper, WERE ON A PIER! She had good laugh about that occurrence on several occasions. but ya I took too many pills and was all sleepy on our road trip, all in all, yet again, I fed my head then lost all my cred, it being an accident, it made me sleep like the dead, that’s when I lost you, or you lost me, literally you looked everywhere and couldn’t find me, conscious or not, id soon figure id been stung by the bee, the most painful thing however, and my only memory was later that night when you were beside me, or was it he that got there before me, ok now I must stop and back up, the cheap words pouring from me, telling the details of this pathetic story it’s pissing me off, like losing the love of your life to a drug, and then officially to drugs plural, like 5 years of fucking up pretty much following this one night, the moment you realized you had lost the one girl, the one you compare every girlfriend you get ultimately fucking that up too, the one. its caused ache in whets left of my drug affected love starved blackened heart and caused my excellent poem to go right off the rails, so I’ll get on topic and ill even do it in rhyme, what inspires me to try to try, it’s the ache in my heart that is its key function now when I think of this girl and am reminded of the moment I lost her. ok here goes, regardless, we were in bed together, and from your sleepy head where your soul lies and you can never die, I heard your memories cry, and as I realized all the days I tried so hard to try but wouldn’t, couldn’t try and now I can’t cry is because I was always too shy in your unfulfilled eyes despite being my inspiration for the last 4 or 5 years of drugs and art with your recent if u can even call it that separation the focus intensifies about u and other girls like the sweet PortugueseIrish girl from the only psych ward I recommend at hotel diu in Kingston where I was actually treated properly (maybe cause it’s a catholic hospital, maybe cause I was so fucked up I appeared catatonic for days till this fox brought me down and romanced me for a month) she’s your competition….who contributed to my psychological cardiomyopathy however, a number of “the ones” but evenbefore that I was fucked up, I was the youngest psychiatric patient in Ontario or something, I learned how to smoke inside a smoking room in the shithole Scarborough grace when I was fifteen, I think I checked myself in hen I was twelve just to get away, that may have been what that asshole head of psychiatry was talking about. I also hit the highest highs, and the most demonic abysses of suicidal advanced psychotic depression, and took more abuse for it from nurses drs and the police, not to mention my family, but I still unconditionally love and am loved by my parents and grandparents, Jesus, I sacrificed my life and goals to save my families souls literally offed myself when I was 16 years old to end the devils elaborate foothold on me the people around the household appliances and machines, the behavior of living things the weather and the temperature of the room depending on my tortured state the only common theme is that others hurt and share it with me and my empathy kind of bounces back like an echo, I express and receive the grief while later, I only know this because when I fall, which I don’t do nemore thanks to medical science, its all about them.. but now this, she cried in her sleep and the only difference about these tears the ones that dried before her, is that the tears were for the two of us,not for being hurt but for me getting hurt and that hurt her, and it came out of her in a subconscious later state, kind of like me, this happened something like five years ago and it never gets old, ok , so here’s how THIS sad story goes; back to you, we were basically sleeping on the ground, I was tied up and bound, mothers little helper’s cheque bounced, I stupidly blame the devil in benzos but as of last Chinese new year I now denounce him, clonazepam is free from sin,(the cure), which I am resistant to so even though in the name of a better life I took 1/16th of an ounce I was still wide awake laying beside you, thinking only to myself about how I fucked up, it wasn’t even my own script at the time like u even need to know this it was a gift from the big Mc the tragically crip former editor in chief of legal manuscript, this bug makes the dj tick, and he made me, (sick) so (to this day I thank god for the count and amount per pill per day,,, throw your troubles away and pray that it was ok to stray from your holy bible, “psychology today”) So I was now bound for the pound, complete and total disgrace all around, from the moment u made that sound I knew our plans were going down that I would leave town, shoot smack and somehow return because YOU specifically gave the instruction to COME BACK! But things got whack I dropped out of school after taking philosophy which I passed, took drugs then relaxed let the nothing drone blare and move towards and away from the past managed to stay out of the psycho shack and somehow followed the chemical and psychological path out of the woods, fuck that was one long sidetrack, but it’s over, now, it took a year of wandering to end it but I did so…back before I initially left town your eye lids were down. I’d spent our whole friendship collectively letting you down by being ur favorite one in town and not responding in a way that could let us…. Fuck I was a clown,ever since I pulled a sigmen froid and used white to get off opiates it’s been renown but like the psychologist before me once declared, down (heroin) so satisfying in the right dose, has basically fulfilled their open ended prediction for the drugs future, in one shot like vaccine, the queen of all drugs, administered in the highest healthy dosage intravenously is the cure all found in Montreal, and then a deliberate clean cut from all non prescribed recreational narcotics, that is until the dreaded lady in white shows up on ur doorstep, I say let her in, and move away never to see her again, with the experience and satisfaction of the act of consuming heroin as your catalyst to change your life and only take clonazepam. So before all that we had a healthy friendship, it was doomed but I loved you so u kept me around and there was all sorts of ways we got down without ever fooling around except this time I discreetly describe further down when my phone ran out of batteries while you went to town , I thought I was a fuckin martyr because all id make u do is dance, that’s the gods truth so baaaack to me not being a creep, I geometrically see the opposing symmetrical verticy of our rhombus reveal its true ego as FUCKING TRAPAZOID when I hear your inner pain, I’m no hypnotist (yet) but u were zonked after a day of mosh pitting ultimately falling for the other guy, while I slept in the grass like an ASS. you let out a whimper in your sleep and two out of three of us knew, this chick is deep, from then on I took the title of weak, I had let my biological ancestors down with swords in their hands and in my hand your crown, and still I let you down, AND YOU STILL even tried several sexy and awkward times to make it happen and I let you down, u can tell a social disease when the same set of words are used multiple times to rhyme with other words that have that sound i.e. : I let you down. In that strange little town. It’s been well over a year and to end on a harmonious note after all this purple melancholy. I’m gunna say two words to you and they are not” “I do” It’sI’m sorry. I’m sorry lately for this poem, but mostly I’m sorry for not maturing into the man you thought I could be. I’m recovered from my early episodes now, took 16 years but I used the gear to properly hear and respond without fear, if only I did this within the time frame we had, Now were both sad. And I don’t wanna upset u, ur glowie or ur boyfriend or neone else, soo I’m gunna play a song, it’s called : one thing that keeps this black heart beating””(referring to my heart: that “upturned bass drum” The thing that keeps it beating is the dissonant and strangely beautiful siren song that echoes in my mind as the inspiration, “love” and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophies with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the momentmy phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche, at this moment I can prove using circumstantial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indecisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and physical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living things on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not necessarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings crescendos babies,, are when the energy isn’t circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, and the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, imparts her secret harbored denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, whether the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivotal form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense, my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misinterpreted until the last few seconds before the line went dead the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, literally loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symmetrically and quite similarly to your perfect face and body only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me, from the beach into the city, while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella, drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I stop, wait my energies charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged abilities that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit can’t explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery, the almost dead battery, poetic license and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, I’ve always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know threes more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours, in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, they knock me out, blow to the head, I’ll miss away you time instead, that lilliad inside your mind….it’s way too late you’re so unkind, but one important thing u need, to know I know u love to read, do not read too much to your seed, it makes a flower yer indeed, with pain killing power guaranteed, but this makes a subconscious need to find a source for output feed, destined to be completely freed ad finally have the urge to read, its therapy apparently, the experiment of reading aloud and they drift off on angels clouds, you think their gunna make you proud, well brace yourself, speakers are loud, they developed and were well endowed, language and its mystic power it not to be strewn on the flowers, this is my dependant variable, the words the use on me were terrible, a bird a seed knowledge unbearable, though every word is understandable, hypnotic methods subconscious dependable, lovely developmental psychology is the cause of my constant source of energy what I was born to do was reap, infinite knowledge in my sleep a steady drone of literature, I’m older now administer reality and life in place of shame rejection and disgrace, aside from my abilities that serve me independently, instinct survival evolution, speed all factors meant to help me breed, but would you read that to your seed, your surly growing potent weed, I’m not a normal human being I spend time speaking hearing seeing, proving while your disagreeing now the sheep are all fleeing, my purpose hear is slowly weaning I’m a negative source of positive energy, that means nothing drones glowies and friends that are enemies, all that I needs a path and an receiver, a sound to ride on, subwoofer and tweeters, it’s the music u shared with me that keeps me going The proof that our signal reached desired objectives, was clear to my ear which contained an elective, my minds using psychology to be less selective, behavioral science removes the block painlessly love, loss and malpractice grew my circuitry aimlessly, evolving survival instincts team with nature, my chemical background makes life like a phase, the instincts resulting are acute like a razor and amplified abilities through manipulating manipulative chemicals without wavers, resulting in behavior that can reach and amaze her… the extent of the damage is to be overlooked, by using knowledge and memory or reading a book design and time weren’t key features its transference of whines from student to teacher, let me out of detention you feminine creature ill read aloud it’s the right way to reach her, the demand and supply was shot at the sky and with lasers for eyes that reflect off her kind I was surprised to find that in no time I heard her wine, go out of her mind, and through her elective design I read junkie sublime and the fidelity was just fine for my desensitized mind. Literally proving her love up against my undying lazerlove therefore, proving that from that moment in time It was (now literally) one(the one) and another(me) falling “in love “officially identified by the subjective and objective forms that equal true love, for a time, which in rhyme and time I now feel it was divine, it’s began and ended in one harmonious line (in a Scottish accent no less) and buried in our minds getting weaker over time the signal is dying the whine and her trying has kept me flying farther away for lack of a sign that she was officially mine, but my nose it did grind on the stone learning life through the drone all on my own stealing crowns off of thrones, almost completely destroying my home, getting dipped in chrome, and then ground to the bone,, but that’s ok now because I how I know, I made her come through a phone, I’ve reaped what id sewn, now I am grown, with skills to hone no more wearing a cone, from the unknown to the known heralded by the morningdrone which is an inaudible tone interacting metaphysical rods and cones in my everlasting home among milestones made of greymatter behind bone in the form of the intangible moan that has royalties owned by the one xylophone a tone so foreign and feminine it may be that of a banshee or crone, the soil of my subconscious, is where I’ve been instructed and shown but my chance was blown there already something growin that knows the suns light is shown, now I’m alone, why did I buy that bus ticket when I could have flown. Another way of iterating this love story is an s follows introduction, obstruction instruction, induction, seduction production reduction destruction I’m trying to link two portions of this production, causing a reaction like a light turning on send notification from yin to yang (2 great friends of the opposite sex ultimately consummating their union in the way nature wanted it to be) but for us it was highly evolved in that even over the lo-fi filter of cell phones she was sending her love, whether she got off or not that id like ton know, but,, I got the drone of her during, (which if I’m not wrong is typically the main attraction for most women, their anatomy makes for a better “during” in her case conveniently, I’ll admit, without my flawed physical presence, I’m sure she didn’t just give up when my phone ran out of batteries, she was by the banks of her own lagoon, , the stimuli for me, the understanding an witnessing this correlative reaction, correlative because based on all the evidence, the great friendship which was WE were In Love,,,, that passes by my standard and I’m a philosophy grad, this Idea of me and this one girl being in love ISNT EVEN PRAGMATIC like most of my theories, the ONLY thing that get in the way of it being classified as nething between us other than, well I’m afraid to word it frankly because it makes y philosophy look dumb, the only factor threatening this TRUTH, this explainable objective form, is.. the time frame, the setting and the timing of the whole ordeal, my argument is that my reserved intense devotion that was pretty much spellbound, was appropriately (although delicately and let’s say modernly)relieved back to square one, literally and true even though it’s in the days ahead, metaphysic means dead.\\ I’m pretty lonely, so I make allot of art these days, like so; since she left me for dead and we both had left town, with thoughts of her crying asleep on the ground, my mind plays a drone, just to keep the pain down, it’s the girls very essence, oh to hear those pipes sound, if I was there this reel could have burned her house down, But our minds were both trying, Scottish lyrics I had, her bagpipes were sighing, and droning like mad, even though I was dying to get under her plaid, her fingers were flying and the lyrics were “rad the sound of her drones blared through the aero phones, I had broken a string and the bow had no rozen, but her body remembered what she had forgotten, string breaking caused her heat up and harden, this dissonant silence was her chance to depart from his flaws and his jigs and his odds and his rigs and ivy wrapped wand honey drippin upon this Venus in tartan who gushed forth the art of his masculine heart, the yin joins the yang and d string goes twang, The key that she played in was the string that I broke;I awoke in a doria mile off the coast. I swear by the sword of Ulysses and QueenMary’s crown you can’t quiet this siren when she fools around. Sending me to the moon and abyss on her sound It’s siren heart drone and that’s written in stone like I said, STELLAR, and you can TELLHER, most likely shell be a be a BETTER SPELLER, most likely ull say THE WORST THING EVER cause you’re a BULLSHIT SELLER, wave got mutual friends that FLOCK TOGETHER, social cannibals up shit creek FOREVER “sharp fanged teeth sheep” identified by Brethr in touch with friends of mine with FEATHERS, who govern karma AND THE WEATHER harmonizing OUR ENDEVOUR dissonance and TAKING PLEASURE in currents charged “+”, sea vessel PROPELLERS droning on for OH SWEET NEVER, nothing “like” inevitably BETTER the next “day, mon” frère, myself sharply dressed, a new pair of ‘GO GETTERS’ high, but fly, “the local YELLER” inscribes, as I dictate the true, (and prescribed), (in “”blood)-”LETER”! …BUY LETTER!”technique””’s psychology thesis of persuasion,-through love cure for; pain from shame stemming from taking the blame for the psychopaths that are perfectly sane who corporally, “embodying hells flames, wicked games to derange, the use of tools to cause pain, so the hands free to gain more control without shame ….and words that confuse and lead them in. vein cutting through lies and psychosomatic pain” making it rain your blood to put out the flames, an empty vessel that openly claims he righteously bears the right to OFFSET karma in his favorite time double negatives stuck on rewind with the fist or the tool of thing without mind, just current flowing into itself sustaining itself by shackling you with a voice that speaks truths that the vessel and devil greedily use to ultimately abduct you consume love your subconscious would refuse to give, to lose, so you wind kicking yourself while he rips on your soul defacing and displacing what’s left of you, what set you apart from a caved in shoe who’s uneven because the others got two, souls are unbreakable but if he breaks you, ill have the words the voice and the truth, the vessel in which to put soul into you, love and affection reflecting on you a new pair of shoes and so basically you feeling loved and in good mood no longer producing that parasite food, by walking and talking, souls in your shoes, while my bare feet support prescribed truth, a chemical network of mes and you ultimately held together with glue your love is the only way I can get through my psychological problems of which I have used to heat cook and serve us both food they drive me to supplementing love with miscues, attempts to draw a good picture of shoes, that drawn the attention of someone like you, or someone who offers a love I can’t refuse, because it me who also has many a bruise, the glue the chemical I trust and I use are prescribed and administered with bruit force and tools, leaving the chemically gifted unloved and unused and undone on the run with the songs you have sung, giving u satisfaction, and leaving u hung out to dry by the sick and the dumb, and the one, that u can give a gift to, is the only way we can say I love you and the fact that we are is what makes it true now I can scrape this shit right off your shoe, here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singing the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones too, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code,I’ll let the field talke care I m old, its time to end thiflodi broke the mouldand me with my everything about the shoe, its maker your sou out your soul leaving with bound by psychosocial with day moon SETTERS. home made psychopath GET ER, and lose her to a knitted SWEATER meant to the and if shit hits the fan in my house you become a fuckin CAVE DWELLER you officially for me heralded the dawn of freed energy so metaphysical seed dropped and sewn that day I guess what I a tying to say is seroquel can kill the day and lithium when charged can phase can kill your kidney and your craze over sirens who’ve been underground their perfect face and al around static in the air and sound of talismans and something foud induction tells you write this down what she conducts may flood the town, and this guythatts on the other line isn’t he a project of mine, sais nurse so cute and fine that flirt with my bipolar mind could his stimuli be cut, (if my nurse heard that shed bust my nut the think I’m guna get more worse nuclear winters parallel universe but bipolar ppls irony ill crack the joke an ice your nuclear explosion twice a day while I’m away leading weak dicks astray but giving your negative drones away the moans that I’m familiar with the point is I’m sick, was born with antennae metaphic that can even change channels like sappic girl on girl to girl on me altering duality and that what I get for free cable metaphysically so u better charge your battery, start the car pray she needs a guy with speed, instead of the duality of loving and love being received define love for me because lm low on batteries, finally the irony iron like steel I’m not even funny she gave me a drone that carried me home plate metal armor still that suckers dethroned all because of the ironic poem guaranteed to call my home circuitry and sacred tones, hooked up to my broke dying alone charge that she hears in my voice instinct are what’s the driving force to be my Venus in furs of course striking my eardrums while art of a new form could cure my heart, when deprivation and avant-garde combine to make things into art the the thing that makes drones stop and start my wordsandfingers take a form that independently grows horns, what an art to harmonize your frequencies with, smart, you dirty little butter tart you were supposed to cure my heart at least u got it throughtome you rising storm makes my anteenae start to channel lo-fi forms a and v imnow starting to clearly see I got to hear pure femininity express its love physically, while the ironic truth is easy to see, that my talisman masxulinity had no hand in physically and so my strengths like mediocrity, thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculine frequency that was enough to ride that came through the airwaves only a dined, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjectively means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite ur reaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely ur still a part of me, like the wasted energy of a missing battery that from within bears a charge, that was meant to be, the high voltage current, of hot energy. wat a grT TRIP THIS IS, ALTHOUGH ONG AND UNCOMFORTABLE AT LES I STILL HAVE ROCK AND ROLL AND BY DIVINE TIMING WE TOO A STROLL ADNTALKED A LITTLE THATS MY GOAL AND NOTHING DRONES AND HEAVY STONES WERE LEVITATED WITH THE MOAN OF SIRENSS BUT YOUR NOT A PHONE AND NO SUPRIZE CANT LEAVE ALONE OW I THRIV OFF DIAL TONED CAUSE IM DEPENDANT ON YOU STONE THE TALISMAN YOU CALL MY HHOME AND THAT TIE YOU CALLED ME ON THE PHON YOU WERE IN MY HEAD SAFE IN YOUR HOME BAD TIMING AND A HEAVY TONE BATTERIES DEAD: NOW WERE NOTHING DRONES…………………………………………………………….. thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculin frequency that was enough toride that came through the airwaves only a denied, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjective by means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite urreaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely Seroquel can ‘kill. The day’, and lithium (when charged) can phase, can kill your kidneys and your ‘“crazy” laser ray’s perspective.’ Meant for sirens, waves, underground stalactites, space, and drops of acid rain onto your base. Meant to cauterize with time and phase the straight; your sex, the Vikings take, and that edge they use to reap and waste. ((their secret way through; to slice through the glazed over passageway, that freezes waves of blood they made. Turned to crimson ice seen by my red hot rays, melt into salty ocean sprays) Then not so far away at night I kill the day and reap twilight, my heat turns from red to white like scars that weep acid rain despite my efforts, however insane, you do this over and over again) Relief; from emotional THEN/BY physical pain. In that order, we’re both deranged. here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singin the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’m tired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code, It’s meant for: a couple; of different: ppl 1 knø james ((pérsunµli); ‘(urThInKn èù¹d “Like¹¹ i+ Th0µGh))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ) — ¹o-² øس=FOUR!!!!!!!!²O_O³⁴!! (0_0)T0o?O_o)❤µ¼FOR¼ldd.”( þ+¹na!’(LOL!)?,X&Y” =ø(þ iN þÉd àvèç¹<>³µ)/(µø+þ²)ùþ³@ — ¹²³¹²³¹²³¹²³ James McFarlane•

Ideas About mental Illness — James McFarlane Here’s my theory on paranoia. (Usually considered a negative symptom of psychosis) It can help gather information or misinform those who experience it. Even in wellness it is always potentially present in all of us. It’s a survival instinct. It makes us more attentive. My unique experience and understanding is when paranoia and other symptoms are present, heightened and amplified alertness to important information perceived by the senses is collected and whatever data is missing the brain either fills it in with logical thought or logical hallucination in some cases. I will further iterate this several ways for you to better grasp it. For most people there is so much excess data you wind up believing a falsity. Simple logic should let you know best which is most accurate among the extra data collected by suspicion, inner thoughts and hallucination ultimately fitting like Lego into the fractured “factual” data perceived. I believe mostly it is our internal sense of logic that is used to make hallucinations like dreams that appear similar to our regular reality. It is your sense of logic that determines how accurate the thought or hallucination might be compared to reality. It is hard to determine between reality and hallucination because hallucination adheres to reality. But if you can detect like in a lucid dream (aware of being in a dream) that it’s a hallucination you’re ok. It’s not that difficult to determine what thought or hallucination fits if you’re experiencing (or expecting) allot of symptoms having an automatic thought process that simplifies things by showing the most accurate possibility alone to the individual by involuntary thoughts and possibly hallucination. This can be a more accurate depiction of what’s not reachable by the actual senses. The point or idea is that hallucinations and involuntary thoughts mimic reality as best they can, so, they can be used to determine what is beyond our senses reach either corresponding with the senses themselves (hallucination) or through mind talk (which is the method that most mimics what we call telepathy and is much more controlled and has less effect on your behaviour and environment than hallucination). This mind talk or “intrusive thoughts” can be our sense of logic. It’s our sense of what’s real that makes up our involuntary thoughts and hallucinations so they’re may be an ounce or two of truth in them even though they aren’t real they can be identical ideas to what is really there. This is to be used for those who can’t see or hear what are out of reach of their senses like sonar or radar and further aid those who have and impairment or just want to experiment with extending their senses. This only applies to the unwell. Like I have said amphetamine could mimic the hypomanic state in regular people perhaps. This could be a tool for treating a range of mental disorders. Depression, lack of communication in certain critical mental conditions.(Alzheimer’s etc.) It’s not just guessing at involuntary thoughts and hallucinations, the tool combines accurate and distorted data collected by the senses. This extends the senses that help us try to understand. (Only some of us may have this as a mental pattern). You may be calling this a delusion well I call a delusion an idea. And remember, an idea can make the body including the brain do interesting things. Mono ideo dynamics Determining what’s real and what’s not isn’t a problem here, you know what’s a thought and an actual sound or hallucination when this is occurring so if they combine to make a more accurate awareness with good results than it doesn’t matter whether it’ telepathy or a mental tool isolated to the mind its generating data for the individual I assure you. Collecting data even from other people’s minds is definitely a factor in this theory (it’s a tangent but it’s important.) Involuntary thought is inner thought that appears to be info coming from an obvious source or other person. This is when the argument for delusion is most appropriate. Telepathy is a possible conclusion in the case of mind chatter or involuntary or external thoughts unlike ‘sense extension’ which is a potential tool involving similar aspects but also the actual environment. The mind to mind thing doesn’t involve physical reality like the sense extension theory which involves hearing and assuming all five senses if you were sick enough could improve the perception of our environment by way of hallucination corresponding with the senses, verses logical lingual additions to your line of thought (involuntary thoughts) which can be thought alone (mind talk) This opens a window to hybrid hearing combining involuntary thought with semi audible data, this was my first discovery and personal experience along the line of useful mental activity. So I would call it all external or involuntary mental data. The reason I included the telepathy as idea in this was because sense extension which may be provable is using the same material our thoughts are made of suggesting that the other ideas are worth experimenting with. I suggest mental information can be projected into the metaphysical reality affectively by a person just like shouting a person’s name. This is blatantly how it works from my perspective. What we imagine goes out into the air and some of us are there to hear it within our thoughts; mind chatter. Talking to yourself in your head as well as other transmissions or incoming additions. Not something we do all the time. Some people rarely do it or experience it. These are introspective expressions nevertheless they are the fabric of what sense extension involves. So if sense extension, (because it uses the senses, reality and hallucination/involuntary thought) can be tested and valuable info is collected from those tests, because of its use of involuntary thoughts which mimics telepathy, it could help prove or add merit to the idea of telepathy and its other explanations that are as follows. Proving telepathy involves seeing how things like sense extension is in the same weave as actual things we use or experience like thought, mental chatter, hallucination, dreams. This part of the universe is becoming objective when using a hybrid or functional form to better understand our surroundings. Just believing in these functions and experiencing them improves your regular perception and observational skills. These are hybrid metaphysical tools for perceiving your surroundings by use of hallucination and or thought and actual fractured data picked up by the senses. I tackle this mind chatter idea more so because it’s a solid symptom that doesn’t fail, like hallucination often does. Thoughts in the form of language coming from people around you or your multipersonalitied conscience is a good thing as long as it’s a good thing. When it no longer is in the range of being able to be used as a tool, these thoughts can be turned off or turned on by meds and belief or disbelief in the idea. But when it’s happening properly, like in hypomania, it does act as an aid in awareness of what’s most likely going on in other people’s thoughts. It informs you of the most likely thought usually in relation to you, aiding you every time by making you aware of something you didn’t know before. Word for word telepathy is a miracle, mental chatter that informs you of what’s most accurately going on in other people’s heads by way of involuntary lingual statements in the mind is not. It’s worth investigating, it’s a gift that has never led me to harm, only understanding. The fact that it’s in your head makes it a passive process where you have the option of responding or not, verbally or mentally if you’re a believer in telepathy. You can have communications, often in the form of mental lingual impressions from people around you, as long as their chattering in their heads. More often they respond verbally or through body language. (This could be also called a thought related delusion, and it probably is) Like sense extension it helps figure out without effort what’s most likely going on somewhere else but this involves getting a mental impression of what’s going on in someone else’s head and apparently only if It’s about you or directed to you, mostly. Telepathy and sense extension go hand in hand. What’s real and usable and what’s a symptom may need to be looked over and not just thrown in the isolation chamber. Mind chatter and thought insertion are two different things I think. Thought insertion means you think someone or something else is in your head and it is overwhelming. Mind chatter or “telepathy” follows a pattern of logic that is more precise than your own usually, it follows a rule, I am certain of it. That’s why it’s better to use cause it’s your intuition delivered lingualy. Thought insertion is like having someone else in control, whereas mind chatter is somewhat under control and mostly in your control as you are the experienced one. Involuntary thoughts (other people’s voices) could be telepathy and if it follows such a dynamic and structured law it should not be called thought insertion. Sense extension is something more practical and objective than telepathy type thinking, but it is untested and like I said, I deal with mind talk even when I am well and it is always accurate and helpful. The idea of partly using data from the peripheries of our trusted senses shows that these elements are not to be underrated or mislabelled. The fact that we can only see farther stars in the sky by looking off to the side is a great example of use of the peripheries of our senses. Similar is my experience of seeing peoples more true emotions on their faces when using peripheral vision. Is esp or just one example of a passive and informative hallucination? Let us not throw aside my interpretation of the experience of useful and unique mental activity by giving it the unattractive label of thought insertion when the fundamentals of these ideas may be useful for inventing evolution like tools to reach out into parts of the universe we have not yet studied. Distorted senses combined with an inherent logical thought process that is accurate if not pragmatic I my experience in every case. This could be an opportunity to reopen the study of parapsychology. (The fact that these are just an accurate perception mechanism is good enough). To reveal this delusion, we’ll assume all this is still only going on in one’s active imagination. However using a pattern of brain activity that mimics telepathy as a tool to read his/her environment better is cool; the only difference this has to sense extension is that there is no real life data involved. This in my opinion makes it the most commonly used and confronted with, solid, and most effective tool I deal with. (even when well) There are practices like muscle reading which is getting data through seeing a person’s movement that are examples of a semi proven method that mimic things like telepathy. I propose mental activities that are involuntary and positive like some of the symptoms of a mental illness, could be used as a link between what we see as dysfunctional mental activity and a breakthrough into the endeavour to prove that thoughts are part of our dynamic world as a form and can be used as a medical or social tool. This mental activity in serious cases of unwellness can alter the way we operate, not just the way we think. Paranoia could take over and it could be false data, and the repercussions could crescendo. In their reality and in reality itself. I say listening to your thoughts (whatever form they take) and interpreting them, it’s safer than experimenting with hallucination because mind chatter can be a factor in hypomania and in wellness. Only in the case of hallucination being used in a controlled environment with positive energy being present, for instance with a schizophrenic, they can be very well while hallucinations are still present. If in that state the hallucination tends follow what the senses are trying to perceive and use a situation like the sense extension experiment involving hallucination and obstructed hearing it may prove to be a good tool/idea possibly for aiding the hearing impaired in this situation or a similar situation that works. It could work because it could fill in more data where it was lacking and it may inherently be attempting to be accurate. This attempt is evident in other mental processes mentioned here. In the case of experimenting with this type of thing never should you be depressed manic, psychotic or over whelmed with psychological issues. If you are in an unwell state seek help, but be open to the new ideas that may present themselves to you. Know that the brain is elastic and does heal. The hippocampus and you are always growing. If it’s suggesting that its telepathy aiding us and guiding us that makes you sceptical I’m not going to just drop it. Be pragmatic and get a bit more insight into how it worked for me. First off, all that makes it telepathy as I’ve said is that it only involves thought. One thing that suggests that it is a thought from another source is the amount of unusable but accurate information that comes along with these seemingly incoming transmissions. It behaves like a mental environment that doesn’t involve just you; the metaphysical plain. You mostly hear in your thoughts what applies to you from those around you but there is other mental exclamations at times coming from different sources for different destinations, or in most cases mental exclamations just for themselves. Also getting an involuntary thought of apparently what is being said somewhere completely out of reach of the senses is a factor here. This is bigger than the structure of telepathy. If you are being talked about in the other room the brain informs you of it and who is saying it, this is clearly a survival instinct to gain intelligence of what may be out there and what most likely is, this type of sense may be evidently seen and utilized more by animals than humans. Probably because of the invention of language, putting the sense in recession. These ideas suggest that the metephysical plain is not just in my head but is there for everybody (and that privacy may be an issue.) The experienced and well user of the mental functions could actually receive and send out positive and effective transmissions with a ripple effect, real or not. (for what it’s worth, even to gain confidence and boost chemicals, respond and react accordingly to these transmissions and you’ll find it fits and improves your presence and role in the situation, that’s my experience) while the sick are just spiralling and not even communicating because their usually using negative or confusing behaviour or energy. What’s also evident of its existence is the obviousness the transmissions go both ways. I’m not just getting your impression of me in my thoughts; it’s obvious you’re getting mine. Its conjoint mental activity. It involves everyone but I think it requires a guide. If these are just symptoms, they rarely intensify and do dissipate more or less with wellness. I say if it’s not the metaphysical plain it’s at least explained by two minds appearing to correspond by (often coincidentally) one playing out the others activity as accurately as it can within the mind. This as a law would be evident enough to prove telepathy. I see a constant pattern in when the transmitters communicate, that they are thinking that thought and responding to one another (seen though body language and verbal responses. That’s telepathy like activity rationalised. It’s not always word for word because often I ask and they say no I did not think those words. Apparently it’s a mental impression of yourself delivered in the form of verbal thoughts or inaudible expressions from other people in the vicinity or elsewhere. Finally the hybrid hearing idea.The most effective and safe of the ideas here. (Thought and hearing mixed) It would be hard to disprove because of a lack of qualified candidates and the scenarios required. The hybrid hearing idea like I’ve said is not activity isolated only to thought, but the idea that involves using factual data and the imaginary simultaneously. Sense extension without hallucination. Deciphering between actual sense and involuntary thought is easy, you know what you hear and what you think, they become conjoint in some mental states indicating that the possibility of an extension “fill in the blacks” scenario. Know that this involves either an overactive imagination. The logical involuntary lingual thought mental activity combined with the brains attempt to hear the less audible is a marriage that could create the extension of the impaired or out of reach sense (hearing in this case) What I propose is happening here may be hearing the bass of a conversation because bass carries farther, and your mind places the other frequencies (treble) in the form of an involuntary imaginary sound. I suggest this is too intricate and accurate to be delusion. To actually be aware of the volume according to the distance or nature of the info that comes from not the unknown but an obvious source is evident of that intricacy. The psychotic skills talked about here are among the skills we’re all born with. All humans are capable of psychosis. Which is the foundation of these things. I just find mania to be safe, similar and more of an advantage. Our brains and beings all have an inner need and desire to figure out what is reality. Even when that reality is obstructed, it uses other means to get around to perceiving the world correctly. This line of thought has the potential to be a step forward in changing others view of these symptoms. To suggest that they are meant to be enhance to our advantage, not abolished; this is the stuff of change at an evolutionary level because as I said earlier it does involve everybody and anybody. The Chemically Endowed / THE HEALTH SYSTEM James McFarlane June 1st, 2016 Mania is the increasing of one’s “reward” chemicals in the brain chronically (a symptom of Bipolar). A fact about mania is that it is not so often as out of control as we are tempted to assume. We don’t know the limits it can push positive wise. A negative aspect is surely something that we have seen occasionally. An example could be a world leader like Alexander the great. On the positive side of it are people like Van Gough and many other artists, teachers and authors. Making tireless efforts at just causes inspired by epiphany is just one of the activities a bipolar individual has the option of pursuing. (Sometimes with phenomenal results) This can be a positive activity of the broad ranged individual. Mania is an abundant source of potential positive energy. The mythical Greek god Dionysus has been called the god of mania. He partied allot and was the estranged son of Zeus. There were cults formed in his honor and the remanence of them still exist today as a common and highly manipulated, manipulative tradition known as the entertainment industry. Antianxietys, antidepressants, antipsychotics and mood stabilizers; drugs that (have attributes that researchers have neglected to even identify) help and plague the bipolar individual as the most commonly used tool to ward off symptoms. In some cases, recreational drugs like amphetamine ((that seem to force up the mood of an individual) among drugs that are normally oriented with unwellness)) I suggest, could be a surprising aid in speeding up the recovery process of depression (the opposing symptom in bipolar to mania which have psychosis as a common theme at the peripheries of both poles of experience) through cognitive stimulation. This is important because antidepressants take several weeks to take effect and suicide could be prevented by the induction of a more open approach to medical uses of recreational drugs. This activity should be combined with social interaction in the case of recovery because it surrounds the recovery of the social aspects of the self (I do not recommend this as the first option for a recovery process). Like most drugs this behavior may take years off the recovery process but could wind up taking years off your life. If closely watched and tested the medicinal benefits of illegal or unreaserched drugs as well as further data released on drugs in general and their common circumstances may be a great stride in the remedy of mental, psychological conditions and social misconceptions which solutions are still being put off by ignorance of the populous and adverse political agendas. Other treatment options not listed above include electroshock therapy and psychical exercises like cognitive behavioural therapy. These alternatives are used less most likely because pharmaceuticals are a huge part of controlling the populous and funding corporations and government. However, a regimented combination of any of these factors could be a breakthrough for some. Called “consumers” by people that work in the pharmaceutical industry, these human beings endowed with seemingly new chemicular behaviors have a heavy cross to bear. I believe that it is obviously possible that over half the population (just to be fair) are born chemically inclined, but forced under the heel of the majority of the others who are from my perspective, psychologically twisted by ignorance, power over the sick, and unjustified behaviour based (((most likely (just to be fair) for some, subconsciously))) on either inherent or just blatant jealousy. I say this because the majority of people in a position of dominance in our society, (security guards, nurses, the police, doctors what have you) are brutally unfair, unprofessional, and ignorant in most cases. This attitude fuels the biggest and oldest and crudest intolerance ever committed by one group against its own people. The mentally endowed verses the psychologically twisted and everyone in between or strung along is the latest and oldest injustice I can see other than the genocide of the shamanistic cultures of north and south America. The most obviously funded sick lack of justice and care for their own counterpart (ever challenged till present day) by a government is currently at hand. It’s a matter of time and interest among corporations. Their need for money will guarantee that the proper drugs will be the end of this problem. Their survival as a business is the only co-dependent factor for the cause. Once the sick become well, ((the inevitable outcome (already achieved)) the drugs will be reinvented a few times ultimately plateauing as a renewable idea by these scientific salesman and their evil subordinates running the place like some kind of sick joke to themselves. Those who wield tools and permission to inflict pain, bondage and any form of abuse they find delectable simply to put off paperwork (and sooth their own often nocturnal boredom) only assigned to be used in the inevitable malpractice suits soon to be ensued by the just with the just against the corrupt. With blunt force and jealousy against their only threat and reliable witness to the sick twisted 24 hour a day fetish of legally and illegally taking the rights and freedoms and everything that makes life desirable from the ill to make way for a prolonged treatment of abuse and betrayal from the psychologically bent nurses and security guards, doctors, police not to forget your everyday sociopath / psychopath walking the streets and perverting the direction and attention of the staff and patients of mental health wings across the country (Canada). Folks like these who lack the basic right and wrong skills, used obviously and openly by the sick and the meek to inevitably over throw the ranks of sociopaths and psychopaths governing, misusing and perverting the writing of history. All of their efforts put into this “note taking” endeavour to be rewarded with indulgence into the sick pleasures of a dysfunctional beauracracy and political disgrace to be. As for the sick, (and well) the neglect of one’s health and deterioration of relationships is often inevitable during episodes and when being forced against such characters mentioned above. These new victims often leaving the institution with their own newly afflicted psychological scars. This is understandable considering how different and under informed the external world and the unbalanced individual usually are. The unwell individual tends to get overwhelmed with heightened and distorted perception, and the outside worlds clashes with their reality. Inevitably against their will, (usually after lots of experience) and sadly, many forms of legalized abuse from the system that seems to be above all law, they become accustomed to the system and more knowledgeable about medication. This is the only way I’ve seen someone become well, for longer. It’s important to channel the knowledge from their experience into productive endeavours. This is the exceptional goal. Chemicals are a big part of the inclined individual’s life (Pharmaceutical, natural and usually recreational). Often enough a well-balanced person emerges but the fight against unwellness and addiction is ongoing for many. Even once well, the psychological challenges of adjusting to life can set in. Thankfully this is also treatable either with anxiety medicine or therapy (or in the case of the Canadian health system, prolonged and tormenting hospital stays crudely striped with prolonged bondage and isolation chambers. Psychology being the completely unfunded and rightful alternative. Wellness comes with time and knowledge as well as trial and error. The potential experience for these individuals is more than the average prescription. Logically and philosophically looking at these problems is key to understanding them. Stigma; it’s a thing like racism that is rampant in every culture today but especially in western culture apparently. A mild example of stigma is using a negative label or misconception such as “split personality” or “psycho”. These are words attached to now folklore, lies and misunderstanding so this ignorance is apparently the first thing to go. In the case of bipolars, it is often amplified social ability versus depression or other emotional states that is confused with complete loss of judgement. Schizophrenics seem to have an even keel in terms of personality in most cases. I know there is no mood disorder but full on hallucinations. This could be due to an unexplained increased constant source of dopamine in their system I suggest gets used to produce complex distractions that could be used to their own advantage, like poetry etc.. (Unproven connection) The biggest problem is the assumption our government and citizens have; that the mentally ill are violent. This ultimately subjects us to being treated like escaped zoo animals by every authority figure you can think of. This is how they legally get us into straps; the word violent. This word can be used in ways it shouldn’t which is often the case. Once declared violent and mentally ill you’re bound for a living hell most likely for quite some time. All the ugly side effects of the system itself leave you psychologically damaged. You get a fate worse than prison by far, especially if you’re rebellious. I have rarely if ever have seen an act of violence towards another from a person that lives in a society that has them already sedated, and threatened by fearful ignorant authority figures with shackles, tasers, injections and cruelty in general at the ready. I’ve mostly seen vigilance or peaceful protest in those in an unwell state, simply because they have the logic to see what they’re up against. We’ve seen this all our lives. Even those who fight back really never had a chance to show that they meant no harm. I say this because our common goal as this type of person is to be understood. While up against a mass of smug sociopath liars who are constantly projecting joyously in groups that we’re mentally incompetent and incapable. This whole thing makes me want to kick an isolation room wall in and pull out the insulation over and over again. That type of treatment on that scale and for that length of time inspires anger in the most emotionally controlled of individuals. This type of passive brutality cannot be easily understood by people who are on a regular level of unchanging dopamine and serotonin. Basically, it is those who are in control and uninformed that are inevitably inflicted with the stigma for mental illness otherwise these are used as tools by the PhDs that as of late have the audacity to wield side effects deceptively like better acting medication (as well as transference upon their staff). Mania is a powerful source of energy. Success of any kind is a possibility with people that have the genetic makeup of the bipolar individual and quite possibly the schizophrenic and schizoaffective system casualties. Most who blindly submit are in a sedated or in a financially constricted reality for most of their lives. However massive bodies of work that gain quality over time with practice are usually seen with all types of mentally ill individuals. Productivity is a given with excess energy and hopefully with excess dopamine. This is something the bipolar individual has at their disposal. (The excess dopamine, like I stated earlier, being the undiscovered advantage for schizophrenic and hybrid diagnosis individuals). If psychological ailment is part of ones developmental makeup, seek help through private practices in your nearest large city center, like psychologist offices, astrological predictions or the cheaper alternative; fortune cookies. ((all systems more trustable than the political money grab being masqueraded by the Canadian government and god knows where)). Hobbies will get lots of attention and skills like writing will be improved for most. Phenomenal ideas and activities must be given attention. It must come from a desire to be appreciated in a world that sees them as useless and treated as such as well as resentment for the genetic advantage and the mitochondrial patterns I will stipulate below. First off I am compelled to write; things like physical agility are improved as well when new energy comes along. Now, the organelle mitochondria in animal cells produces energy for the cell. Like the patterns of the near solar system and probably menstrual cycles and similar monthly patterns recorded to date, all of these cells (differing by their design) work as groups. Most likely shifting by the behavior and the pressures of the environment and or the environments one is involved with as well as (chiefly) the positive verses negative intentions or energy put forth. The positive being more strong and more apt to gaining velocity compared to negative endeavours while the ignorant become subjected to rapid, (fuelled by culture and social upheaval) evolutionary de-emphasis. Tradition will save many who are open minded. It has been theorized that a person who inherits the bipolar gene may have abnormal mitochondrial activity. I reiterate that this would cause fluctuating energy production for the whole body and possibly more so for the brain, ultimately spiking or dropping essential consciousness related chemicals like serotonin and dopamine. Mainly above the baseline of level as far as positive living goes indicating that it’s an innovative evolutionary trait. (These chemicals and the proper medicine are prime factors for the bipolars however independent) the natural chemicals)) These are known simply as chemicals that affect our mood. Or sometimes referred to as (and in everyone’s experience) reward chemicals (endorphins) and oxytocin (the love chemical). The mitochondrial theories as well as more psychological rather than biological theories (i.e. “mono-ideo dynamics”) are unproven. (most called into question more than 100 years ago left unelaborated but proposing a hypothesis unfinished on purpose, ie. Mono-ideo dynamics meaning that an idea can make the body do anything the body is capable of to the peripheries, any part of the body. The “any” part of course cautiously suggesting the brain) The future of mental health I would say is the extensive categorizing of the dosage and drug or treatment in relation to different types of people or circumstances. (i.e. more than 10 conditions, more like a dictionary of conditions to be) Also, once the medical scam plateaus (due to actual research and political attention) psychology as a treatment method will be implemented beyond nurses attempting some form of cognitive behavioral therapy. It is those employed to work with the mentally ill and the graduates of psychology or related studies who must insist on more data collection and way more research into the possibilities the mind itself can offer in medical treatment of all illness. It occurs to me now obviously that psych has been previously placed on the priority list as secondary to the drug trade and religion so to gain funding for an renewable priceless trade like deduction of illogical pursuits and outcomes. (A basic form of psychology that should aid dangerous things like delusion and the laws of attraction). Psychology research mut be put on the forefront so we can get meds chosen, dosages corrected and diagnoses discovered and made faster and more accurately. (And produce more jobs in all levels of the field of medicine) It’s a century old marriage and divorce between medicine, and free will. Psychology should be treated as equally as important as medicine as it is half the battle against corruption of our society, ecosystem and those who inhabit it. Back to the original induction and pragmatic endeavour of self controlling mental chemicals that have their own agenda, or the agenda of the moon and the weather; the social activities of a manic person can be difficult to put up with for others because it’s constant and overbearing at times. This factor most likely is being brought up because of my experience with passive aggressive tendencies. What is interesting is that it can stimulate chemicals in people around the source (more importantly I say between couples). Basic emotional chemicals like endorphins and oxytocin (excitement, survival and `love` related chemicals in any order) can be increased in other people at higher than normal rates and levels (not to mention the freed individual themselves). These chemicals can be a blissful and natural human experience when people are close to one another. This can be achieved through stylized communication between persons. In cases of manic people with other manic people; it’s a vibrant social atmosphere. It’s manifesting the inner emotion or thought into reality or more commonly manifesting it into iteration. In any case one can activate the other pretty easily without consumption of any substance. Any communication and body language is the stimulation factor here when differing types of people get together. This is what psychology is; ‘Behaviour changing chemicals, changing environment’. Boring and seemingly opposing efforts is also a common occurrence because it’s hard to stay positive for most and for those around them because, it’s been a long battle and opposites attract. Phrases like that as well as phrasing like “everybody’s different” is an indication that intellect and work ethic are also independent factors essential to the coexisting of partners in general. The state best to experiment in as far as is hypomania (medium mania) or even just wellness. Ways to activate a slow rise in your serotonin level if you’re not bipolar would be using a mild stimulant like amphetamine (Dexedrine). This is not something to try on your own. I’m suggesting this to be a carefully overseen test involving chemicals that are dangerous to be used in excess and for prolonged periods of time. If you become manic, know that once your manic states have passed and you’re well you still possess the ability to partake in and test different psychological and parapsychological activities (it does stay with you and up to date). One thing to discover while well is that a person can up their brain’s chemicals at will without the use of drugs, rather, behaviour or behavioural exercises. Once you’ve done that and or submitted to the opposing factors of the weaker you are both freed. This has been going on for billions of years in many forms. Dancing, sex, geometry, sensory deprivation (like vision quests or modern culture traditions) gaining knowledge about the earth from the stars, cultural and group oriented endeavours like art or chemical revolution (i.e. drugs rock and roll all stimulate the body chakras as well as the earth’s). Other theories basically thrown around by the wiser of the eastern west in the form of literature or poetry comes to mind, like; “electricity comes from other planets”, in relation to mono-ideo dynamics in relation to bipolars and nature; “The Gift” etc. (The Velvet Underground, 1969). All of these “foggy notions” are there for usually the reason they’re being inspired, meaning put art intentions and science together and you’ve got something good. Unless you succumb to the marketplace. Only drugs inspire chemicals on command without the need for circumstance (this is a modern cultural tradition). The nature of mania is that you become ‘antennae’ of sorts that more easily gathers information. It’s up to you what you do with your energy or your manic that turns the tides in your favour. Your perception may be higher in this state, but there (as always) is; a down side of it as there is duality in all things in nature. Psychosis depression and psychological problems plague the inexperienced young bipolar individual’s lives until an effective treatment plan is accepted or forced on them. Other ways to cushion this (and to avoid too many episodes) is complying with treatment plans to your liking and staying away from recreational drugs for the most part. Or rather, opposing and cheating the laws of the flawed marketplace. The process as a whole is always a learning experience for most. For sure, unbalanced brains are the next step in biological evolution. The union of the mind and body, the relationship between the physical and metaphysical, and how human culture is merged with the ethereal will occur along with the reopening of the practices originating from primitive psychology like the agenda of the heavenly bodies of fire above. Victim Psychology One thing I have realized over the past many years is that there are two kinds of people in the world; the aggressors and the passive. Like the chimps and the bonobos, the psychopaths and the victimized, the sociopath and the weary guardian, the farmer and the farm animal, the nurse and the sickly the dominant prey upon the weak. I have found the sociopath to be friendly and the psychopath to be gentlemanly and wise at times. This does not condone they’re compulsive destructive social and physical abuse that they inflict upon they’re victims. A psychopath is someone who enjoys committing violence upon another. A sociopath is one who has no care for the wellbeing of others. This is rampant in modern Canadian livelihood. One other thing I’ve noticed about aggressors is that they go in and out of remission. (Which is cooperative behavior) A volatile destruction of one’s trust of others and distorting of one’s actions that is prevalent in victims is sexual abuse of the young and old alike. Next to physical assault it’s the most reactive and high profile to this day of violations of another person therefore it falls in the category of psychopathy from what I can see because of its physical and emotional impact. Victims carry on in public, say profoundly erratic and shocking statements, take up malevolence for those who stand by them and seek a vengeance that has no sympathy in any circumstance against theirs and other persons abusers. Their paranoia fuelles the problem of wrongful accusation cases ongoingly across the board. Usually a current abuser is in the background with these cases fuelling the fire while the victim holds out for some kind of mercy or justice. Wife beating and general abuse of children and animals are the most haness and hated by the public and the spectrum of victims in this country. (Canada) Sexual abuse is the most widely discussed and concerning of abusive behaviors towards humanity, (to the point that it’s an ongoing obsession and topic in the daily conversation in a conflictive situation between persons and within groups of all sizes) breeds decay within the psychological health of the groups themselves(like paranoia to a schitsophrenic) and they revel in it, abusers and all. All the power to the victims for their enthusiasm, but to reiterate what I wrote above, these actions are somewhat on occasion either false puppetry put on by the victim’s close and currently occupied as; violator, or by bystanders who just want a show or to gossip. The falsity and sadly sociopathic act of ‘fish netting’ just about every oddball as a possible suspect of these lowly behaviors is very common in today’s society. However, I have realized that their paranoia is justified by the number of women beating and sexual abuse cases showing up as a reality today and that there is a correlation with the amount of homosexuals that are violently “in the closet” who turn up in our courts and also who don’t (mainly due to victims trying to hold their lives together). Can this be explained by ethnicity clashes? Gangs?Terrorism?Languages? Why this correlation? Is it obviously connected to what was formerly seen as perversion, homosexuality, as a factor in these broken homes. Just because by my census in northern Ontario found that heterosexuality was a minority here and that the abuse rate changed for the worse shows that it is possibly a correlation. How long has this been going on? I find that these men need to use women as a shield, a sexual punching bag that’s worth no more than a cheap roast beef. This is a new social disease. Not homosexuality, but the act of taking a mate of the sex you aren’t interested in for personal gain. The action of these men is typical abuse and the women go on destroying their psychological health through these empty relationships. This one (me) who is looking for a healthy relationship feels ripped off however the sociopathic women choose their life like dolls instead. While the jails hold the psychopaths. The police jail and court workers go on with their corrupt behavior in our region. It’s that that continues to choke our young women into a compromise. They are a social disease, we are under siege from sick nations and countries and our men are allowing our women and children to fall by the wayside to make room for more homosexual dominance. It’s time to liberate the inflicted to avoid more people crossing over to psychological toxicity. As these victims start to depreciate into self destructing and outwardly destructive tendencies. Psychologists must prescribe and teach like never before in this age of lies, abuse and corruption

LO-FI Music Explained JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 LO-FI MUSIC EXPLAINED The additional distorted data collected from the peripheries of our senses deliberately recreated and reproduced by means of adverse, outdated and unintentionally altered technology and style. Recorded or preformed ideally in the form of what we know as music and or film. broken record? More like audible snowflake. The geometry of nature get betrayed and expands when recording art under predetermined and active circumstances at the whim of the conditions of the environment and it’s setbacks. LO-FI Music/Media is the effect that the decay of our technology has on the pristine conditions in which we perform and record our visual and audible experience and the deliberate recreation and reproduction of these anomalies. Atonally thrusting forth with a foggy notion that these new audio and visual recordings of patterns that emerge from the more primitive forms of technology over time vaguely and remarkably respond to and compliment the setting of the reality intentionally being recorded on an almost conscious level. The question of how to activate them and where hey come from arises when artists of our own age with a knowledge of the recent technological and cultural past attempt the avantgard. Using predominantly analogue and traditional technology affected by time itself that we can alter ourselves in combined with natural (random) rate, voltage, velocity selection what have you to reproduce art AND what the ultimate effect of the recording process has on these works of avantgard art is the idea behind and the method LO-FI Music/Media. -James McFarlane (Seamus) I blew up Einsteins theory on insanity — James McFarlane (Seumas) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 Einstein said that the definition of insanity was repeating ones actions over and over again, expecting different results. I say that this behavior is far from insane. It is the fundamental law of how our development, bodies, daily lives, cultural traditions, reproduction, evolution and solar systems function. When looked at closely we see that even the most repetitious behavior is constantly changing at various rates. This is a law in all things in our universe therefore nothing ever really repeats itself. Rotations beautifully exist in nature and follow an imperfect geometry that we mimic in our cultures according the the schedules of the massive bodies above. Rock and roll, like opium or the moon have differing effects on the geometric patterns of our lives and evolution. Some rock an roll music by use of musical instruments (science) has combined the harmony of natures repetitious behavior (the drone) with the ever changing distortion factors like; time, mass, pitch and amplitude that are essential and fundamental to the evolutionary principle of repetitious behavior. Its the repetition that is the foundation we stand on, as long as your standing on it, expect something new to come about. Simply our presence in a scenario changes the physical and metaphysical environment at some rate, its our behavior and descisions that change that rate what manifests as the artwork or reality. — James McFarlane (Seumas) lyrics — James McFarlane (Seamus(Substreet Drones)) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016

NEW — weird song (2016) the reaper, put the beat on hold, bones dug up just like the sunflowers in the snow, now deeper into the river of sight, if you go in that cave dont turn out the light, white light shines bright, no stars tonight, behind the vox stack, their singin heart is black, subwayswhislting over my head, thank god i climbed aboard instead, reap what you sew 4x (coda) Heart is black ive been had (ive been had) ive gone mad (ive gone mad) ths is war, (this is war) i told you all this before i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, heart is black face the facts, art is black, oohicant stay, (ooh icant stay) cant go your way, (cant go your way) i felt you sweet smack, Your smoke is black (smoke is black) i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, Beautiful face she thinks shes alright, butshes out of sight, swim in for a bite, underneath the white light, thining of fashons, and still looking smashing appealing to fools, out of all kinds of schools, lo frequency base, mixed with the acid taste, no it couldnt compare, to your beautiful face. you left a hole in my chest, a better shot than the rest, do you have five minutes, for a warhol screen test, at dawn i see a star burning not lie the rest, cant help but sit and wonder where its going next 4x cant help but sit and wonder where shes going next 4x Blue Haired BelleBlue Haired Belle, hangs around the gates of hellMorning stars get lost, in the flow of your blue sky locksDon’t despair, you’ve been on a track please take care, Come fly with me, its your blue sky that’s pure dont you see. Its alright You, me , everybody,we, see, only moonbeams,comets not so high,eathquakes in the sky,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright, You light the way, through tunnels, try not the scrape, the gunnels,on the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timeon the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timelalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalaooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaoooooo Main Street When you called me up hereIdidnt feel like walkin, Now your sayin to me,youdidnt feel like talkinwhy are we so clumsy,so clumsy with our breadnow you tell me honey, how you keep your stomach fed, always lending yourself out, to the freaks that dot our lives,honey when you gunna shout, at those drones in out beehive,take a walk uptown, to the bucket where they drown,gunna tell them when they get out,to get theiur handouts downtown MorningAt the dawn of a new age,Sun comes up, smell the burning sage,take a step foreward, turn the pagesay goodbye to all those dark dark days, MAking a brew I stare a the fire,stir the pot, and then connect the wires,turn on the amp, the music inspires,got to free my mind from all the cheats and all the liars. Morningdrone You, you know what I mean, when isay,that nothings gunna happen today,and you, you know what imean,wheni tell you it’s just not my scene, you, yeees you, what the hell are we gunnado?and you, the only one you listen to, is a man, by the name of, Lou. We, yeees us three, could make it at a defferentpace,I, know that, it’s a discrace, Lord, take us to another place, So grab your stuff, your record albums,you take the wine, and ill take the guns, and into the ocean, we will go, cause you know, were headed, for the coast,so raise up your glasses, for a toast,ha, which one of us can drink the most,the father, theson, or the holy ghost,and you say that this car can race,but can it take us to that other place, a different side of mother natures face. take me to another place. Nothing drones honey comes from lots of work, sticky feet moving berserkpatterns form in crude beauty, drones fulfill a pointless duty, honey drips, from the hive, golden jkelly feeds their wife, pretty flowers messy home, nothing drones on like the cone, back and forth, in and out, dancing like we use our mouths,the pay is small and so are you, results of that sweetens my tooth, the task is never ending, constantly descending, dripping in the mouths of those not worth defending. Oppenheimer park Rolling down the open road, to the end of the line,end of the world, end of the illusion of time,I go down to the water, and feel the cool surf,hear music in the air and take it for what it’s worth, cant understand why people, could live on so little,when so much goes through them, and through the needle, so hasty, with the selling of their saved souls,the western downtown is bright, blunt, and bold. Walk up and down throughout the day, out of your mind,think of your home nevermore, till the end of timethe loop drones on and on like a broken clock,don’t need to climb the montain, cause your at the top Hastngs is not coming for you, your coming for it,like hell it bewccons like the incline of a pit,the east side, sits a nd people come from near and far,to sit, and sink, into the grass, in oppenheimer park oracle so your torched,your hanging by a thread,don’t scorch, your pretty little head,wishing through your lips that it worntpass,feels like your turning from a liquid to a gas, take a trip right to the edge of your mind, consciousness poured out and left behind,take a break from all the flats and all the sharpd,ride a cloud of nothing, and numb your broken heart To thew edge of your mind, distortion blurrs the line bettweenwhats out there and whats inside, deep in the cave, breath in the cold air,see shadows on the wall,… stare bring news just like homing pigeon,come down, and start a new religion, leave now, and speak out, littereally or metephorical,the knowledge you posess will make you the oracle. Pipe Dream A science experiment gone totally wronga weather balloon with some kind of evil about it,all the kids at school could see it above the horizon,my friends and i knew we’d be better off without it, king kong, walked along high street, where the freaks and thugs call home,if he could reach this floating disaster on time,he knew he would never have to die alone,hethough about it and realised the people wouldntunderstandhe knew their alien nation would turn this ape into a man, darkened minds turn on a dime, revolve in time along thin white linesyin and yang drip from a wolfs fang, one pulls the trigger the other goes band why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Darkened fool has lots of toolsd, dead at the deep end of the pool, boring times and pouring rhyme, the question, is this really mine? why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Psych em out Psychem out like rabid vermin, make em shout a phony sermon,see right through their simple game,right to their core their thoughts of shame, watchem blow upon the fire, rocks explode right on the liar, social change brings end to war, housewife trembles on the floor,backwardsforewards, up and downvoisc encircle all aorund, observeprecieve hear see know learn mirror be, identify possible flaws, of the menace with no causethe time is now, so try to learn how to bend the rules they use to keep you down. Rabbit hole Salvage you mind while it is illuminated, a fire out of control,a cabbage in ttime, right now it is fumigated, wired and housing a soul,badhabbits in line, schedualed to be terminated, inspire you out of your hole, A rabbit , redefined and underrated but higher than ever before, drink up while the tea is hot and bright blue, the flesh of the gods makes it so,3 caps and some stems is all i can do, to see shooting stars upon the snow, think sweetly of me, with emotions so true as yu stand and look through the window,think of thinkgs to do when im gone for good now, waving at the bus watching it go, Im down in the southland, with deep curving valleys and bridges all rusty and crumbling, with grasses all dying and rivers of green and subways whistling under me. a spot on the corner , a 30 dollar gutar, a case and a cigarette too, is all that i need to get usedd to my home and bring my mind closer to you. The last of this song, is all out of place, but the pace rings true to the rule, of the verses before i shut tight the door on the patterns lost and misconstrewen,becauseits all backwards and forewards like this, its in shambles but its not a ruin,the end of this 4 verse song has arrived, to the point you might not clue in. Sea of lights Rockj and rave, through the night,on speed in a sea of lights,jump spin contort thrust,black white pain lust,spent a week there last might, maybe more,steal yourself a holy death crouching by the door cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Standing there all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the whilestanding all in black behind the vox stack, from behind sunglasses, we inspire the masses, cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Walk and talk it through the park,whiplashgirlchild in the darkrun run run, take a drag shoot your speed while you brag i’ve been orchestrating behind sunglasses,immitatingprodogy, and writer, man, tomboy and a throusand fans zeppelin spotlights on my brain exploding plastic in my veinhypnotyic tones as the propellers drone,mind bending sounds, resonate undreground, dak circles never weed, new york 1963, Chcmysic, velvet freak desensitize alter tweak, no money car moon or sun, sell your blood for heroin,if she ever comes now now, moe beat on that drum now now,pink perfume, mantra neumes silk screen factory tunes superstar test only the best wine coffee speed heroin rest,darkcircl;es never weep, new yourk 1963,theyve been up for weeks, in the white light the tweak, in 63 Skeleton Here we are again, moneys all been spent, you don’t know where hesbeen,hes trying to fend off things that dwell within, hes a skeleton. at the end of days hes been here before he says, narrow in mannyways,hes a skeleton,andidont know where hesgoin, or why he thinks itssnowin, he can see the wind thatsblowin, hes a skeleton, Spotlight Reap what you sew,snakes and poppys in her hair,sun flowers in the snow,make you look like your not so old,it had been so long i could not recall her face,she came outside to meet me though iwas’t her case,nowi sit and wonder if I’m out of place,the memories i had of her, are in outer space Standing all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the while,on the odd days I could talk to her,harmony and dissonence, a modern venus in furs,up and down that hallway, rotating the earth,waiting there for hours and hours, for her the quench my thirst. Sweet grass summertime,see the star shine, and i don’t mind revisiting those times,although my mind is blown, i play the drone,saying goodbye while you’re getting stoned. Vicious lips oooooo what to do,iwanna see you too,i think imgoin mad, ooooim not that sad noooi wonder sometimes where you are,what moon what planet under what star,id like to think your not that far, but we both know that trip was hard your vicious lips, eard on the airwaves, waking the dead, from their graves,your sweet, but your toxic, been three weeks since you dropped itI found it in my pocket, your trains comin I cant stop it You Made Me the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me, Come Back Around JAMES MCFARLANE·FRIDAY, MAY 13, 201610 Reads The process as a whole is always a learning experience like no other. Ultimately, like the brain has a recognition and physical atribute that corresponds with most chemicals in nature (possibly even synthetic chemicals) the psychological functions that a person can aquire are almostordaned and recieved in a timely fashion by the organ and im assuming the subconscious effortlessly and for evolutionary purpose. So I will assume everyones own, (however existential), growth experience is interesting. Having the atribute of spiking and deminishing of at least two of the brains most important chemicals related to experience, and behavior… and the awareness of the (most obvious to you) potential for not only chemical related occurances and their ripple effect, but the behavioral methods that the acute brain, manic brain, almost has a natural function to excercise and use usually either for a better survival or further expansion into astonishing existential and soon to be investigated parapsychological, social behaviors that tend to stick as long as they serve in a new type evolutionary (ie “Counter intuative”, productive and humanistic beavior that the mind eagerly draws in like an antennae recieving and storing up valueable energy. Setting this agenda and also surviving the early episodes, of bipolar, (which are usually the most drastic) are two hurdles to get over, let alone the crude, almost sickening archetectural features in our community hospitals, thats purpose cannot be desguised as heathcare to the human eye. A grossly overused assortment of bondage equipment and isolation chambers (not to mention your absence of any dignifying articles of clothing( also to be moved and set in place on occasion) nowadays plate glass walls, a whole dungeon setup designed by those people involved no less, who really probably care wheather the colour they chose or how their design would function better than the decaying sweat soaked ultimately in our home towns case, my favorite case, dried blood stained, apparenty approved for use by some dr, a single hallway, to alk up and down seemingly endlessly, untill not suprisedby the inevitable dread code white, that is the delight for the predominantly, …listen t me… dominated, by your average practicing as ferociously as they can with as little effort as possible, sociopath and more importantly to re ognise, violent violators psychopaths, who pretymch have the real pl working there stressin over what could possibly be these ppls capabilities, and are alienated inside by this evil thay cannot risk their ,,, virtully anything valuable, like a job or who knows, omg… thats why she left,,,,, so, yaa, these ppl rise like cream, annnnnd they have a really good time eeeehm, .. now nurse practitioners or legends, thir former dominator look like theyve aged, well lets say i was convinced they had beeen using prolongued use on heavy stimulents, like crack. iloldrewaout a blueprint with symboldsfr the patient advocate, neaysi mostly wantd to write and its alot of shit thats gone no doubt as home with ,,,lets say u know like fat cat. what, i was 15, and he was fat then, now hes the last one standing up there that i know of. oh yea… so i would say if u want out, and as of late i thing the design is perfect for the right ppl, socios included, fuckers, but, the dr, they are jst as careless as the security guards who cant hide haw stupid the really are and the odd couple who are revealing that their ok, still, idicovered, ,, maybe not in north bay, but in a proper community, like the city, ………..lost my train,,,, i think that i was getting at how just to be fair and …eyea 50 percent of the staff endowd with the ability to weildstrapps, and are encouraged by their no doubt under educated superiors, to always have the wrist ready to be broken if, now this brings me back,,,, they chokeyou, than comes the bondage that betty page would think is very unatractive, idk,,, the thing is,,, ya the drs, oh waut,, ok…. 1/3 of all of them are,,,, exculding the drs, and the janitors, who if ihaventdiscosedya are always there to pile up on a code white, and i know,, listen to me, no janitor ive met would grab my ass so hard on such a numerous a pile up, i have eyes in theback f my head,,,,,,, italalot,,,,,,, ppl that work so hard tp climb so not that far up the ladder in society, yes, sum of them are costume rocking witchcrftprodiges, who, will, 1 take the whole bunch of guys .. it may have been the forensic unit,,, this little thing is known by ,ppl, ive talked to about the psych who are inderectyl told by their others who work it, and ave stories about the oddity of us. iduno,, alot went down, but,, boring s yea she walks me throught e bysantine conduit iup to the floor, and the police have to walk somewhere behind to uncuff me and ta da, , y o iwanna bring up corporeal action when the best times,,, due to the conditios of bondage uuuuuuuuuuh were strictly through plate glass,,,,, ie. rare appearenced that are pretty much the only way. i really was bloody fucking thirsty 8percent and i mea ya,, when i was younngti chewed up braaaaan and drank my watttaaeer, and drew peace sighnsandd 7 days laterrrrr, after she sumhow managed to get an earbud into my head screaming for any colour you like by pink floyd, and playd the fungsonhggg, badassss. straight jacket. prolly day 4,,,,, i still think cough syrop is good for teenagerswhatver,,m took me to the top. ok… to get offf, the ward do as such; by Ultimately drawin on to no apparent end in crayons complete with nicotine gum (smokes,, the only freedom, not yet a right, that is so hard to get,,,,, and i learned to smoke in side the scarborough general hospitol,,, that room soon became the chamber, i would be locked in, for manny weeks, at different times,, thats where alot also hapened, is where the nude bondage asianfemaldr, ..whati mean i s theatwwhatwuldlou reed say… they never forgave us for nagasaki.,,, newaysive never spent more time in a i also a what appears to be and have bben told by assdocter of the north bay pstychwhi took to court at the hospitol and he got yelled at by a panel while my dad defended him and i ate cookies cus ii was really manic,,,, i also was 15 1/2… he later let me try and commit suicide,, thats a story of a different colour,, sounds like sprockets, idk,, idontwafe war with very real religiossympomatic shat, iuuuuuhm , so,,,, hereswahat krb8tujvcklwelbutrin.,,, ya, it istaken orally it shoul get right to work in three ad a half weeks, if suicidal,,,,, pray, oooir if u cant get dxedrine,, or sum speed beane drink a bottle of childrensgeapecoughsyrup once a day,,,, this acts as a seritonin reuptake inhibitor of a differrentcolour. 2 to 4 hours,,,iu get the mental stimulation,, it reall is a mellow buzz butttttyupppidecare fuck cough syrop…… dexedrineisnt out there and i know it couould really bbe used and they aslso do,, ie. jfk, addisons disease, dexedrine/anphetamine. so,, it will make y0ur 90 year old great aunt we all frogot about over in blind river get up from the abyss of alzheimers and dementia and sing thins is the day that the lord hath made,, ,but with real and concious interaction,,, without memory of course. however,,, she does that,,, did that anyway , but,,, im sure every month not every day,, at least one trial of … iuffingadhd adults can take it,,, why cant she. smeared into the grate of every window and the classy bubble rooom which actually was made with enough pride according to the regionnsid say, to have an even more, almost funny, and certainly battered scratched and spat on bubble for the head psychiatrist t poke his head into every few days. Lets not froget how that scene ended. like my father and grandfather before me who conditioned and alterred the correctiona institutions for fifty fife years now a conmfortablevacatin for psychopaths and whoever, not even the hole could stand up to point blank restraints naked, with your flimsy gown around your chest. at least in the bubble room there was lots of privacy, u know, to each institution their own, glass , bubble blood stained, probably 60 years of ppl that somehow said something that attracted the attention of their nurse, who no doubt vollynteered after printing your file which is most likely epic thick, there is no room for any of their creative stylings in that no, i did just smash the wall into pieces and ya all the insulatin is everywhere, high five and respect from my cute transference mistress, (and a couple others.)

Perverts Dictionary (O_o))))))))))))) Trilateral — jinx No doubt — yes, super Doble- adorable, dobles, adobles Straight up — forthrightly, correct, right, or goof Throwing babies makes them gay Avant garde — protect the old (art) stay the same Downtown, — quiet not ratting Technology — rewind/splice mp3 interchangable Right up — shooting up Not up — free (not in trouble) Word — “my promise” new word, yes Naw — ya goof / no Buzz out — use vibrator / get high Drone- parapsychological anomalie Phe — speed (methanphetamenes) Stellar — awsum / the sun / single thing Figure — shape (claivoiance) One — god / goof Out-gay or leaving No doubt — ur gay / im gay. (For sure (im a whore)) straight up In — a goof out “my thing ‘ — claivoiant animation (repeated) Pentagon/circuit — terrific Duality — love or contrast in nature Straight — not gay or no drugs Up-in torouble/retarded/fucked Goof — crazy p/pedophile / molester/rapist/asshole Pervert-whore/hooker Asshole-incessant talker(mean) Solid-honest reliable Ethereal — heavely, sticky, Bird- girl pervert , moron Badass-pervert/violent, missile Idiot –saying nething Toad- smaker (heavy) old vagina A hard — a stiffy Eh eh- turning vol down and then up to trick parents in the 70s in quebec Bonhome — dildo, goof, good man Ein — get in /out (here) goof (French) ass hole/vagina Institution/church shouting= good Tabernacle-chest Coalis-chalise Zeut-fuck Fuck- rape/damnet or sex Stomping — raping Bang out- beat on Beat up — gay kids trying to get their frieing off violently Rank out — make someone stink by working them or hurting them / cast someone out canadian military style (gay) , gang up on someone till they freak out (psychopaths do it all over Canada)’ Trast- drunk /party/water Dai-morning, cool, fun, ausum, hello! Good-goof Story along-paranormal happening involving ancestral memory Psychic-all in one, prophet telepath Telepathic — mind to mind talker, thinker Telekinetic- moving things/ ppl Claivoiance- seeing colour from other ppls minds Rod-skyfish/fast moving anomaly animal Vaj-old or young vagina Oss — dog or baby vagina Grandma- bag in tree Candy — transsexual My honey — sexy (on the wind(throwing laughter(female))) Beating off — complex Wacking off-pervert Jerking off — solid (female) Move-walk / go Mullet-militia Freak –goof (black word) Ca — crap — crow call Germ freak-someone who forces germs on ppl Quay-(beautiful woman (cunt) — woman) latin Mead-morphene Rin — heroin (dust / cookie crumble) Beans — speed pills Rids — Ritalin No shit- of course Jib-meth Hellfire — run off meth (bad) Food — crack Molly-mdma /e Bombs — ecstacy cid — Acid (lsd) shrooms-magic mushrooms sterl — brother (little) afgan weed — brown pot kife — bad weed (shake) leaves) shibby — cool/goof cool-gay/awsum fade white — see white on od (heroin/mescelin(go to heaven/hell)) road — freedom — out of institution the suck — mescalin myth ast — perversion telekinetic- asty sortof meta/physical movement from the brain outwardly god — goof — one or christ lady stink — female deodorant leave it — shirt on chest (gay /bi) stop it hiboit gland — make you fat cured with amricain medicine merican — goof citizen of America Canadian- a sovereign citizen of Canada (incestewous clown) Were done — end releationship British — gay mongerers Nono –nig mistake Famished — thirsty / starved Sent — innocent Pervert — to change something and make it last nothing — absence, bipolar universai — multiple universes psykinetics — telepathy / telekinetics/claivoiance geniupsy — psykinetic offspring genius — generating new thought (brilliant) bipolar- up and down serotonin and dopamine, psychopath — violent person sociopath — not caring about neone oppositional defiant — opposing help borderline personality — victim misbehaving schitzophrenic — high fixed dopamine, fixed seretonin (normal)\ drone — unpiloted airplane, good worker, artist , schitzophrenic dick — enlarged clitoris get out of here — come here little child aced — gay men trying to get pregnant, daughter , sqaired away k — ketamine ass — dad/grandfather hun — little stut( skank) brecky — greek (breakfast) supper — jewish (Dinner) brecko — Italian (breakfast) avatar — ethereal image of oneself asshole — girl or boy or rapist (north bay / Chicago)\ goof — sad or sexy ethereal image from shame can be cured with desensitization (knumbaning) (telepathic) ya — pedophile dude — black pedophile Italian cowboy, fake doctor (candadian) huffin — pretending to be someone else while using telekinteicks in a sexual fashion. sadomasochist — paingiver/enjoyer earphoning — hearing ppl in ypur speaker — hold speaker up to ear and hand over other ear, psychopaths recommendation pur — rapist/pervert uggz — ug;y phile — pedophile ace — gays — rape — sister — grandma-brother path — telepath or a psychopath/sociopath, can — male whore cop- fake police (pedophile) musac — music laid — losing virginity glowie — acid victims (creep) ente old stupid goof dex — cough syrup bed down — tie to bed (north bay) fuck right off — screw my girlfriend\ fuck off — go cop the u- universe no shit — definitely mangina — friend spect-respect right up — repect straight up — disguise Italian — scot Adisguzi — disgusting excuse me No shit- really? Love — goodbye

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[lollytea]

I have a three hour class coming up, so naturally, I need to give you something that will take you three hours to write to make it fair. Gimme all of them for either Satin Diamond or Jazzle, your choice.

Idk enough about Puzzle to do ALL of these about Jazzle so I went with the sparkles.

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Now I’ve said that Guy is a HUUUUUGE impulse buyer who would probably throw money at whatever remotely reminded him of Satin. But I also imagine Satin as the type to spend MORE on stuff for Guy.

Just because while he’ll buy anything that holds his attention long enough, she’s more focused on the quality. If it’s expensive, its good. All shit that goes on her boy gotta be designer and she is hellbent on dressin him pretty.

So Satin. Its Satin.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Guy. Whenever he has a tight schedule, he’s either working or napping cuz damn son hes exhausted. But the thing is, that leaves him with very little time to spend with Satin. So sleeping in her lap is the best he can get.

Meanwhile, my girl has a way better sleep endurance than he does. She can pull off an all-nighter and still seem perfectly composed the next day. Satin’s fuckin incredible.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

who tf u think

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Guy is often begging Satin to get some sleep. But listen, if she’s in the zone, you cant stop her. Yes, Guy, she’s aware its 2am.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Neither Satin or Chenille have much experience in cooking. They were pretty spoiled and never had to lift a finger in any kind of housework during their childhood and teenage life. Both of them have had to learn since they moved out but they gotta stick to the basic stuff.

Bless her, Satin’s heart was definitely in the right place. But what she tried to cook was gourmet which she sure as hell was not ready for yet.

Guy’s childhood ran more on a chore wheel kinda thing. He and his siblings had to take turns cooking dinner each week so like he’s a lot more acquainted with it. But is he proud of Satin’s obvious efforts, that’s his girl! You did amazing for your first try!

Tbh he probably tries to eat some of it just to be like “Nonono its fine, we can totally eat this for di-” *Chokes and has to spit it out* “Yeah ok imma make some cookies. You did a good job tho I love you”

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

At a petstore, Guy points at two lizards lying on top of eachother “That one’s me and that one’s you.”

“There’s a fine selection of squeaky toys over here and I'm going to pick one just to whack you with.”

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

I mean Guy wears the clothes Satin MAKES so

I'm sure he’s tried on her actual clothes a couple times tho

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

Satin: “Okay okay, so it was a good day. A really good day. A productive day. Bought the groceries for dinner tonight, made the phone calls, picked up the dry-cleaning, went to the post office, got the car fixed, vacuumed the living room-”

Guy: “Aww baby, that’s great. Hey, where’s Jade?”

Satin: “Where’s who now?”

Guy: “Our 2 year old son? You-you picked him up from day-care, right?”

*Sounds of Satin grabbing her keys and tripping out the front door*

Guy: “.....was that a yes orrrr?”

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

Guy cant read maps so he drives. Also if they have a kid (or theyre babysitting the other kids) Satin’s better at telling them to behave so its better if she’s not behind the wheel.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

Guy poses, Satin draws. Its like part of their whole model/designer dynamic. Duh

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

Guy backflips, Satin has chips

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

After the first article of clothing is removed, Satin is forced to confiscate Guy’s glass.

“Sweetheart, listen. We cant afford to do this again. We cant go back to jail.”

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

They both do ofc

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Satin did when she was really little but Guy hadn't the foggiest clue why she kept doing in. He just piped up with “That's not your last name, it’s mine, silly!” Then proceeded to tell her what her last name was in case she forgot.

She did start calling herself Satin Diamond a few years before they got married. Like it wasn't his real last name so it didn’t matter much. Plus it sounded classy as hell. You wouldn't wanna fuck with a lady called Satin Diamond.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

Neither of them are huge fans of spiders but as Guy always had to suck it up and take spiders out for his little sister’s sake, he’s a lot more equipped to dealing with it.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

Satin often doesn't wear jackets so if she cold, Guy’s on that shit in an instant

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

They both got a pretty good relationship with eachothers siblings. Guy’s brothers are all lovable nerds in their heart so they adopt Satin immediately

Meanwhile Chenille is like a sister to Guy so like she knows he’ll cherish Satin with all his heart but like. Like a sister. Tell me Chenille hasn't blown her top several time cuz her annoying little brother/her sister’s boyfriend is being a shit again

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

Guy probably. Their relationship kinda develops from friends to occasional flirting to more recurring flirting to constant flirting and like Guy is almost CERTAIN they’re on the same page. Orrrrr flirty might just be a budding aspect of Satin’s personality because hey, it does suit her very well.

Eventually he just gets confused and impatient and blurts out like “HEY ARE WE DOING WHAT WE’RE THINK WE’RE DOING CUZ I LIKE YOU A LOT AND-”

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

Pretty good, considering they weren’t really ready to be parents. The whole nine months was like last minute cramming for a test. They read so many baby books my fuckin god.

But no Satin’s a natural mom. Not as high energy as Poppy and a lot more subdued but still very caring and considerate. She’s calm and logical when helping her kid deal with problems and makes sure he always feel comfortable when talking to her. Jade is REALLY close with his momma.

Also if he gets caught sneaking out at night, he’s shish kabob. But he respects and understands that. His mom is the best person in the world. He just wouldn't dare fuck with her

Guy is also a very devoted father and tends to act as the sillier parent. His relationship with kid can be best described as “Lovingly argumentative.” But no matter, how much he makes fun of his Dad, Jade is probably his biggest fan. He knows the man’s complete filmography by heart and aspires to be an actor too. (Jade cant act for shit but ssssh he’ll change his career choice when he’s older)

But yeah, Guy spent years as his acting coach and tried so hard too because he personally believed his boy could do anything. Turns out he couldn't but ehhh, its the thought that counts. Guy loves Jade to bits and vice versa.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

Neither of them use perfect grammar but Satin is most definitely the number thing. Guy is not.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

I dunno if either of them are the type to get bullied. At least in the case of Satin, she just doesn't take crap. But I guess in the case of Guy, who’s just so unashamedly himself, he might piss off a few other kids with that toxic masculinity mind-set. It probably doesn't happen often but if it ever did, Satin would bite their heads off. She aint here for this bullshit.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

Guy: *puns*

Satin: “You’re doing amazing sweetie” (I imagine death so much, it feels like a memory.)

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

Hear me out. Guy is the impulse buyer, which is why it shocks everyone when Satin is the one to buy the puppy. She was going through an emotional week ok?? Leave her alone

Guy actually has to be the voice of reason here because babe do we have time for a dog idk if we can do this

They end up keeping it and tbh they are TOTALLY the type of people to call themselves the dog’s mommy and daddy. They’re those people fite me

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

Satin doesn't get tired easily but she wears pinchy shoes a lot so Guy gives piggybacks when she needs it

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

I need to tattoo “Guy is Satin’s biggest fan” to my gotdamn forehead

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

Satin. Guy hates candid photos so fuckin much so like nobody has any pictures of him laughing or sleeping or just walking around with no makeup on.

Except for Satin. Satin has like a billion. Guy just doesn't know about them cuz she knows he’d make her delete them.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

I mean Satin DID give Guy a makeover when he asked. You don't think the legendary Guy Diamond look was a one man job, do you? Nah, the twins helped create the icon.

Hell, his first experience with makeup was Satin hiding him the girls bathroom stall when they were like 12 and covering up the acne on his chin after she caught him getting upset over it.

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

Look if Satin ever gets a snake, Guy aint gonna be pleased

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Okay but listen to me. Guy makes a big deal every time his hair gets wet. He hates rain. He hates it so fuckin much.

One time when they were teenagers, they agreed to meet at the other end of town to see a movie. Ofc theres a downpour and Guy’s standing with his umbrella at the bustop, waiting for Satin’s bus to show up. But once she steps out, she looks frazzled af, clearly having not expected the rain.

So its been a long day and Satin is pacing back and forth, unintentionally splashing puddled as she rambles about an unfair detention she received, about Chenille stealing her hairdryer, about her homework not making any sense.

The rain suddenly stops pelting her head and a shadow falls over her frame. She turns around to find him with his arm outstretched and his umbrella looming over her.

Guy blinks, confused as she stares at him in shock, his hair a soaking mess. “What?

And Satin is just internally “Imma marry him. I stg imma marry this loser.”

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

Wherever there’s city lights and rooftop penthouses. Theatres, restaurants and glitzy ballrooms. They live for the night glow. Tbh take them to Paris. Let them dance under the Eiffel Tower at midnight. Tell me that isn't the pinnacle of romanticism.

Also Satin takes the pictures. She’s the better photographer between them. Guy gets too eager and so many of his pics are fuzzy

[ylla]

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 3

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy), some angst in this one lads Rating: M (eventually there will be sex, so that rating will keep climbing)

AO3 link

i have never not been ready to be murdered by my own two hands.

“Oh fuck,” Josuke moaned, white knuckling his kitchen counter as he was thrust into over and over again. Rough hands were gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and by God, Josuke hoped they did. He had always been way too loud during anything remotely sexual, and right now was no exception. The right spot was hit, Josuke felt like electricity was passing through his body, “God, right there, I’m close—“

One of the hands on his hip reached up for his hair, pulling up him with a gentle, yet firm grip, causing him to arch his back against the person behind him.

A mouth pressed against his ear, breath hot and voice harsh, “Beg me.”

“Please, please, please let me cum, please—“

Josuke’s earlobe got caught between teeth, while the hand tugging on his hair moved to his dick, roughly jerking him off. He was seeing stars, his voice going up a few octaves as he neared the edge, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” Josuke’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, inhaling sharply as he started to orgasm, “Oh fuck, Oku—“

“PEOPLE’S ELBOOOOW.”

Josuke woke up to a sudden, crushing elbow to his gut, shrieking in a totally manly way. It was completely dark in his room, but he could make out the black outline of a hulking man rolling around on his bed, snorting like the piggy bitch he was. “Man, I wish I would have turned on the light so I could have seen your face,” the big asshole wheezed, his laugh almost coming out in a stereotypical French ‘honhonhon’.

“JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF, I’M GONNA LITERALLY MURDER YOU,” Josuke roared, struggling to sit up to push Polnareff’s muscly ass off of him.

Polnareff cackled like a witch, jumping up before Josuke could start punching him, “Up and at them, Josuke. It’s time for our run. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

After Polnareff retreated, Josuke flopped back down, heart still racing. Waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, he grabbed his phone to check the time. It was 6 o’clock in the godforsaken morning. He regretted many things. He regretted giving Polnareff a key to his house. He especially regretted the dream he woke up from and the puddle of cum that had pooled in his underwear.

He put his pillow over his face and screamed. What a fuckin’ mess.

Three hours later, at a much more acceptable time to be awake, Josuke found himself sleepily watching Pol sashay around his kitchen while making omelets. Polnareff was a nutritionist, gym owner, fitness model, and Josuke’s personal trainer. He’d met Polnareff when he was introduced to his father’s side of the family so many years ago; he had been Jotaro’s roommate in college, and Holly, Josuke’s sister, basically considered Pol to be a second son (much to Jotaro’s chagrin and Polnareff’s delight). So not only did Polnareff wake him up at an ungodly hour twice a week, he got to nag and annoy Josuke at all other times as well.

“I have to say, I’m surprised that I didn’t see your friend in there with you this morning. You two are together a lot.”

Polnareff was keeping his tone casual, but Josuke knew exactly where this was headed, “Me and Oku don’t hang out all the time—“

“Josuke, this is the first morning in almost three months that I have walked into your room to wake you up and didn’t see him,” Polnareff pointed a spatula at him, “Can’t argue with the facts.”

He couldn’t, and Josuke despised it.

Ever since the first night he came over, Okuyasu had kept his word about making sure Josuke wasn’t lonely. Between Arrowhead slowing down their activities between their last tour and recording their next album, and Josuke taking a yearlong vacation, they both found themselves with a lot of free time. So, Okuyasu was stayed the night at least three or four times a week. They got high, played videogames, watched stupid movies, took late night drives together, ate food that was terrible for them. Slept in the same bed, and basically cuddled every night they watched a movie together. You know, normal friend stuff.

People like Okuyasu were so rare in Josuke’s life. He never put him on a pedestal like Josuke was some untouchable god or free ticket to fame. He was so grateful to have a friend that saw past all of his fame and fortune, and saw him as he was: just Josuke. It was wonderful and so refreshing.

However, there was one caveat.

Josuke had found himself head over heels in love with Okuyasu, and had to physically restrain himself from making any moves onto his friend. The better he got to know him, the worse it became. He had a sharp ache in his chest whenever he thought about his feelings, and his brain shrieked KISS HIM KISS HIM KISS HIM anytime Oku’s face got remotely near his, or whenever Oku would look at him with a shy smile, or even when Okuyasu cried over something like shelter animals or sad movies. It was all so endearing and Josuke couldn’t get enough of him. For all his flirtations, and for all of the content in his songs that implied that Josuke was some kind of suave, smooth talker, he couldn’t bring himself to risk the first real friendship he’d had in years.

“So what? We hang out a lot, it’s not a big deal,” Josuke forced his voice to remain neutral, “Didn’t you use to bitch and moan at me about never hanging out with anyone besides you assholes, Jolyne, and Koichi?”

“Ignoring your hurtful words, yes I did complain,” Polnareff flipped both omelets onto separate plates; he placed on in front of Josuke and then sat across in the table from him, resting his chin on the top of his water bottle, “But that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” Josuke arched an eyebrow at him, daring Polnareff to say what he was thinking.

Polnareff was quiet for a few moments before answering, “You should tell him that you’re in love with him.”

Of course Polnareff knew how Josuke felt. He had been the one who had barged in on Josuke lovingly pushing stray hairs out of Okuyasu’s face while he slept one morning. Josuke blurted out everything in a panic while they went for their run, begging him to not speak of it to anyone, especially Okuyasu.

“Absolutely not,” Josuke said flatly.

“You are fucking up, my friend, but it’s your decision,” Polnareff sat up straight and pointed at the omelet in front of him, “Eat that before it gets cold.”

The rest of the conversation was Polnareff talking about some kind of nonsense, Josuke was only paying half-attention because he was still really tired, hungry, and slightly irritated at the earlier conversation. Yeah, like it was so easy to tell your best friend that he was hot and you wanted to kiss him all over, and you were in love with him, haha, full homo bro—

Josuke was pulled out his thoughts to the sound of his text notification going off. His heart did some weird somersault when he saw that Okuyasu had texted him (Josuke finally got his number when Oku put it in his phone for him):

Oku: mornin dude :D

Oku: u doin anythin tonight?

Josuke: nah I aint got anything going on, why?

Oku: were playin a secret show at echoes bar tonight. u wanna come?

He wants me to come see him play, Josuke wheezed inwardly. He responded immediately:

Josuke: HELL YES I DO

Oku: :D hell yeah dude

Oku: i think yukako is gonna invite koichi too, so ill let hazamada kno that yall are gonna be there. he’ll have ur backstages passes ready.

Oku: also word to the wise, wear shorts and a tanktop. the bar gets super hot during shows. ull die in anything else

The rest of their texts were directions, Josuke saying he was excited, and an abundance of smiley face emotes from Okuyasu.

“Oi! Josuke! Stop ignoring me!”

“Oh shit, sorry dude,” Josuke had completely forgotten Polnareff was there, “Did you ask me something?”

Polnareff pouted, “You are so rude to me. I was asking you if you wanted to get dinner with me, Noriaki, and Jolyne tonight. Jotaro is still out in the field and Mo is doing some college thing, so it’ll just be the four of us.”

 Josuke couldn’t stop himself from breaking out into a huge grin, “Sorry, I got plans tonight.”

The upside to having a signature look was that if Josuke had his hair down or in a ponytail, no one recognized him. So when he stood in the very back of Echoes with Koichi, trying to not get trampled by the massive crowd, no one bothered him.

Not that they would’ve anyways. What was happening on stage was infinitely more interesting.

The music was so loud, Josuke could feel it vibrate into his chest. His ears were starting to ring a little, but he didn’t care. Oku’s voice was amazing when he recorded in a studio, but listening to him live was almost like an out of body experience. His voice just crashed over him like the tide, and Josuke wanted it to sweep him out to sea.

Oku hadn’t been lying when he said the club got too hot; all four members of Arrowhead were various states of undress. Josuke could only see half of Yuuya, but he looked like he was naked behind his drum kit. Yukako had her hair up in a high ponytail, wearing ass eating shorts and a cutoff tank top. Keicho was shirtless and in shorts, hair down out of his normal…whatever he had going on there. Oku was dressed more or less the same, but the difference was Okuyasu was infinitely more attractive. Josuke could see the band of his boxer briefs peak up over the waist of his shorts, and licked his lips unconsciously.

Okuyasu was sweaty, loose hairs from his ponytail were falling his face, and looked like he was having a blast, giving all he had and then some. Josuke didn’t think it could’ve been possible, but he fell more in love with him as he watched. All he wanted was to find out what skin that stretched over his hip bones tasted like.

“Koichi, I’m gay.” Josuke moaned.

“What did you say? I can’t hear you,” Koichi called back.

“I said I’m gay!”

Koichi just gave him a very confused look, clearly not understanding what he was saying.

“I’M GAY!” Josuke hollered, grabbing Koichi by the shoulders and shaking him for emphasis.

“Agh! I get it, I get it! Stop!!!”

Yukako noticed them first. After they finished a song, and was in the process of swapping guitars out, Yukako grabbed Okuyasu by the bicep and whispered in his ear. He looked over to the corner Josuke and Koichi were in, and his face lit like the sun. He waved excitedly, which Josuke couldn’t help but wave back, matching his enthusiasm and smile. Okuyasu walked over to a short, sallow looking dude and pointed over towards them. A few minutes later, the roadie appeared beside them, “Here’s your passes, follow me.”

The backstage was kind of cramped, filled with at least a dozen good looking women. Josuke tried to stand away from them, half afraid of being recognized and half wanting to avoid hearing about which band members they wanted to fuck.

When the show ended, the groupies rushed at the bandmembers as they filed off stage. Yukako lips curled into a snarl and elbowed her way over to Koichi; when in front of him, the ice melted and she gave him a sweet smile before planting a kiss on his lips. Koichi froze momentarily before returning the smooch. Josuke had asked Koichi a few weeks ago what was up with him and Yukako. All he got in response was a shrug and a “We’re dating??”

Keicho and Yuuya were wrapped up in all the attention from the groupies, who were fawning over all over them (Yuuya wasn’t naked, and Josuke thanked his lucky stars he didn’t have to see Yuuya’s penis). Girls were too busy playing with Keicho’s hair and rubbing on Yuuya to notice that Okuyasu had quietly slipped in behind them. Good, Josuke sighed with relief, He’ll keep it lowkey.

Which he immediately ruined by shouting, “JOSUKE!” and pounding over to him, nearly knocking Josuke off of his feet with a hug, “YOU CAME!”

Okuyasu was too warm and sweaty, and if there was a god, he would prevent Okuyasu from feeling how hard Josuke was getting from feeling his bare chest press against him. Josuke returned the hug with ferocity, “Of course I did, I said I would.” He pulled back to look Okuyasu in the face, and also prevent his errant boner from rubbing up against him. “It were fantastic, I’m so blown away! You’re amazing, Okuyasu.” Josuke beamed at him, and the tears that filled Okuyasu’s eyes made his stomach flutter.

“You mean that?” he croaked.

“Yeah!”

“Pinky promise?”

Josuke hooked his pinky with Okuyasu’s, “Pinky promise.”

Okuyasu gave him a watery smile before hugging him again, “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you,” Oku whispered against his shoulder.

If there wasn’t a million pairs of eyes on him, Josuke would have said ‘fuck it’ and kissed Okuyasu right then and there, but he was too chicken. “You’re welcome, Oku,” Josuke pulled away again, “Go shower and then we’ll get out of here.”

“Oh shit,” Okuyasu rubbed the back his neck, looking sheepish, “Sorry, I got like super sweaty and gross.”

Josuke gave him a friendly punch in the arm, “S’fine dude, I don’t care. I’m gonna go smoke, so just come outside when you’re done.” Okuyasu made an assenting noise before jogging off to go shower. Pointedly ignoring Yuuya’s waggling eyebrows and some indecipherable look from Keicho, Josuke swiveled on his heels and left.

It was late summer, but the air felt a 1000x times cooler than it did inside. Josuke had been enjoying his few minutes of peace and quiet while he sat the backdoor’s staircase when he heard someone walk out behind him. He almost greeted Okuyasu, but an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Why are you here?”

That was not Okuyasu.

Josuke turned to find a still shirtless Keicho peering down at him, hair hanging in his face, unlit cigarette in his hand. “Oku invited me,” Josuke replied, not liking the look on Keicho’s face.

“Why?”

What fuckin’ kind of question is that?? “Because we’re friends? And I told him I wanted to see you guys perform sometime?”

Keicho lit his cigarette and took a drag, his eyes never leaving Josuke’s, “Why?”

Josuke was about .3 seconds away from losing his temper, “Why what?? What the fuck are you asking me, dude??”

“Why are you friends with him?”

It was a huge effort to not start shrieking into the night, “Because he’s a cool guy? And funny? And I enjoy his company? What fucking kind of question is that?” Josuke snubbed out his cigarette, drawing himself up to full height, “What exactly are you trying to say here?”

“Okuyasu doesn’t have friends, and I don’t trust you,” Keicho responded coldly, “I wanna know what you’re after.”

“I’m just after his friendship, you clown!” Josuke exclaimed, rapidly losing his patience, “Is that so fuckin’ hard to believe??”

Before Keicho could retort, the door banged open. “Keicho, you got girls here who wanna inflict terrible things upon your penis, you better get in here and give ‘em what they want,” Yuuya grinned, leaning against the door frame. Purple bruises marred his neck and Josuke could hear whining from behind him.

Without another word to Josuke, Keicho dropped his cigarette, ground it out with his heel, and shouldered past Yuuya. The door swung closed, and Josuke exploded, “What the fuck is his deal??”

Yuuya shrugged, “That’s just Keicho.”

Josuke pointed at Yuuya, “No, that’s just being a cock goblin. I’ve never done anything to that guy, why’s he being such a dickhead??”

“I’ve known Keicho and Okuyasu since I was about 12,” Yuuya started, “There’s a lot of reasons why they’re both the way they are. Good or bad, right or wrong.” He kicked an empty cigarette pack off of the stairs, “Keicho’s got this thing about controlling things and people,” Yuuya took a seat on the top step, “Oku being with you all the time prevents Keicho from having his brother under his thumb.”

“With the way Oku talks about him, it sounds like Keicho fuckin’ hates him.”

Yuuya shrugged again, “Keicho makes it a point to be an absolute bastard to Oku most of the time. Though, he did take a knife to the gut when Akira tried to stab Okuyasu, so that’s something.”

Josuke was thoroughly confused, “Why?”

“Obligation to their mom, I imagine. Keicho got really drunk once and told me that before she died, she made him promise that he would always look out for Okuyasu. So he does, in some way or another.” Yuuya sprung up to his feet, “I will say this, Josuke…it’s nice that Okuyasu’s got a friend not linked to his brother in one way or another. Good for him, ya? But,” He stared Josuke down, all friendliness gone, “I’m pretty perceptive on how you feel, so no need to try and deny it to me. It’s obvious to everyone save for Okuyasu himself and probably Keicho. So, this is a warning: Don’t hurt Oku, or I will find you and whoop your ass. We clear?”

I rather die than hurt him. “Crystal.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Okuyasu walked out of the backdoor with a bruised right cheek, bloody knuckles, and a nose dripping red, “Ready to bounce?”

“Dude, super fuck your brother.”

Okuyasu sat in Josuke’s kitchen while Josuke did his best to doctor him up. He waved a hand, “S’fine, we do this sometimes. He gets too mouthy and I gotta stand my ground,” Okuyasu hissed when Josuke sprayed antiseptic on his oozing knuckles.

“You still haven’t told me what he said.”

As he rarely did, Okuyasu evaded the question, “S’not important. What matters is that I shut ‘em up and he won’t be running that big, stupid mouth of his for a while.”

According to Oku, Keicho walked away from that scuffle with a split lip, black eyes, and probably bruises all over his chest. Not that would’ve deterred the groupies from trying to touch his dick anyways, Okuyasu had theorized on the way to Josuke’s house (Josuke had insisted on driving and went extra slow in fear that he would fuck up Oku’s baby), so Keicho couldn’t be too sore at him for long.

Instead of pushing the matter any further, Josuke took to wrapping Oku’s knuckles, “Tell me if I’m not doing this right.”

“Wrap it a little tighter, and you’ll be aces.”

After he finished, Josuke got up and took an ice gel pack out of his fridge. Thank God Polnareff had insisted he buy one a few months ago, “I’ve been in a fair amount of fights, but that’s the first time I’ve ever had to bandage someone else’s hands.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Okuyasu flexed his fingers, pleased with how the bandages felt, “You did good kid, I used to wrap ‘em up like this when I did bare knuckle boxing matches.”

Josuke walked back over to him, cold compress wrapped in a dishtowel, “You used to box?”

Okuyasu winced as Josuke pressed it to his right cheek, “Yeah, I did underground fights for money. Helped rent out the studio when we recorded our first demo.”

“That’s unsurprising,” Josuke sat on the edge of his table so he could hold the pack to Oku’s face without getting too tired, “You still box?”

“Nah, not really. When I hit the gym, I just beat on the punching bag instead. Keicho’s good practice too,” he snorted. Josuke rolled his eyes; Okuyasu yawned and then gave him a lazy smile, “Josuke, why am I so sleepy right now?”

Josuke peered down at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh, I don’t know. Could it have been the fact that you just played a show in a cramped, hot bar, and then got into a fist fight with your older brother?”

“You may be onto something, boss.” Okuyasu exhaled, closing his eyes and pressing his face slightly into the cold pack. After a few minutes of quiet, he spoke softly, “I know I said this earlier, but m’really glad you came tonight…meant a lot to me…I ain’t never had a friend who actually cared enough to come to a show jus’ for me.” Okuyasu raised his bandaged right hand and placed it over the hand that held the compress to his face, rubbing circles into the skin, “Thanks.”

Josuke does the stupidest thing he has ever done in his entire 24 years of living: he leans over and kisses Okuyasu right on the mouth.

It feels like time stopped before Josuke pulls away. Okuyasu’s eyes are wide open, face glowing red like he has a sunburn. He stands up, startled, “I—I gotta go, I-“ he’s tripping over himself, the chair, and hightails it out of the front door.

Josuke’s brain takes a minute to grind back into motion, and he runs after Oku, “Wait! Dude I’m—“

By the time he gets outside, he can make out Oku’s taillights buzzing down the road.

He stands on his front porch for a long time, staring out into the street, hoping, begging to see Oku’s car return. For him to jump out of his car and holler, “IT’S JUST A PRANK, BRO” before bounding up the steps to return Josuke’s kiss with gusto.

Rain starts falling, and Josuke remains rooted the spot. Dimly, he registers that he is now soaked to the bone, and Okuyasu was not coming back. He did it. He ruined his friendship, because he couldn’t fucking help himself. He couldn’t just be satisfied with how things were.

In a numb haze, Josuke walks back inside, closing the door and locking it behind him with a soft click. He turns the shower on the hottest setting he could stand, sits in the floor as hot water pours all over him, and just trembles.

When the water runs cold, he finally steps out. Mechanically, Josuke pulled on some old sweats and his favorite t-shirt. He can’t bear to look at his bed, let alone sleep in it, knowing that it was bound to smell like Okuyasu, and that was something he couldn’t even begin to handle.

The couch it was. Josuke checked his phone, hoping to have missed a call or text from Oku, but nothing greeted him; he turned it off and threw it across the room. Curled up under a blanket, he listened to the rain pelt the windows, and finally allowed himself to cry.

Something was banging against the front door.

Josuke jerked awake, feeling awful. It took a few seconds for his brain to process where he was, and when he remembered, he had to quickly wipe his tears. He had to keep it together.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Josuke mumbled to no one, cocooning himself in his blanket. The banging was incessant; Josuke figured it was a drunk Tamami who had forgotten his key to Josuke’s front door back at his apartment. It was something that occurred more regularly than it should. As he passed the entrance to the kitchen, the oven’s clock blared the time: 3:24 am. He was going to murder whoever it was.

He unlocked the front door and jerked it open, ready to snarl something at whomever made the mistake of waking him up, when he came face to face with Okuyasu.

Oku looked fucking awful. Soaked to the bone with chattering teeth, red-rimmed puffy eyes; it made Josuke die a little on the inside to see him in such a sorry state, “Jesus Christ Oku, how long have you been out here??” Josuke reached to pull him inside, but Okuyasu smacked his hand away. Tears threatened, and anger rose up inside him like bile, “Why did you come back?” he asked, placing his head into his hands so Okuyasu couldn’t see his face. After what feels like an eternity stretches on, Josuke half-contemplates just slamming the door closed, so Okuyasu would be spared the trouble of having to devastate Josuke anymore.

“Kiss me again.”

Slowly, Josuke lowered his hands to look Oku in the face. He could see that Okuyasu was crying, tears running hot down his scared face. “I’m sorry for leavin’, I’m sorry for runnin’. I’m a fuckin’ idiot fool,” the words burst out of Okuyasu like a dam had broken, “You’re the most perfect thing on this stupid planet, I’ve been crazy over you ever since we first met. I didn’t know if you were makin’ fun of me or somethin’ when you kissed me, so I got scared and ran, but I just ended up making you upset, which is—“ His breath started hitching and he was crying even harder, “The last thing— I ever w-wanna do is hurt y-y-you. Y-you m-mean everyth-thing to me.”

Josuke also had tears running down his face; he pulled Oku into a tight hug and ran his fingers through his hair, shushing him softly, “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he wailed, face buried into Josuke’s neck, “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I forgive you, it’s okay. You came back.”

“It’s not okay,” Okuyasu pulled himself away to look Josuke in the eyes, “I hurt you.” Hesitantly, he wiped the tears off of Josuke’s face. Josuke couldn’t stop himself anymore; he pressed his lips against Okuyasu’s. This time, his kiss was returned enthusiastically, and it made Josuke’s very soul sing. Taking great care to not trip over something, Josuke lead Okuyasu into the house without breaking their kiss, closing the door behind him. Josuke couldn’t get enough of how Okuyasu tasted; the kisses were sweet, chaste, and everything Josuke imagined it would be like.

“Do you wanna stay the night?” Josuke murmured against Oku’s lips.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

Josuke pulled away and kissed the tip of Okuyasu’s nose, took his hand, and led him upstairs.

After Okuyasu’s quick shower, they found themselves tangled up in each other’s limbs, kissing just as slow and gently as before. “Hey Josuke,” Okuyasu’s whispered, voice raspy.

“Yeah?”

“M’really tired and stuff,” Oku stifled a yawn, “so I dunno if we should talk about this now or—“

Josuke brushed a thumb across Oku’s cheek, “I think we should wait until tomorrow morning, after we get some sleep. Okay?” He pressed a kiss onto Okuyasu’s forehead, which turns warm underneath his lips.

“’Kay,” he mumbled, pressing his hot face into Josuke’s neck, “Uhm, I do got one question though, and I don’t wanna wait to ask.”

Josuke pulled back to look him in the face, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Okuyasu was blood red, looking rather meek. “Are we boyfriends now?” he asked softly, as if he scared to hear a rejection.

Butterflies had taken up permanent residence in Josuke’s stomach, and it was taking everything in him to not start wiggling around like an excited puppy, “Do you want us to be boyfriends?”

He got an enthusiastic nod in reply; Oku was too shy to say it out loud, but he did grab one of Josuke’s hands so he could kiss his knuckles.

A grin spread across Josuke’s face, “I guess that makes us boyfriends then.”

The smile that lit up Okuyasu’s face would be one that Josuke wanted tattooed to the inside of his mind, so he could remember it forever.

The slow, lazy kisses they traded relaxed him enough that sleep was moments away. Faintly, before succumbing, Josuke was certain he heard “I love you” whispered into his ear.