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wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years ago

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Angel (Pt. 4)

Harry Styles x Reader

A/N: This one was inspired by Harry’s song Only Angel. It’s five parts in total. If you like it, be sure to give it a reblog and check out the other parts linked below. Thanks, and enjoy <3

Warnings: Slight jealousy, some making out. Swearing. It’s long. Seriously.

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

Forty-five minutes later, I was all dolled up and in a cab on the way to the house where the after party was being held. Now that the situation with Harry was resolved, I was free to relax and fully enjoy my accomplishment. I had been working toward becoming a Victoria’s Secret Angel since I was eleven years old, and now, eleven years later, I finally was.

Giddy with excitement, I pulled out my phone to text Harry and tell him that I was close. He replied almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for me.

‘Good. I’ll be out back by the pool.’

I nodded to myself and put my phone away since the cab was pulling up to the house. Thanking and paying the cabbie, I stepped out. My stomach filled with nervous excitement, and I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the bustling house.

It was a modern two story with large windows that allowed me to see the party in full swing inside. Music could be heard thumping at the windows, and people could be seen walking around and mingling. I caught sight of Elsa on the second floor, looking out the window at the city, and waved when she saw me. Her face split into a wide smile, to which I smiled back, and she motioned for me to meet her downstairs. Nodding at her enthusiastically, I made my way to the large front door.

The music was louder inside, the deep bass thumping through my heart immediately. I smiled and waved at a few of the girls and other people I knew as my eyes searched for Elsa. It didn’t take me long to find her quickly descending the stairs, eyes searching for me.

“Elsa!” I called when I spotted her.

She squealed and rushed to pull me into a hug, “Y/N, you made it!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm and returned her hug, “Ya, sorry I’m late. I had something I needed to take care of.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling back to look at me, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh ya, it just took a while,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Good, now let’s get you a drink.”

Elsa kept me close to her side for the next hour, insisting on getting some alcohol in me and taking me to see the other girls. Every time I tried to break away, telling her I was supposed to be meeting someone, she protested and demanded that I stayed with her a little longer. Knowing how she could get when she drank and not wanting to upset my best friend out of the girls, I stayed. But time was ticking and I knew Harry had to be wondering where I was, if he was still waiting at all.

Finally Elsa became engrossed in a conversation with some photographer, and I was able to slip away. I knew she wouldn’t miss me so I didn’t feel bad about ditching her, especially since I had Harry waiting for me.

I moved quickly through the crowd in the house, making my way out to the pool. The view caused me to pause in my search for just a moment, insisting that I take in the lights in the trees and the fields in the valley below. Shaking it off before I could get too sucked in, I searched the crowd for my childhood love.

There was a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth set up to one side of the pool. A large crowd was dancing, and I briefly wondered how all these people got invited before moving my attention the the couched and chairs around the pool. Some groups were smaller than others, and there were even some people in the pool, but I couldn’t find Harry anywhere.

Sighing, I moved closer to the dance floor, hoping that he was over there. After a few moments of scanning the crowd, I was about ready to give up when I spotted his soft brown curls.

I realized that the reason I hadn’t been able to see him before was because he was laying down on one of the couches that had its back to me. Now, I saw that his head was on the lap of one of his band members, the woman who had played the drums. In fact he was surrounded by women, models to be precise. I rolled my eyes at how the young women leaned forward and ogled him as he spoke. Harry just basked in the attention, the exact same attention whore he had been since we were younger.

As Harry laughed, pushing himself up and out of his bandmate’s lap, I considered turning around, going back to Elsa, and getting black-out drunk. Harry was the same as he’d always been. He had always loved attention, especially the attention of pretty women, and right now, he had the attention of a lot of pretty women. I honestly didn’t know how I could compete with that, and I was jealous. I was now willing to admit that I was jealous of the attention he gave those women because I still loved him, and because of that, I didn’t want to be sober anymore.

Just as I was about to turn around and go drown myself in a bottle of vodka, Harry caught site of me. His entire face lit up, granting me with a large, genuinely happy smile and a view of his dimples. Looking away only briefly, he made a quick excuse to his group and in turn earned a knowing smile from his bandmate. Then he was pushing himself up and practically bounding over to me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart melting at his enthusiasm. He was like a big puppy, so happy to see his person after a long day away. I realized that I was that person he was so excited to see, but refused to think about what that meant.

“Angel, you finally made it!” Harry called over the music, engulfing me in a giant hug as soon as he reached me.

“Hey, Harry,” I laughed, hugging him back.

I could feel the eyes of the models Harry had just left watching us as we stayed connected a few seconds longer than appropriate, but I didn’t care. Harry’s hugs had always been my favorite. He held you so close and secure, you just couldn’t help but feel safe. His hug brought out all of the feelings I was never good at hiding and didn’t want to deny anymore.

All too soon Harry squeezed me tighter then released me, pulling back to look me over. He whistled lowly and appreciatively at what he saw.

“Damn,” he swore, biting his lip, “you look gorgeous.”

I blushed a little but smiled. Alessandra and Elsa had helped me pick this dress months ago when I was first told I’d be walking as an official Angel, wings and all. I was worried that it was too much, but they both insisted that I looked amazing and this was the perfect place to wear it. Now, seeing Harry’s face, I was glad I did.

The dress was essentially simple, all tight black material clinging to my curves and stopping mid thigh. The stunning part was the neckline. A black collar twisted around my neck then parted at my chest, remaining open in a deep V that stopped just above my belly button. A harness shaped chain of crystals held the two sides closed and wrapped around my shoulders to drape delicately down the open back. At first I was self-conscious about putting so much skin on display, but considering I had just walked a globally broadcasted fashion show in nothing but lingerie and heels, I decided it really didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” I answered, giving Harry the same inspection he gave me, “You look pretty good yourself.”

He took a step back and did a little spin so I could see his outfit fully, making me laugh. He was wearing fitted black jeans and an open black suit jacket. Underneath was a loose fitting sky blue shirt with little white flower-like symbols on it. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned, leaving his smooth skin and a simple silver cross on display. When he moved, the swallows on his chest played peek-a-boo through the opening. His short hair sat as messy chocolate curls, a perfectly styled mess. All in all, he looked every bit the heart throb we both knew he truly was.

“Thanks, angel,” he grinned.

“Of course, but that sure is a lot of skin on display tonight, Mr. Styles,” I teased, trigging on the lapel of his jacket.

Harry laughed, dimples on full display, “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get cold wearing this dress in December?”

I shrugged, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “No. I figured if I got cold it’d be easy enough to find a man willing to lend me his jacket.”

“You’re not wrong there, love,” He said, glancing around, “you’ve already got them all starin’.”

I rolled my eyes internally, knowing full well that this wasn’t even the most revealing outfit here. It was obvious to me that Harry was jealous, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me kind of giddy. Seeing Harry again and resolving our past was bringing up feelings I’d been burying since I saw pictures of him and Taylor Swift for the first time. I had missed him and all the fun we’d had together. I was scared to admit it, but I hoped that the way he was acting, his choice to release that song, meant that he missed me too. Most of all, I hoped he wanted me back too.

Deciding that teasing Harry was fun, and that I wanted to see more of his jealous side, I looked around, “Really, you think so? ‘Cause I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, and I wouldn’t mind finding a cute one.”

“Well I might know of a pretty cute guy who’s been looking for an Angel,” Harry hummed, pulling me against his chest.

“Ya?” I grinned as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

He nodded, “Ya, and right now he’d like to ask that Angel to dance.”

“I don’t know,” I teased, “if it’s who I think it is, this Angel might not want to dance with him.”

“And why the hell not?” Harry asked, pulling away in mock offense.

I grinned at him, disconnecting myself and preparing to run, “Because if I remember correctly, he’s not a very good dancer, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

He growled and lunged after me, but I just laughed and took off running toward the house the best I could in six inch heels. Harry caught me in no time, picking me up from behind and spinning me around. I squealed and giggled, drawing attention to us but not caring. Harry growled again, nipping at my ear as he carried me toward the dance floor. I laughed again, stilling in his arms so he didn’t accidentally drip me as he walked.

“We’ll see about me being a bad dancer,” Harry growled, placing me down on the edge of the dance floor and spinning me around to face him.

I chuckled as I stumbled against him, “Whatever you say Mr. Styles.”

Turning back around, I pressed my back against him front. I took a second to listen to the music, letting the heavy bass take root in my heart, before I started moving against him. The music guided my hips, prompting me to roll and dip with the beats. Harry stood behind me, stunned for a few moments, but quickly recovered and placed his hands on my hips. Matching the movement of his hips to mine, he danced with me. With a smile on my face, I slid my hand up to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck, pressing a kiss there. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of Harry dancing against me.

It had been a long time since I had danced with Harry. The last time was when I was 17, the same night we slept together for the first time. He had rented out the club with his bandmates and thrown a party. I tagged along with my brother, hoping to blow off some steam after a hard week, but never expecting that my crush would tell me he liked me back. I wore some skimpy shorts and a top, typical club attire, and Harry was pissed. He didn’t like all of the male attention I was getting, especially since a lot of it was coming from his bandmates. So when I moved to the dance floor and started dancing, he followed me.

That night Harry was quick to press against me, immediately matching my moves and whispering in my ear that I was asking for trouble. I just turned around and asked him how I could get into trouble with him always around to protect me. After that we danced for hours, and at the end of the night he kissed me and told me he’d been waiting to do that for years. I went home with him for the first time after that, and even knowing everything that happened after, I’d do it again in a heart beat.

“So,” Harry spoke up, pulling at my side to get me to turn around to face him, “still think I’m a bad dancer?”

I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, “No, I never did. I was just teasing you.”

“Of course you were,” he huffed, pulling me even closer, “You always were a tease.”

I shrugged, “Your reactions are funny.”

“Hmmm, you think so, angel?” Harry hummed, leaning down to press his forehead against mine.

The music changed, playing the first slower song I’d heard since arriving. I didn’t recognize it, but it was obvious that Harry did because he smiled down at me. I realized why a few moments later when his voice drifted through the air. Rolling my eyes at his obvious pleasure over them playing his song, I allowed him to sway us to the beat. We danced in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. I laid my head on Harry’s chest and listened to the words of his song. It was soft and sad, but still good. I began to realize that I had been missing out by not listening to his album before.

“What’s the song about?” I asked, propping my chin on Harry’s chest to look up at him.

“This one?” he asked as he looked down at me.

I rolled my eyes but smiled at him, “What other song would I be talking about?”

He shrugged and returned my smile, “I don’t know what goes on in your crazy mind.”

I rolled my eyes again and nudged him, “So what’s it about?”

“Just drifting apart from an old girlfriend,: he answered with a sheepish smile.

I frowned, beginning to get suspicious of his avoidance of the question. Why didn’t he want me to know who it was about?

“Which one?” I asked, pulling back to look at him better.

Harry averted his eyes but answered, “Taylor.”

I made a face, old feelings of jealousy and resentment rising to the surface. I loved Taylor Swift’s music, and I thought she was an amazing person, but thinking about Harry’s relationship with her still upset me. She was, after all, the woman I thought he left me for. She was definitely a sore subject. Clearing my throat, I untangled myself from his arms and moved off the dance floor.

“Angel? Where are you going?” Harry asked, following close behind me.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” I answered as I made my way to the back door, “I’d rather get a drink.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, but I wan’t going to lie to you.”

Turning back over my shoulder, I shot him a small smile, “I know, Harry. It’s ok, I just need a drink.”

“Well, then let me get my angel a drink,” Harry said, taking my hand and moving in front to lead me to the kitchen.

After weaving through the crowd in the interior of the house, we made it to the kitchen. Harry didn’t ask what I wanted, but went ahead and made me a Malibu and Sprite.

“You remembered,” I laughed as I took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“Of course,” he said, leaning on the counter beside me, “It was the only thing that didn’t make you gag.”

I shrugged, no longer ashamed by my intolerance for the taste of alcohol, “It’s not my fault alcohol tastes so bad.”

Harry chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a call of my name from behind us. We turned to find one of my fellow Angels in the doorway, a large smile on her pretty face.

“Hey Romee,” I said, turning my body to face her more fully, “what’s up?”

She held her empty cup as she moved further into the kitchen, “Just needed a refill.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything as I watched her mix a drink. Romee was a relatively new Angel too, having been added just two years before me, but we weren’t close. Ever since I had been announced as the newest Angel she had been cordial, but somewhat cold. I had tried to show her that I wasn’t there to replace her, but it didn’t matter, we would never be friends.

“So,” Romee said after taking a sip of her freshly made drink, “are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I fought the urge to role my eyes, unsurprised by her request. It was no secret that I grew up with Harry, and it would be obvious to anyone who had seen us together tonight that we were close. It was also obvious that Harry was a very handsome, very eligible young man, so of course Romee wanted the chance to properly flirt with him.

“Harry, this is Romee Strijd,” I said, “and Romee, this is Harry Styles.”

Romee smiled as she extended her hand out to Harry, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, love,” Harry answered, giving her a charming smile as he bowed slightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “Wow, what a gentleman. Where have you been all night?”

This time I did roll my eyes, taking a giant swig of my drink as Harry answered, “Oh you know, just looking for an angel.”

Romee smirked, taking a step forward so she could rest her hand on his chest, “Well lucky you, you found one.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest, flooding my body with heat and urging me to grab that bitch by the hair and haul her away from my man. But then Harry shot me a look over her shoulder that calmed me down. His eyes were playful, telling me that he knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

“You’re right,” Harry said, smiling and stepping around her so he could wrap an arm around my shoulder, “and she’s right here.”

A smug smile slipped onto my features as Harry pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and Romee’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I see,” Romee said, her features relaxing into an obviously fake smile, “you’ve stumbled across the newest addition to our ranks.”

“I wouldn’t say stumbled, more like finally found what I’ve been searching for,” Harry answered without taking his eyes off of me.

I smiled up at him and laughed when Romee just huffed and walked away.

Harry made a face at me, “Oops, did I just get you in trouble?”

I shrugged and turned so that I could wrap both hands around his waste, “I don’t care. The look on her face was worth it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to bump his nose against mine, “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

I scrunched my nose up and nodded. It was great to see him chose me over Romee. It was even better to hear that he had been searching for me. He may have thought I’d given up on him, but he hadn’t given up on me.

“So,” I started, my tone teasing, “you’ve been searching for me?”

Harry blushed but didn’t deny it, instead closing to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from its place back behind my ear.

When he didn’t answer, I chose to keep teasing him, “So what is it about me exactly that you’ve missed enough to search for me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Definitely not how much you love teasing me.”

“Hey!” I protested, smacking his chest with my hand, “You like it when I tease. It means I’m giving you attention.”

“I guess that is true,” he conceded with a smile.

“You still haven’t answered.”

Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “Well, let’s see. Your smile…” He paused to trace my lips with his thumb, “your laugh…” This time he tickled my sides, causing me to giggle, “your voice…” He paused again, a smirk tugging at his lips, distracting me from the path his hands were taking, “your ass.”

With that he smacked my ass causing me to screech out his name. He just laughed, letting me slip out of his arms as I pushed away.

“Harry Styles,” I said, hands on my hips and a stern expression on my face, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged, still smirking as he took a step toward me, “Just answering your question, angel.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, “I was giving you the opportunity to be sweet but you ruined it.”

“C’m on angel, you know I’m just a dirty boy at heart,” he said innocently, still advancing toward me, “I can’t help it.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a step back, trying to keep distance between us. I knew from experience that we were treading in dangerous waters, and keeping our distance was probably the best option. Unfortunately for me, the kitchen didn’t agree, and the next time Harry took a step forward, my back made contact with the other counter.

“Shit,” I breathed as Harry crowded into my space, securing his hands on the counter on either side of me.

“You’re mine now,” he growled playfully, face only a hair’s width away from mine.

“Oh ya?” I asked, my eyes glued to his lips, “and what are you going to do with me?”

“‘m gonna kiss you,” he breathed.

He waited only a second to make sure I wasn’t going to protest before closing the distance between us. Our lips crashed together, each of us pouring years of pent up emotions into the kiss. Without missing a beat, I opened my mouth for him as I ran my hands up his chest to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry moaned lowly when I gave a sharp tug, chasing me to grin into the kiss. This only spurred him on more, as he pushed himself against me harder and deepened the kiss.

I moaned when Harry bit my lip, and he responded by grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the counter. My legs parted for him naturally as he slotted himself between them. Now that I could feel his hardening member pressed up against me, I couldn’t stop my hands from wandering down. Panting against Harry’s lips, I stroked his clothed member once before gripping it tightly. He moaned again, this time louder than before, stoking the fire inside me. Matching his moan with a small whimper of my own, my hands scrambled for the button of his pants.

“Angel,” Harry moaned, his voice sounding pained.

“Harry,” I answered back with determination as my fingers finally managed to pop open his button.

“Angel, wait,” he said more forcefully this time, covering my hands with his own and stopping me from unzipping his zipper.”

“Why?” I whine, still trying to accomplish my goal.

Harry chuckled lowly but didn’t move his hands, “Angel, we can’t do this here.”

Frowning, I looked up at him with pouty eyes, “Why not?”

“Y/N,” he raised a brow and took a step back, “I really don’t think you want to risk someone walking in on us.”

With that minuscule distance, the lustful haze lifted from my mind just enough for me to remember where we were. My eyes widened comically and I cursed, causing Harry to laugh.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, buttoning his pants.

“I can’t believe I almost fucked you in the kitchen of a house where there are at least a hundred people partying,” I blinked, still a little dazed from that kiss.

“Me neither,” Harry said, clearly amused as he helped me down from the counter and covered me while I fixed my dress, “I would never expect such deviant behavior from my angel.”

I rolled my eyes and slapped his chest, now fully back to reality, “Shut up! It’s not my fault I got carried away. I haven’t been fucked in five years.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stopped, eyes wide at my admission, “You haven’t had sex in five years?”

I blushed, but nodded, “Not since the last time with you.”

“Why not?”

I blushed even harder, “No one ever came close enough to you to catch my attention.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked with a smug expression, gathering me back into his arms.

I rolled my eyes, “Well that and the fact that I was always too busy to really look.”

“Well it sounds like you, my angel, are in need of a good fucking.”

I scrunched up my nose at his crude way of putting it, but didn’t bother denying it. Instead I said, “Think you could help me out with that?”

Harry grinned, lust lighting up his eyes, “It would be my pleasure.”

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imonthinice · 3 years ago

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 9/?

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: Y/N- Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best Friend’s Name)

I am sorry. lmao.

Half of my links are glitched tf out fuck this shit, touched grass yesterday but that grind don’t fuckin stop babey

Warnings: Angst - Injury, Description of said injury, Mentions of Jason’s past, Swearing, Dark Themes, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Jason clutched his right side as he gasped for a long breath of the cold, rainy air surrounding him. Everything hurt and he could barely move enough to text Dick that he was down. He would hold and add pressure to the stab wound sitting directly on his waist, but he could feel the blood seeping through the gaps in his fingers as he held it. His hands were covered by the blood and he was losing it fast.

He wasn’t going to walk this off by any means, he was going to need Dick to go get him and bring him back to the hospital wing of the Batcave because he couldn’t move and he felt his eyes drooping as he waiting and tried to keep his breathing in check, while Dick was scrambling to go get him.

There would be a few questions he would have to answer to Y/N. Not even just Y/N, to Lian, his Goddaughter, who he was planning on seeing in the morning since Y/N was going to a dance competition, or at least he thought she was.

But in that moment, so many memories flew back into his head, the hopelessness as he sat there for a few seconds, bleeding out after the explosion that Joker had set off on him. And then the minutes in the Lazarus Pit as he drowned himself back to life, the water filling his lungs as he cried and screamed. But no one came.

This time, however, Dick came.

Dick swooped his baby brother up and onto his back and he tried to run to the Batmobile as fast as he could, knowing time was of the essence for saving Jason’s life. Jason had broke off from Dick for a few seconds before this moment, and it was the only thing Dick was worried about. That Dick had said to come back to him, alive.

In the car, Dick put his hands on Jason's gaping wound, trying to press his hands into it as well to slow the bleeding, the Batmobile had the ability to drive itself, and Dick thanked whatever God was watching that it did. Jason was struggling for breath at this moment, and Dick was terrified.

“You’re going to be oaky, Jase. I swear. Please. Don’t die on me, it feels like yesterday that I got you back,” he leaned into Jason’s face, “Not again, please,” Dick begged and begged as he rushed Jason to Alfred, who was waiting to operate on Jason.

--------------------------------------------

Y/N woke up as always, this time, without a text from Jason. She thought nothing of it, thinking he was safe in his house with his loving family. She went to go get coffee to kick start her day, and A/N wasn’t in the kitchen. She, still, thought nothing of it, since A/N’s lover was over the night before and she had to turn up her music to ignore the sounds coming from the other side of the house. She sent Jason a quick text,

Good morning, Jay. I hope you slept well.

And she returned to her room, coffee in hand, to write some quick little stories about what she had placed in her journal. Not many of the ideas in there were able to be built off of, but she still tried her best with every idea she had, to see if it could be something more.

It normally never was, but it was always something she craved. The ideas of writing a book always enticed her, but she never thought she was talented enough to do so.

She heard her roommate’s door open and then the front door as A/N waved off her lover. It was a quiet Saturday morning, and Y/N loved that as she dove further and further into her work, immersing herself in the story of two lovers who were destined to meet after one moved to the hometown of the other to pursue criminal psychology.

She couldn’t get her mind off of Jason. They hadn’t even known each other for a week but she knew he was worth her time. A few hours passed by from when she sent the first text.

---------------------------------------------

Dick held Jason’s hand as he was hooked up to many different machines, he could breathe on his own, but the IV and the blood bags were hard to keep Dick’s eyes off of. If only I had been watching a little closer, he thought.

Jason fumbled in his pain-induced sleep, moaning and groaning as he did so when he opened his eyes to find a worried, sleep-deprived and very rough-looking Dick at his bedside, to which, Dick collapsed on Jason in a hug.

“Thank God,” Dick breathed.

“What... what the fuck.... what the fuck happened?” Jason stuttered, like a blanket of sleep and drugs had limited his mobility and brain function.

“I don’t know, Jase. That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me, but then again, your blood alcohol level was suspicious.”

“I... I didn’t drink... drink that much.”

“No, you didn’t. But you did drink, who was with you?”

“I don’t... know.”

“I think you were roofied so they could get the upper hand on you. You almost died, Jase.”

“Come...c’mere,” Jason managed to say, and when Dick came to him, he moved on of his hands onto Dick’s cheek, “Big... big annoying... big little annoying brother.”

“Shhhhhh, little wing,” Dick comforted his little brother, “You weren’t supposed to grow that much taller than me,” he laughed, “Dickhead,” he laughed again, then sighed, and stepped back from Jason to pace back and forth, he was stressed, “I told Roy-”

“Will.”

“Will, sorry. I told Will that you won’t be able to see Lian today, he asked what happened, he might drop by.”

“He should... shouldn’t have to... see me this... this way,” Jason said, eyes pooling with tears, “No one... should.”

“Don’t know how we’re going to explain this to your little girlfriend.”

“Oh... Man... I like... I like her.”

“I know you do, and that’s an issue when you’re high as a kite in a hospital bed, bleeding out, Jase,” Dick tried to explain, “Especially when she doesn’t know you’re Red Hood, dumbass.”

“Oh,” he said.

“I know, Jase. If it was me and Barbara didn’t know, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he sighed, “Haven’t even met this girl,” he laughed.

“It’s... it’s only been... 5 days,” he stuttered.

“and 3 back-to-back, multiple hour, spanning days, worth of dates. You don’t do that with someone you don’t think should meet your family.”

“You’re... stubborn.”

“And you’re my brother. It doesn’t take blood to exhibit the same traits.”

“The meds... are... are wearing off.”

“Do you need more?”

“Not... yet,” he struggled with his words, “Phone?”

“I mean, yeah I can give you your phone,” Dick said as he went to go unplug and hand Jason his phone, realizing that Y/N had texted Jason he said, “Guess you have someone who wants to know where you are more than Will does.”

“Will cares,” Jason said as he took the phone and read Y/N’s text,

I guess it isn’t morning anymore, huh.

Well that’s on me for texting you at 6 in the morning after I know you’ve been working late.

And I’m going to see my Goddaughter today, so I’ve been sleeping in to preserve energy for her.

Can’t forget that she’s what, 1 year old? Girl must have a lot of energy.

Her name’s Lian, and yeah. She’s a ball of energy.

He said as Lian and her dad, Will, formerly known as Roy, walked into the hospital wing of the Batcave. The secret wasn’t hidden to the little girl yet because she couldn’t remember a lot. But, she sure did recognize her Uncle Jay when she screamed her name.

Will brought his daughter up and put her beside her Uncle, and she cuddled into him, he would hold her back.

“Hey... Will.”

“You look like shit, Jaybird.”

“I feel... feel like shit.”

“You’re also talking slow, bud.”

“Drugs... do that... Will.”

“At least you’re not dead, I have no idea how I’d cope or even explain that to Lian.”

“She... she has your... eyes.”

“She’s growing into my nose too.”

“Your nose... looks like shit... on your face.”

“Okay, dickhead. You’re bedridden but yeah, attack me like you used to, I’ll just pull the plug.”

“Lian... would hate you... you for that,” he groaned as he said it.

“Do you need more drugs? I can tell Dick,” Will asked.

“Yeah... I think-”

“Don’t worry about finishing that, Jaybird. I got you.”

------------------------------------------------------

The wet ground surrounding the house Y/N lived in was a representation of what she considered, the bad things, washing away from her life as she got to know Jason more. She wished they could talk more that day, but she did not want to take away time from him and his Goddaughter. Family matters a lot to Y/N, so a thought like that just seemed selfish for her to think when she knew that little girl needed him.

She didn’t think he got injured or anything from the Office, it was a safer place than the fuckin Wayne Manor hallways. She texted Artemis,

So, you’re Wally’s girlfriend, and Wally is Dick’s best friend? Am I hearing you right?

That’s basically the intertwine we have here, yes.

So once you’re in this family, you’re IN, huh?

Nervous?

Not a chance.

The thrill of flipping off pap hasn’t left you yet?

Does everyone know about that? And yes, it’s still massively fun to do.

Wally says Dick is the only one who doesn’t think its that funny.

Lame.

C’mon now, that’s my best friend, but yeah, that’s pretty fucking lame.

You’re the fun best friend, then. You see the fun in making a fool of the pap.

You know it.

Artemis knew of what happened on patrol between Jason and his unknown attacker. Dick had told Artemis to distract Y/N from wondering why Jason seemed drunk, if he seemed drunk. The extents they went to to hide the fact that they were the vigilantes protecting the city, they didn’t know if she was going to be able to keep the secret.

Jason would talk to her after that message,

That storm last night was terrible.

I wish that we were together when it happened. I hate lightning.

Well, you were in Cali.

Did I not tell you? My competition was cancelled because the entire country is fucked with weather.

Oh. That sucks.

Do you want to spend the night here?

---------------------------------------

Do you want to spend the night here?

Jason stared at that text for a while. He did, he wanted to spend the night with her, but he was in pain, hooked to machines, with obvious wounds and bandages. He couldn’t spend the night with her.

I can’t. I’m in Metropolis with Will and Lian. Can we reschedule?

Of course we can. As long as you make sure we actually get to spend the night together.

He asked Dick in that moment, “How... how long... long til I heal?”

“Depends. You’ll be okay-ish in 5 days, but in 7-10 we have to take out your stitches if you’ve been taking care of them,” he said.

“That... that long? Damn.”

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years ago

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Soulmate Shenanigans

So, lucky me, I found this list of prompts!

Unlucky me, it was for a September event. Surprise, surprise, this is not September

That isn’t going to stop me from doing this, though!

So, without further ado, prompt number one!

Your Soulmate’s name is written on your wrist or palm

Warnings for death mentions galore and drowning, as well as something that isn’t drug use, but if drug use is a triggering topic for you I wouldn’t recommend you read

Not as angsty as these warnings would suggest, but there is still Angst

I don’t know how it got angsty I just work here

World building

The first recorded instance of a palm mark was when Lady Natalia of Venice nearly drowned in a canal

She’d been on her way home from a party alongside her fiance when she “tripped” (the word “tripped” here means “Was pushed by her fiance for financial reasons”) into the river. Her husband-to-be quickly exited the scene, leaving her to be weighed down by her skirts and die.

Angela (forger of swords and mixer of poisons, just happened to be in the neighborhood when she heard a scream and a splash) had other plans. She dove into the water, saving Natalia and cutting her hand in the process.

The two women spent a good deal of time together after that, the scientific Natalia claiming that she only wanted to know why her name was on Angela’s hand.

Some historians claim that the two were platonic soulmates. While this is possible, and platonic soulmates have a long and wonderful history, no one with common sense believes this to be the case

They exchanged love letters that were quite clear that the attraction was a romantic one.

Some historians also claim that there isn’t enough evidence to suggest that they killed the fiance.

Those historians are wrong.

Anyway, in modern days 97% of the population has a palm mark with the name of their soulmate

The tattoo industry has never had so many illegal opportunities

When your soulmate dies, the name doesn’t scar. It doesn’t blister, burn, or black out. All that happens is a thin, impersonal line crossing their name out. Some people don’t notice who they lost for days.

There’s a process to remove palm marks. However, it’s illegal and possibly fatal for the soulmate being removed.

Our Characters

Roman: Roman was confused by the name of his soulmate.

Who names their kid “Janus”?

Am I soulmates with a roman deity? The heck?? SO MANY QUESTIONS AND SO LITTLE ANSWERS

Roman was so excited to have a soulmate. He kept entire journals filled with things he wanted to tell Janus, part diary, part scrapbook, and part love letter. He would doodle hearts around his palm mark.

One night, in April, Roman went to sleep. In the morning, there was a line across his palm.

His soulmate had died, and he hadn’t even seen the line drawn. He broke a little.

Enough said.

Roman took the passion that he’d had for his Janus and channeled it into his acting. If he couldn’t get love, he’d get a fucking Tony Award.

Remus: Remus had been annoyed by his brother’s complaining.

“Oh, boo-hoo, my soulmate has a rare name. That means that as soon as I meet him, I’ll know exactly who he is! Roman, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE NAMED LOGAN”

Remus was annoyed that his soulmate had the audacity to have a common name. In theory, he could date all of the 18,000 Logans in the country, but does he really have the time?

He and his brother bicker about this for a solid seven years, until the argument abruptly ends. Ever since then, he’s been on his brother’s side in everything he can.

Logan: It made total sense for Logan to not have a soulmate.

His soulmate would have been unlucky, being stuck with a know-it-all like him, at least according to most of the people he knew.

This was a simple solution to the puzzle.

It wasn’t helpful to waste time wishing for a different one.

Janus: Janus had a whole plan for when he met his soulmate.

He wrote it down in 10th grade

Step 1: Wear gloves

Step 2: Find Roman

Step 3: Say something witty

Step 4: Remove gloves, revealing palm

Step 5: This little mystery is over and done with, and hopefully my soulmate isn’t boring

This was how a lot of Janus’s plans would work. Solid ideas, but missing bits and important pieces. This includes his heist plan he scribbled out on a napkin on an April day.

Step 1: Find local con-artists

Step 2: Pretend to be a person with money (which I obviously do not have)

Step 3: Scam them

Step 4: Don’t get murdered on the way out

Step 5: Profit

He pulled off steps 1-3 with ease, but step 4 proved to be a sticking point.

As he escaped via the river, with money in his hands and a “so long, suckers!” on his lips for drama, he thought nothing could go wrong

Fun fact: It’s rather common for con artists to fatally give away their positions by yelling “so long, suckers!”. Just ask Odysseus as he sailed away from the Cyclops.

The con artists shot wildly at his boat, blowing it to pieces. As he went down with the ship, he barely had enough time to think this can’t be happening, and fuck this and I’m going to die at the same age as Philip fucking Hamilton and I really don’t want to go to hell before his lungs filled with water and his heart stopped.

And Janus died.

For a solid two minutes.

Technically, death is when your heart ceases to beat. Even though people have been revived after their hearts have stopped, it is death, and enough to draw a line across a sleeping Roman’s hand.

Janus, however, was saved by an old man, who dragged him out of the river and forced the water out of his lungs. The old man took one look at the teenager and decided that he needed better role models, which is how Patton took Janus under his wing and saved his life in more ways than one.

The Actual Plot

Roman is in a city production of Hamlet. His brother is in the audience, his friend is fixing the lighting, and he’s ready to go.

It’s a pretty good performance, by all accounts, but especially according to Janus.

He’d already been watching the main actor intently, smiling from the mezzanine, but he was even more intrigued when he read the playbill and realized his name was Roman. He could barely pay attention to act five as he planned out the lies he’d tell to get backstage.

Somehow, he didn’t get caught sneaking around, and managed to catch a glimpse of Roman’s hand in a mirror. Janus. He really is his soulmate!

Janus walks over to Roman, says something that isn’t as witty as he would have liked (but not as bad as it could have been), and removes his glove.

Now, he expected his soulmate could have a variety of reactions. He didn’t expect Roman to yell “Not today, ghost!”, throw a prop skull at him, and sprint out of the theater. Janus caught a glimpse of the line through his name.

He was reasonably sure that he wasn’t dead? He could see his reflection in mirrors, he could consume salt, people tended to notice his existence!

Jan didn’t have much time to mull over this, as he was about to be forcibly removed from the greenroom. Logan just wanted to fix the lighting and live his life, but when strangers break into the backstage and upset Roman...

Jan skedaddles as Logan chases him out of the building. The nerd has almost caught the intruder when he runs directly into a man in a green jacket holding a coffee cup full of ketchup

Why did he have a coffee cup full of ketchup?

Remus and Logan bicker as Janus escapes. When Remus realizes Logan’s name, he asks a few questions, but Logan quickly shows his two blank palms, and the matter is settled.

Everything seems over and done with.

Meanwhile, Roman is freaking out. His mind is essentially in a loop of The fuck? The fuck? The actual fuck? He’s completely unsure of what to do. Is he seeing ghosts? Does he only believe he’s seeing ghosts? Is he sane or not?

Remus checks up on his brother at around 3 am, only to find him, exhausted, and writing in his old soulmate journal. Roman tries to explain what just happened, but the narrative told isn’t exactly coherent. All Remus can gather is that

1. His brother thinks that his dead soulmate is alive

2. This is because some guy snuck backstage and told him that he was the dead soulmate in question

3. This was probably the guy Logan was chasing

Remus convinced Roman to go to sleep, and walked out of the apartment with blood on his mind. He was sure that his brother was being manipulated.

This guy might not be dead now, but he would be soon.

Meanwhile, Janus proves that he can, in fact, cross a salt circle, so he must be alive! Right?? He also can’t get a certain actor out of his head, and wonders what his next move should be.

Remus recruits Logan to help him do some investigation in case Shady Liar Dude shows up. They go on several stakeouts together, in equally improbable locations. Maybe the two of them got too far into the secret agent aesthetic. Logan had always wanted to be a detective as a kid.

They fall for each other, and fast

Roman is spiraling, and a chat with Remus has him convinced that he was wrong, and Janus really is dead. He curses himself for believing in the pretty fairy-tale. Yes, because love wins in the end and they all live happily ever after. He has a performance tomorrow.

And it’s really time he got rid of the old scar.

You don’t hang around Remus without knowing where the black market locations are. It’s relatively easy to find the cure for palm marks.

He paces around backstage, holding a journal in one hand and a small bottle in the other. The warning that destroying the palm mark destroys the soulmate causes terror to rise in his throat, even though he knows that Janus is dead and can never read his love letters no matter how many stars he wishes on.

He finally makes his choice when Remus and Logan visit him before the performance. They give him looks of pity. He doesn’t want to be pitied.

According to the label, effects should take place over the next several hours. So, he waits for Janus’s name to disappear from his hand.

Janus managed to hustle someone with orchestra seats for their tickets. Despite not getting off on the right foot with his soulmate, he isn’t going to let him go that easily. And Roman’s brilliant performance that night just reinforces that. If he was good weeks ago, he was a star now. Janus was transfixed.

When the curtain call came, Janus was the first on his feet for a standing ovation. Remus and Logan noticed him, and pushed their way through the applauding audience. Both of them almost hoped that he’d get away again so they could continue spending time together.

Roman notices him. They lock eyes. Janus waves as though to say Hi, I’m here, apologies for the awkwardness of our meet-cute, but coffee? Roman gives him a look of disdain, as if to say I can’t believe I thought you were my soulmate, you con artist. He intends to look away and bask in the applause, but before he can do that, Janus collapeses.

Roman is confused at first, and then it clicks. That’s his soulmate. That’s his Janus.

And he killed him.

Pandemonium breaks out. Roman leaps off the stage, Remus freezes in panicked comprehension, the crowd scatters, and several people try to reach the dying man.

Logan gets there first. His mind scans memories of hours spent in libraries, researching everything there is to know about palm marks. Why didn’t some people have them? How did you lose them? How could you get them back?

He instructs Remus and Roman to help carry Janus to the greenroom.

They race him there, everyone in a state of panic (including Logan, but more importantly he has a job to do). Logan tells Remus to run and get a few basic ingredients, and they wait. Time moves much too fast and much too slow, until he comes back.

Logan works chemical wonders, piecing together Roman’s hand until everything is stabilized.

A vicious scar, the type you’d except if your soulmate was really gone, forms on Roman’s palm, and it will stay there for the rest of his days.

Janus comes back from death’s door for the second time.

After The Drama

Logan and Remus eventually move past the “but I don’t have a soulmate” “and yet I still am in love with you” dithering and go on a date that isn’t for the purpose of stalking a supposed stalker.

They go to the aquarium.

Meanwhile, there’s a lot to work out between Roman and Janus. From “wow, you’re not dead” to “wow, I nearly murdered you”, we don’t have time to unpack all that.

But they do get coffee. And they talk.

Soulmate stuff! I really like soulmate aus, despite not liking to write straight up romance

It’s weird

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

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elenamegan14 · 4 years ago

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Twisted Wonderland: Headcanons for Dorm Haunted Houses Pt.5 - Octavinelle

MASTERLIST

Part 4

Probably the longest headcanon one I had so far. LOL.

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TW: Slight dubcon elements and submechanophobia.

THE ATTRACTION:

This dorm’s haunted house is quite unique because it’s a mish-mash between a cruise ship and the jazz lounge hall from the Roaring 1920s. For some reason, after thorough research, Azul wanted to include ‘submechanophobia’ (fear of animatronics submerged in water) into the haunted dorm concept himself.

Azul went crazy with all the merchandise - there were T-Shirts, posters, the most adorable set of acrylic keychains! And the piece of resistance is a two-song single that he and the twins have recorded. It has a physical and digital release, of which the latter had 1,300,000 downloads in just one day.

The promos are crazy too. The way the staff had shot the commercial for the dorm’s haunted house is so cinematically professional that many were taught it was a real movie itself. Luckily, Azul also recorded the dorm’s theme. PS: They also did Pomefiore’s promo video too for a cut share of 15%.

Azul wanted to increase his clients on Monstro Lounge, but he cannot go easy on the student participants as well. He wanted to hear BOTH screams - so the treatment for the students in the survival game and the guests is going to be very different from another.

Regular guests will be scared in a standard manner: jumpscares from animatronics, a bit of gas blowing on their necks - NO TOUCHING AT ALL.

As for the students… well, they’re most likely to get attacked ALL THE TIME. Your name it: physical touches, animatronics dragging them to their ‘doom’, etc. That’s why the dorm made a contract clause to the participants warning them that there will be physical touching and a safe word is provided. Most participants did not read this except for a few. Like MC and Jack. Unless they purchased his charms.

Yes, the octopus capitalist had created their own charms that worked only for this haunted house ONLY. It protects students from the monsters, well MOSTLY.

Perhaps because he was attached to the band he, Floyd, and Jade once made back in middle school, he wanted to include the entertainment aspect as well, perhaps for nostalgic sake. Plus, he did it because he knew people would pay money to see hot idol guys singing jazz songs. Of course, he did, why do you doubt him so?

“Do instruments of torture count?” Floyd asked during the first band meeting. Azul quickly dismissed it. And no, mayonnaise is definitely NOT a musical instrument.

When guests and student participants arrived in the dorm’s haunted house, they were lured into an abandoned pier. During the walk in the eerie, fog-infested docks, guests could see some posters of missing people, old posters of a cruise ship trip promotion, a poster featuring the Octavinelle band in old-timey fashion and old news articles about a tragic malfunctioning animatronic accident.

As they approached closer, they could hear several jazz songs, including electro swings coming from somewhere. Guests also noticed some abandoned, dilapidated animatronics that was missing some parts, giving it a frightening outlook. What really unsettles them most are writings on the wall that are written either in blood or blacks markers: “TURN BACK!” “WATCH OUT!” “STAY AWAY FROM THE CRUISE SHIP!”

They arrived at their destination: a large cruise ship was waiting on them. On the entrance, the dorm staff sold their merchandise and charms to the students themselves. Already traumatized by the two previous haunted houses, most students hurriedly buy the charm itself. Grimm wanted one because there is no way he would want to be “attacked” again, but Deuce managed to stop him from buying an ‘unnecessary’ object (“Unnecessary my foot! We’re talking about the benefit of humanity here!”).

Ace secretly buys one. “There’s not wrong with being prepared!” He whispered to himself.

Entering the den of the beast, they went inside a lavish foyer area that is reminiscent of a scene in titanic. Chandeliers, art deco furniture, and art, as well as posters of the animatronic bands, were shown in meticulous detail.

They were then seated at a wide, spacious restaurant theater area. The staff hyped the audience by asking them to sing a few lines from Azul’s song, before introducing Azul’s band like in a jazz concert.

They began the pre-show in a unique way. Azul is a showstopper mysterious owner and headline singer for “Monstro Lounge”, the cruise ship that is rumored to have a multitude of people missing. Floyd and Jade are his lackeys with the same headline as well.

Azul charms the audience with a siren-like voice, putting the audience into his trance. For some reason, the Octavinelle trio tends to direct their gazes, winks, and fanservice towards MC the most. It then evolved into a Broadway show-stopping number.

The way Azul plays his piano is started off slow, increasing his tempo and so does his seduction and flamboyance. He makes an expression that one could mistake as a man experienced in the bedroom.

Floyd goes crazy with his drums. Meanwhile, Jade plays his contrabass with grace and elegance, fingers touching it lightly but spicy.

Many female clientele almost had a nosebleed... or this close to fainting.

AZUL UNBUTTONED HIS SHIRT TEASINGLY DURING HIS NUMBER. They’re starting to lose it.

Oh, the fan’s screams actually racked up their scream counter. There’s no cheating here - who says that happy screams can’t count?

Yes, Azul does sing on top of the piano.

After they finished their show, Azul then unleashed one of his proudest creations, an animatronic of a lovely mermaid doll that began to sing like an angel. Then, with a snap of fingers, he unleashed a multitude of doll-like merpeople animatronics that looked strangely alive as her accompanying orchestra, playing a haunting, eerie song.

During the middle of the show, one of Octavinelle’s actors came to the stage, shouting about his “long-lost daughter”, followed by a couple more people. Despite the actor playing as security told him to go back to his seat, the father ignored him and embraced the mermaid doll animatronic - his daughter.

In his “rant”, he cursed the Octavinelle trio of deliberately hiding his daughter for three years and turned her into this “monstrosity”. He then declared that he will rescue his daughter from this “vile place‘, unaware that the Octavinelle trio had placed knowing smirks and grins on their face. Begging for his “daughter” to recognize him, the mermaid doll slowly gazed upon her “father”...

...and “tore” his neck apart. Fake blood spewing everywhere, his screams reverberated through the dance hall.

All of the animatronics came alive and started to gruesomely murdered the intruders as well.

“Well, this escalated quickly.” Ace muttered at the disturbing sight.

A guest suddenly screamed - the area is suddenly filled with water, causing the guests and student participants to hurriedly run to the prepared exit.

The students have enchanted some parts of the aquarium walls where merpeople students could appear in and out of the aquarium water on the wall without spilling the water everywhere. So guests and students participants were often surprised by sudden appearances of the tweels, Azul, animatronics, and staff splashing out of the wall from nowhere. There had been many who claimed to have a heart attack from these encounters.

As they run through the aquarium walls, the guests and students are spooked with various animatronics of mutated sea creatures, merpeople, and even a FREAKING shark animatronic that chases them around persistently. They appear at random times, and their designs would surely put submechanophobia (fear of underwater animatronics) into their very souls.

As they moved on further, they entered Azul’s office and workshop - where gory remains of the missing people experimented into animatronics were seen. Horrid screams and desperate shrieks rang all the way - some were even trapped halfway into the animatronic itself.

Azul had two forms for this haunted house dorm: the first is his regular jazz-lounge entertainer animatronic suit with art deco and aquatic elements. The next form is almost the same except his animatronic parts are more revealed, some parts of his clothes tattered and his tentacles are fully shown. Some guests and students secretly yearned to be trapped inside his “tentacles”.

“Fu, fu, fu… come. Let me squeeze you, let me touch your flesh...” “Yes, please.” A guest squeaked, face flushing red.

The tweels have the same elements as Azul did in their costume, except they’re identical and much more muted than Azul did. Their second forms are their merforms, but with faded mechanical parts and some fresh BLOOD on their teeth and torso...

The final stage and centerpiece of their haunted house is what Azul is most proud of. Thrown again into a twisted version of the animatronic warehouse with aquatic background, the now revealed “animatronic” Azul hypnotized the whole audience with his siren-like singing on a small stage, beckoning several guests into the sweet embrace of his tentacles. Fun fact: most students and guests could not resist the temptation and got ‘squished to death’ instead. Yep, no subcontext here at all.

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THE MISSION:

The students and the guests are separated into different groups, with a glass aquarium wall to divide them.

The guide relayed the charm mission to them: this cruise ship is infamous for having animatronics and automatons to serve and entertain their guests. But many years ago, there was an incident where an animatronic, fed up with being abused by a spoiled heiress on her sweet sixteen birthday, mauled her and nearly drowned her in the aquarium.

Their mission is quite simple: get the charm inside Azul’s office then get out of cruise ship “ALIVE”. They were told that they have three chances to find it inside the office itself, or else they would be “eliminated” and had to start all over again.

But first, they must survive his “show” to get to his office. The students were a bit confused at this part until later.

During the show, they soon learn why they were separated from the guests with a glass wall.

While the guest audience’s part is flooded with a small bit of water, the student's parts were unleashed with a torrential burst of water that they have to run to. Everyone (who is on the student side) by the end of this segment is wet from head to toe.

“Damn you, Azul! Once I get out of here, I’ll fry your tentacles!” Grimm growled, drying his soppy fur using his fire magic.

Octavinelle’s challenge is 90% of Patrick Star’s “WEE WOO WEE WOO” moments. 10% of it is just trying to survive.

The animatronics hissed, jumped, and even grabbed them at random times, which puts the NRC students into a looooot of stress since it attacked them more than once!

Oh, yes, and the mechanical shark will burst out of the “wall” when you least expect it.

“WHAT THE HECK IS WITH THIS HAUNTED HOUSE?! THIS IS VERY UNREASONABLE!” Cried one student before a mechanical shark got him.

But the ones who purchased Octavinelle’s charm walked in smoothly - the animatronics did not attack them directly, the staff stayed out of their way - all is good and right in the world...

Spoiler alert: Did they say that the charm protects them? Of course, it did… EXCEPT AGAINST AZUL AND THE TWEELS.

Yup, Ace learned the hard way when Jade came out of nowhere and tried to drag him inside the aquarium water. The screams that Ace had bellowed does not do justice to how fast he runs.

“YOU SAID THIS CHARM WOULD PROTECT US!”

Epel read the terms and agreement again, “Oh, whoops. It also says here, that the charm doesn’t guarantee to protect you against Azul, Floyd, and Jade. Should have read it thoroughly.”

“I can’t read while I’m getting chased!”

FLOYD DOES MOST OF THE DAMAGES. Physically and emotionally.

He first started by licking Ace’s face. Who knew that eel’s tongue is long.(“Nooooo! I feel so physically violated!” Ace ran to the corner and sobbed.)

Epel had a heart attack when he felt someone smacked his ass. As does Deuce. Then Jack (his tail got roughly grabbed as well).

Jack screamed out all the safe words. Deuce and Epel shouted all kinds of colorful swear words they could ever know, even the foreign ones.

MC’s ass received the same treatment, but they also received an additional playful grope. And then Floyd licked them. MC was screaming and flustered at the same time.

“Shrimp-chan is cute when startled!” He cooed before he splashed back to the water.

There were a LOT of complaints after this event this over, particularly threats of suing Azul for inappropriate sexual harassment. But then the staff asked if they all read the terms and agreements. They all went silent and got on with the next haunted house challenge.

MC’s group tried to murder Floyd by chasing him down underwater, but they realized that getting inside the water would actually disqualify them. They all promised DEATH upon the Octavinelle trio for putting them into this mess and extorting them out of their money.

Now there was one this brutal and competitive student who wanted to get the charms himself. So he kinda lures MC using the infamous “Wounded Gazelle Gambit” trick. In MC’s defense, the act was kinda convincing for a student.

They were not prepared to be chained up and kicked outside to the water, leaving them to drown after they got frisked by that said student for the charms. “In this world, only the mighty wins!”

For a while, MC is left trying to hold their breath while desperately trying to free themselves from the heavy chains. Just as their oxygen almost ran out, Jade managed to see MC struggling underwater. He managed to get Houdini MC out of the water, asking if they’re okay and who actually did this to them. While MC struggled to answer, refusing special treatment, MC decided to get back into the game and get the charms back.

Jade also decided to deal with the violent troublemaker as well, and he just knew what to do with the mechanical shark that he controlled.

To get to the office, the students went to another path, carrying them to a room filled with water and several large pieces of ice. They had to carefully cross through the thin layers of ice amongst the water. There was a mechanical shark circling around, sniffing for its late-night snack.

Already five students fell victim to it.

The ice is slippery, MC’s group is struggling to stay afloat and they do not see MC anywhere.

Epel does spot a student cackling as he carries two familiar charms.

“What have you done to them?!” Ace growled.

“Oh, I guess I made them sleep with the fishes.”

Deuce’s inner delinquent is awakened. He roared and attacked that said student, attempting to avenge poor MC. There was pulling, tugging and pinching.

Just as that competitive student got the upper-hand to Deuce… well, surprise, surprise, guess who’s back, back again.

“HISASHIBURI-DANNA, BITCH. BET YOU’D THOUGHT YOU’VE SEEN THE LAST OF ME.” MC, wet from head to toe, raised their fist, punching that said student and causing that student to release the charms. Deuce quickly grabbed them both before they lost it again, then gave an additional uppercut to that said student. The competitive student staggered backward...

...and then the mechanical shark jumped out of nowhere from the water and dragged the student into their watery doom (kidding: that jerk student got thrown out of the cruise instead. INTO THE TRASH BIN).

The remaining students reached the front of the office, but they could not open the door. Turns out, Azul had enchanted the door so that it can only be opened by using one, particular, embarrassing pose. Oh, and they have to cry out the written words as well.

“The complete flame in our chests shall not be extinguished by anyone! We are… THE PHOENIX!” They all pose like a phoenix. Once it’s done, there isn't any student that collapses out of sheer humiliation.

The Octavinelle Trio secretly recorded it. Either for blackmail or marketing purposes, take your pick.

Once they were inside the office, they were given a riddle and three chances to find it: I am violet, I sing in a limited voice and I am trapped. Find the key inside me.

At first, they thought it was a musical instrument - but there aren’t any musical instruments that colored purple - unless someone dyes it. Also, they cannot find anything remotely similar to a musical instrument. They finally narrowed down to a purple scorebook, a purple-colored radio and… a music box.

They decided to select a music box... and voila! The charm is found! It’s a good thing they got enough to share on their brain cells, eh?

The last challenge after getting the charm is to escape from the cruise itself - but they have to go through Azul to do exactly that! Yup, they have to resist Azul’s hypnotic singing, struggling to escape straight to the exit. Because of Jack’s sensitive ears, he had repeatedly tried to walk straight to Azul, only for Epel to knock him out for a good measure and carried Jack around like he was nothing but a potato sack.

MC nearly succumbed to hypnotism but Grimm managed to snap them out of it by slapping them repeatedly.

Azul sighed, “And here I was thinking I could get a chance to get close to you than Floyd did.”

Yep, they definitely did not waste any chances of getting out of here before Azul starts singing again.

The Octavinelle Dorm staff is considerate enough to give the students wet towels and a warm drink to keep the students from getting cold. Meanwhile, Ace, Epel, and Deuce joined in the protest about the inappropriate misconduct before they unleashed their rage on the nearby prepared dummies after being told that their contract’s terms and conditions had warned them that there will be touching and the staff is not responsible for it.

Perhaps getting wet is a good thing because the fiery presence of Scarabia’s haunted house might be able to keep the cold away...

Part 6

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schmokschmok · 4 years ago

Text

star dust imprints on her waiting skin

I'm really happy to finally share the pinch hit I wrote for @avatar-rarepair-exchange-2021 for @loopy777, I had so much fun writing this!

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Relationship: Azula x Yue

Characters: Azula, Yue, Zuko

Wordcount: 5100 (17 Triple Drabble)

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Arranged Marriage

POV Second Person

Summary:

This is the stranger you’re supposed to marry. The princess presented to your father as your equal. The girl you have never seen before.

aka: The politically motivated engagement of Yue and Azula that soft-boils Azula's heart over the course of several years. (5 facts disguised as secrets that Yue shares with Azula, + 1 secret disguised as fact that Azula keeps for herself.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186226

Translation into German available: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231442

CN: Food, Toxic Relationships (Azula and her father)

You straighten your back before your father can reprimand your posture. Your pointy shoecaps point towards the door, and you clasp your hands behind your back to keep you from fiddling. They dressed you in your finest garbs, pulled your hair back into a perfect knot. It was your mother who crowned you princess with a sharp needle and golden hair ornaments. The incarnation of royal poise confined in the flesh and bone of your nine-year-old body.

They talk about contracts, safeguard, and tributes. They talk about localities and modalities, about peoples and connections. They talk about alliances, coalescences, and loyalty. – What they’re not talking about is you.

Zuko and you are stood unmoving behind your parents and their advisors, feet aching and fingers twitching for safe ground. He doesn’t reach for your hand, and you don’t reach for his, but you wished he were closer to you every time your eyes fall upon the white-haired girl on the other side of the negotiating table who doesn’t lift her head a single time to meet your gaze. You just want an allied soul in this room that can soothe the fire in your veins that flares up again and again and again as you examine the straight line of her shoulders; as your gaze falls upon the blue of her clothes and the brown of her boots; as her name is dropped as little as yours.

You can’t do anything other than look at her. Not only because she’s in your direct line of vision but also because you hope you can read your future in her clasped hands, star dust imprints on her waiting skin.

This is the stranger you are to marry. The princess presented to your father as your equal. The girl you have never seen before.

Your father beckons you to step forward. You’re supposed to bow and not say a word because everything has already been said without you. But perchance you’re able to catch a genuine glimpse of her face. The face of the girl who steps up in all her graceful serenity, fingers wound around an object in front of her body so firmly you can’t even see it up close.

Now she stands right before you and you can see the allusion of a smile on her lips; that small and invisible that no one but you may notice; a conspiratorial smile just for you, a secret between you that no one else is privy to. – You don’t want her intimacy, her conspiracy, but yet you answer by swallowing down the anger and helplessness that spreads through your veins. All that remains is the embers beneath your midriff.

In the hollow of her hands lie a dark ribbon and a blue, cut stone. She bows her head, avoiding your gaze and stretching out her hands, she’s offering you a necklace, and you don’t know if it would be justified to reach for it, so you reach for her hands instead and bring them to your neck, although everything in you rebels against the thought of strange hands on your vulnerable throat. But when her touch, as she puts the necklace on your neck, is feather-light you seek her gaze in surprise. You can’t find it. She doesn’t stop not looking at you. And as she lets go of the necklace and takes a step back, the weight of the stone brings down the weight of her gift onto your shoulders.

You’ll be married once you’re sixteen, and although your entire life so far is ahead of you, it feels like the end.

In the evening you put the chain on your bedside table, in the morning on your neck, at night it disperses the light of the moon and at noon your will.

Zuko says he’s your father’s heir and that there is no place for you anymore. Zuko says the only place for you is in the midst of ice and snow. Zuko says they’re going to send you away because you’re not getting married, you’re being married off. You, however, know he’s wrong. You know your father would never allow them to send you away. You know your place is on the throne of the Fire Lord and nowhere else.

Ty Lee says it’s so very romantic that you can carry around your fiancée’s promise every day for everyone to see. Ty Lee says it’s so very sensible that the stone was cut just for you, by hands that tried to create the perfect gift for you. Ty Lee says you’re so very lucky that you know what awaits you in your future. You, however, know she’s misguided. You know the stone is your brand mark. You know everyone should be able to see who you really belong to, that you don’t belong here anymore, like Zuko said.

Your mother says it’s alright to be sad. Your mother says you can cry whenever you feel the urge. Your mother says she understands how you feel because she had been in your situation herself before she married Ozai but she’s so very happy now with Zuko and you. You, however, know she’s lying. You know she’s the one who told your father to accept the plea of the Northern Water Tribe. You know she’s the one who doesn’t want you to be here, and that Zuko will end up being right.

They have kuspuk and parka and mukluks ready for you. Thick and lined und far too much too blue. In the clandestineness of your room, you slip into the heavy fabric and you don’t recognise yourself underneath all that winter. Your own eyes stare back out of the mirror but the rest of you that you can see belongs to the fiancée of the princess of the Northern Water Tribe.

Most of the time you’re able to forget what is awaiting you, the heavy necklace an everyday weight, but in moments like this the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. The day you must leave for good is approaching and no amount of hoping and pleading and begging will keep them from sending you away.

“You look like one of them,” Zuko says and in your haste to turn around you trip over the mukluks behind you. Arms crossed in front of his body and head tilted, he watches you struggling with your balance.

He’s about to turn away as if he has been only waiting for a chance to taunt you and disappear, coming away full-handed, but then he pauses and his wandering eye studies your room until it finds its way back to you. Maybe he views the hard line of your mouth as victory, maybe the fur-trimmed hood as triumph. Maybe he wants to bask once more in the realisation that it is you who was wrong; that your mother has achieved all her goals. You must go and Zuko is going to ascend the throne.

Before he finally turns to go, his gaze softens only for a moment, you almost don’t recognise him, and he says: “Blue suits you.” And suddenly, you’re alone again, drowning in a parka made for someone bigger than you.

The seasons pass you by, in reality, however, it is you passing by the landscapes. It doesn’t comfort you, the steady progress of the royal sloop, the constant trampling of the Komodo rhinos, the never-ending roar of the sea you can always hear, feet on board or land. The cold air an incessant memory that you have left the Fire Nation and its heat behind. Proof that it doesn’t matter that you’ve spent your entire life being better and best; that it’s worthless, the word of your father to whom you’ve given all your loyalty; it doesn’t make a difference that you would become heir to the throne if Zuko would misstep because you’ve already gone too far. You’ve reached the outskirts of the Northern Water Tribe and the masses of snow and ice are shining towards you.

From now on, this is to be your home, the place you’re going to live, the realm where you’re merely the consort of the regent. You are made for greater things but Zuko is the one who will end up on the throne because your mother’s care has ensured that you will never attain what you’ve fought for.

It is the first time in your life you will not get what you want; the first time you will have to submit to a decision made against your will; the first time it looks like you will just have to resign yourself to your fate. And your fate is to live out your existence at the North Pole while the cold drives the fire out of your veins.

But the reality is actually this: Your mother is no more and Zuko is gone, but they still didn’t call you back, all three of you were mistaken. You, however, don’t know anything about it.

You miss Mai, Ty Lee and your afternoons in the palace garden. You miss trainings fights and talking behind closed doors about the things Ty Lee and May can’t confide in anybody else. You miss the warm feeling of gratification that spread through the pit of your stomach whenever Mai asked in a low voice: “Don’t tell anyone, Azula, not even Ty Lee.” You miss the intoxicating feeling of sprinkling barely decipherable hints of all their secrets into conversations, always bordering on revelation. You miss the feeling of being needed, of being in control, of not being alone.

At the North Pole, you’re lonely, an oil lamp amidst arctic wind.

Sometimes you’re lonely together with Yue. Lonely because she doesn’t belong to you but to the Northern Water Tribe; expressions of loyalty would be nothing but hollow phrases. Together because sometimes she looks at you as if wants to whisper soft words meant only for your ears. But most of the time she blinks decidedly and averts her gaze from you as if she had just noticed who’s sitting in front of her. (That you’re sitting in front of her.)

(Sometimes you wonder what Yue could confide in you. You wonder what secrets lie dormant in a person like Princess Yue; what feelings and thoughts, that she wouldn’t share with anyone else, are hidden behind her superficially polite words; what vulnerabilities are buried beneath her introspective smile and kind eyes. You wonder how far you would have to dig to reveal what is hidden inside her. But most of the time you are preoccupied dealing with the anger that is constantly threatening to burn its way out of you that you can’t concentrate on anything but breathing in and breathing out and breathing away all the need for rash action.

The first secret she confides in you isn’t really a secret, it’s a “this one is my room, don’t hesitate to knock if you need anything, doesn’t matter the time of day” and an imploring “no matter when” as you walk past Yue’s door. But it feels like a secret, in this residence where every ice pillar looks the same and where, on some days, you can barely find your own room (which is not far from hers).

You try to think as little as possible about the fact that you now know the place where she is most vulnerable, because there can only be one reason why Yue has taken this step towards you: She is trying to gain a strategic advantage by laying the groundwork to be able to extract information from you without you seeing through her game. It doesn’t matter that you find yourself at her door on bad days, hand only moments away from knocking, because the thing is: Yue is not the only one capable of coming up with a game plan – a battle plan, really – and you’re tired of waiting for the situation to change on its own; tired of waiting for your father to finally bring you back home; tired of being passive and deedless and waiting. You want to finally take action, and maybe the only way to achieve that goal is to beat Yue at her own game; even if that means taking different paths than you’re used to go. (You know what your father would ask of you to win Azulon over. And how difficult could it be to conquer a princess that has already laid claim to you far too long ago? You can be perfect for her, you think, doesn’t take too much effort. A cinch, really.)

“I’ve never been interested in card games,” you say in way of greeting, your shoulder leaning against the doorframe and the offer of peace in your voice. Yue winces, visibly taken off-guard by your appearance. “My strength has always been more in Hide and Explode and the shell game.”

For a moment, her fingers fiddle with the Water Four she was about to place on the second pile from the left. Then she places the card next to the board and indicates for you to enter.

Your shoes almost slip on the ice, but you carry it off well that the floor catches you unprepared in unsuspecting moments and throws you off balance.

As you sit with her on the carpet in front of her bed, she says: “Usually, I play Pai Sho.” For a moment you’re reminded of Uncle Iroh, whom you have seen playing Pai Sho so many times but who never offered you teach you – just as he never wanted to teach you generating lightning. (You took up the lightning, discarding the Pai Sho.)

“I’ve never played Pai Sho,” you retort, while you can’t believe that a first opportunity to gain her trust presented itself so quickly and so obviously (a mundane opportunity, but you’re patient. This is your road to the throne, albeit the wrong one), and you swallow your anger at Iroh.

“Oh,” Yue says quietly. “I can show you how it’s played.” She makes no move to stand up. “But you’ll have to do something for me in return, all right?” A conspiratorial smile spreads across her lips; a smile you have seen before, and you brace yourself for the worst. But you do nod determinedly. “You gonna explain to me what Hide and Explode is.”

This will be even easier than you expected.

The second secret she confides in you is not necessarily a secret either, but you let it pass as one because it means moving a step forward. You sit outside the palace and she explains the rules of Ice Marbles, which, unlike Pai Sho, seems like something you might actually enjoy. (You’re good at Pai Sho, a natural-born strategist, but little comes close to the sweet satisfaction of a victory evoked by a game in which you had to really put yourself out.)

Her hand cups yours as she corrects your grip, and you concentrate all your strength on simply accepting her feather-light touch. (You remember the first time she touched you, you feel the stone on your neck, making you much less of an outcast here.)

“Since you’ve arrived,” Yue says suddenly, without taking her hand from yours, “I wonder how on earth it’s possible that you don’t freeze.” She looks at your red and black coat, clearly not designed for North Pole temperatures.

You stare at the marble in your hand and reply: “Fire.”

The temperature of your fingers increases, and with the melting of the ice marble, Yue pulls her hand away to avoid burning her skin on yours. You regret a little that you didn’t tease the same indignant reaction out of Yue that Zuko would have displayed in this situation. But you also don’t expect her to say in a low, concerned voice: “You must be awfully hungry from all that bending.”

She doesn’t ask why you’re still dressed in the thin coats of the Fire Nation and not the warm parkas of the Water Tribe, even though so much time has passed by. Instead, she shows you the way into the kitchen and the best way to obtain a midnight snack without getting caught.

#10

Your hot fingers bend metal, that was once a necklace of yours, into a new shape and you wonder what exactly it is you are doing here. Or rather: You know exactly what you are doing, but you cannot explain why you are doing it.

For years, the betrothal necklace around your neck hasn’t felt as heavy as it did when you were still in the Fire Nation, and by now you know the necklaces are given away by the courting to the courted. You know that wearing the necklace marks you as courted, as ensnared, as smitten, and you’re so very tired of seeing Yue’s bare neck peeking out of the collar of her parka. You’re not the kind of person whose benevolence is ensured without wearing your sign, too. Showing your allegiance so very publically when Yue’s not also constantly reminded that you’re not the only one who belongs to someone else.

So, you sit in the snow, wrapped in your coat and focusing your full attention on the gentle, precise bending of the metal to make a pendant for the red ribbon you pulled from another one of your necklaces. (You have no use for all the jewellery they bestowed upon you when you were forced to leave. There is only one necklace left for you to wear until you’re married.)

You dip the pendant into the snow to smother the glow and you look at the teardrop shaped thing into which you still have to engrave flames to avoid any confusion about who Yue is belonging to.

(In the end they look more like churning waves, you’re not an artist by any means, but Yue’s smile is so frighteningly genuine and so surprisingly infectious that you don’t mind it as you put the necklace on her.)

#11

The third secret she confides in you may not be a deep, dark secret but it must be enough to reassure you that you are on the right track.

“I know a spot,” Yue said before she led you outside late at night and posited you right behind her on a polar bear dog. You rode for quite a while and, after she asked you to, you actually kept your eyes closed. (You tell yourself that you did it because you want to convey to her that you trust her, so she can completely and utterly hand herself over to you. But she has never given you any reason not to trust her, hasn’t she?)

Suddenly, the polar bear dog halts and you feel Yue lowering herself from its back to the ground. You pause until you feel her hand rest on your thigh, the back of her hand facing down, the inner palm turned up so you can put yours into hers so she can help you down.

“All right,” Yue says after leading you away from the polar bear dog. She stops you and turns you in another direction, then, without letting go of your hand, she says: “You can open your eyes now.”

And as you open your eyes, the vastness of the cold tundra and the polar light stretching above hits you right in the heart. You feel so small and overwhelmed that only Yue’s hand in yours can stop you from turning back to the polar bear dog and fleeing. (You’ve never felt like this before, and you don’t know how to deal with so many feelings that aren’t anger or defiance or spite.)

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yue asks softly, and you can’t help but look at her out of the corner of your eye.

#12

The only reason you came back to the place she showed you was because you wanted to be alone. Truly and utterly alone. Just a few precious hours without another living creature, while the North Pole sleeps and you can be finally in your own element again. (The constant control of your own body temperature and the perpetual cold drains you because there is so much more inside you that isn’t allowed to come out.)

You stole a midnight snack from the kitchen and wolfed half of it down before shaking out your limbs and stretching them.

Everything in Agna Qel’a is made of ice and you can’t afford to lose the goodwill of the city by melting its infrastructure or damaging a few buildings. So you must use the empty expanse of the tundra to scratch the itch inside of you; to finally get back to doing what you were born to do.

At first your joints feel unwieldy and frozen, as if you’ve never bend fire in your life, but the longer you twist and turn across the ice, the smoother your movements become, until eventually you feel as if you’ve never done anything else in your life. Laboured breathing, you slip your coat off your shoulders, your upper arms and face steaming in the cold. As you stretch your arms above your head to stretch the muscles in your shoulders, you suddenly hear a voice you didn’t expect: “That was beautiful.”

Surprised, you turn to Yue, whose hand clasps the reins of a polar bear dog. You reply slowly: “Firebeding is powerful.”

Yue shakes her head and it almost looks like she is smiling at you as she says: “No, what I mean is: It looked beautiful.” And you don’t know what to do with that statement.

#13

It’s the Avatar.

The damned Avatar is at the North Pole and you don’t know what to do. (Or rather: You know very well what would be expected of you. You know that if you father knew about the Avatar, he would expect you to report to him without hesitation. You know that he would expect you to put a quick end to the Avatar. And you could, because he is so young and so inexperienced and so powerless that it would be easy for you to overpower him. But why should you do what your father expects of you? Why, after all this time of not hearing a word from him beyond the order to report back, should you do what he asks of you? You have waited so long for him to explain to you why he left you alone. You have waited so long for him to take you back and tell you that it was just a gambit to give you the space you deserve. You waited so long and were disappointed).

(And then there’s Yue, who doesn’t want to hide from you that the Avatar is at the North Pole; who looks into your eyes with vulnerable, brittle faith and tells you not to tell anyone; who begs you to keep quiet, even though she knows your father would demand otherwise).

The damned Avatar is at the North Pole and you don’t know what to do. (And you remain silent, just as your father remained silent when you had to leave the Fire Nation. And you stay silent because you have to gain Yue’s trust after your father lost yours. And you just watch the Avatar becoming stronger and stronger, because he’s going to affect your father in a way you could never possibly have).

#14

The moment you realise that your loyalties cannot lie with your family and the Northern Water Tribe comes in the form of General Zhao laying siege to your city. (It is the first time you think of Agna Qel’a as your city; feel Agna Qel’a as your city). You must decide which side you’ll extravert.

This acknowledgement should not be difficult for you, even though your father is everything you have ever lived for. But still you stand rooted to the spot in a pile of snow and cannot lift a finger. Everything inside you freezes and you can only watch as Zhao makes his way to the oasis.

Your heart wanders reluctantly to Yue, who asks you in a trembling voice to support the Avatar and help the Northern Water Tribe; who desperately grabs your hand and asks you urgently if you are on the same side.

(Are you on the same side? So far you have only ever been on your side and the side you would share with other people has always had to be yours. Mai and Ty Lee have been on your side and you’ve been kind of on your father’s side. But now it’s different, now everything is different, and maybe it’s time to take a side that you’ve chosen all by yourself).

“General Zhao,” you call out with all the potency in your voice, and you surprise yourself. Even though you live at the North Pole and no longer have the same power as before, you are still his princess and he must do as you ask. “What do you think you are doing? Whose orders do you think you are acting on?” And with that, your battle lines are drawn and you are not sure how you found yourself on this side.

#15

The fifth and final secret she confides in you sounds like the greatest revelation Yue is capable of.

You sit together in the middle of the tundra, five-fingered gloves and thick parkas with fur-trimmed hoods protecting you from the icy cold of the wind. The only other creature in sight is the polar bear dog on which you sneaked out of town.

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?” Yue asks quietly, without looking at your face. You brace yourself for her to tell you something that will somehow move you forward, that will tell you how to finally take another step further.

When she doesn’t continue, you encourage her to keep talking: “Sure. Go on.”

“When I became old enough to be inducted into political business,” Yue begins, and you perk up, because until now you’ve been kept out of most political matters, because as the princess’s consort you don’t have the right to participate in the conversations and discussions, “my father forbade me to keep on penguin sledding with the other children because it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do so. But I still sneaked out one time at night because I couldn’t stop myself.” A blush spreads across her cheeks that you’ve never seen on her before, you almost don’t recognise her.

“Penguin sledding,” you repeat, bewilderment creeping into your voice. (You were expecting a mystery to match the abysses of yours, but this one is so far from your understanding of what mystery truly is that you can’t stop yourself from laughing a little.)

Her cheeks turn even redder and she tries to hide her face from your gaze as she embarrassingly exclaims “Yes!”, which makes you laugh a little more. Suddenly you are no longer sure if you remember the plan.

#16

The scroll in your hands looks as if you had never opened it, only the broken seal proves that you know the contents. You look at Yue, who is sitting on the carpet in front of her bed, and you say: “I must pack.”

Frowning in surprise, Yue asks: “What?”

“My father wrote to me,” you reply, then hand Yue the scroll so she can read for herself that your father is ordering your intervention in the doings of Iroh and Zuko.

Her eyes dance frantically over his words and with strained disbelief in her voice she asks: “And now you must pack?”

“I must pack and begin to search,” you declare, your thoughts already half buried in a map of the world.

Yue sighs sea-bottom-deep before she can stop herself, noting: “You must obey his command, for your people, I understand.”

You snort, and the laughter that falls from your lips afterwards could almost be about Yue if it wasn’t so damn entertaining that it doesn’t matter how much time people spend with you because they fail over and over again at being able to read you.

“I must find the Avatar to teach him firebending,” you retort mockingly. There is nothing in this world that edges you on as much as malice and invidiousness and the mere gratification of doing something out of spite. (To your father, not to just anyone. The days he could enjoy your unquestioned loyalty are over. You want your throne, and the Avatar is the only one who can make it happen).

“I’ll come with you,” Yue says suddenly, already standing on her feet, and you can’t explain the warm feeling that spreads through your entire body. After all, you didn’t ask her to come.

You say: “Good.” And she smiles at you.

#17

The boat Yue has organised for you is small and wooden and not at all meant for royal travellers in its sheer simplicity, but it will have to suffice to find the Avatar who is supposed to be in the Earth Kingdom. Yue has brought on board two waterbenders for your plan, who will not rat you out to Arnook (because they love Yue; a nonbender who is not even trained in combat, but who is so close to their hearts that they see nothing wrong with doing anything for her, even if their chief would not agree) and who are trained in steering boats.

You take one last look at the illuminated palace that has been your … home for the last few years, even if the thought doesn’t necessarily bring the same kind of comfort as knowing Yue at your side. (Yue, who, without questioning your motivation, has been immediately willing to do anything for her people, and thus somehow for you; who, in all your time at the North Pole, you haven’t had to convince of yourself in the same way as Mai and Ty Lee and your father, and in whom you can sometimes recognise parts of your mother that she only revealed to Zuko, but never to you).

“You want to tell them to put out to sea?” Yue asks, after checking her bag one last time to make sure she has packed everything. She has let you tie her hair into a topknot, and if it weren’t for the Water Tribe symbol on the medallion she has attached to it, you could easily mistake her for a Fire Nation princess.

You shake your head. “You do it.”

And then you reach for her hand and together you board the boat. Your journey is just beginning.

#schmok writes #avatar: the last airbender #azula x yue #fanfiction #atla rare pair exchange 2021 #atla

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musedblues · 5 years ago

Text

Born To Love You [Part: 4]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Have I mentioned how much I love you lot? Because it's true! I do! 💖 Here is chapter 4 in all 'er glory. Feedback/ predictions/ and thoughts of any kind are always intensely appreciated of course! Stay well darlings 💞

w/c: 5k

Part 5

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Hello, my darling, my dear!" A familiar lilt floated past the door of your rented flat. Gwilym's mother was here.

You weren't entirely surprised to see her, she usually found some excuse to visit her son on whatever film set he used to occupy his time through the years. But she was terrible at surprises, and always let you know when she was planning on popping round. So why hadn't you heard from Mrs. Lee till now?

Before you had time to ask or even greet her properly, her arms were wrapped around your shoulders like a vice. Gwil's mother had always loved you- the first night you met, she assigned you a designated spot at the family dinner table. She never questioned your situation with her son. She always went out of her way to invite you to holiday parties and spontaneous family gatherings. And the times you had to miss out for one reason or another, and Gwil still brought Olive along, he'd bring her back to you with a message from his mother; how she'd missed you.

"What are you doing here?" You laughed into the woman's hair. Before Mrs. Lee answered, as you pulled away from the embrace, you noticed the look on Gwilym's face. You could tell there was something he'd been waiting longer than a couple of minutes to say.

"I invited her to stay for the weekend." Gwil grinned, sauntering closer to greet his mother with warm grandeur. To both of you, Gwil's mother's presence in the Airbnb was like a breath of fresh air. Olive was perhaps the most pleased of all, clamoring with laughter toward Mrs. Lee. She scooped up your daughter in a big hug and went on explaining her surprise visit...

"There's a show here in the city on Monday. I'm meeting some coworkers there, we've been planning for months! Anyway, I called Gwil to ask him to lunch and he doubled the offer! I'll be glad to watch Olive for a night, but before you leave we have to catch up."

"Leave? Where are we going?" You turned to Gwil as everyone settled further into the room. He seemed to already be waiting to tell you what he'd had up his sleeve.

"Lucy planned a party, tomorrow night. Rented a place to stay and everything."

"Oh...oh no-" You'd nearly forgotten. It was Joe's birthday.

"And I knew you'd try and get out of it. So, mum will stay here with Olive and when we get back on Sunday I'll blow my paycheck on taking her to a big fancy dinner as thanks." Gwil looked to his mother as she eased onto the sofa with a smile and a shrug, unopposed to being pampered.

"Gwilym!" You worried, trying to contain your panic but make yourself clear all the same. "I don't think I should go." You implored.

"It would be stranger if you didn't, don't you think?" Gwilym looked to you with a raised brow, his firm voice stirring the worry in your gut.

"Why are you two so on edge?" Mrs. Lee piped up from the sofa, where she sat unbothered by Olive yanking at the necklaces layered across her chest.

Neither of you could lie to her. So you and Gwil heaved a matching sigh and spun to sit on opposite sides of the room. And just like when James demanded to know what was up, Gwil took initiative in telling the story you'd been engulfed in for a while now- sparing a few details about arguments and longing gazes. His mother listened, showing little to no favor for which side she might have been on; hardly giving a single sign this situation shocked the woman to any degree.

"So, tomorrow is Joe's birthday. And we'll spend all night together in the thick of it." Gwilym rose a hand your way, almost like he was asking you what to do next. But he'd already planned everything out, hadn't he?

"Well," Gwilym's mother straightened. "That's the best time to work things out, without Olive around. Surely you can sit your friends down and explain things like adults, right?" She pointed a look to Gwil, one you imagined sent a chill down his spine as a boy, and maybe even still now.

"Right." He looked from her to you. And you knew he wasn't done scheming. You knew you were stuck between the promise you made to Lucy to be prepared to party, and whatever Gwil was up to now.

///

"Mama?" Olive grabbed the hem of your shirt in her fists as you flung your purse over your shoulder. Somehow, it sucked even harder every new time you had to leave her behind. She'd mastered the art of puppy dog eyes, her tears pooling, her lip quivering.

You promised her that you'd be back before she knew it. That she was in safe, fun-loving hands. But when the girl looked to Gwil who was toting your overnight bag to the front door, she was done for. Not even his excitable transaction of Olive's beloved one red-eyed bat stopped her tears.

And even though it felt impossible to walk out the door to the sound of her pleading cries, you knew she'd be okay. You wondered of your fate, though.

You left the rented car at the flat for Mrs. Lee, whose stories over homemade dinner and chatter over morning coffee lifted your spirits tenfold. Her excitement for spending a little more time doing just the same when you got back would likely keep you from drowning in your own worried thoughts. Off you went, all the while...

Lucy had rented some cottage in the hills. Apparently, she'd overheard Joe muttering about wanting to spend some time in the countryside before the production came to an end. The usual lot of you were invited to come ready to spend a night of fun, a night to celebrate Joe. He deserved that and more. But you certainly weren't worthy or prepared to join in such a celebration.

While your uber headed out of the city, you and Gwilym talked about how hard it was to leave Olive, how you couldn't wait for her to be a little older, easier to sneak in on the action. How you wished she'd stay small all the same. How Gwil stayed with you and your roommates the first week you brought Olive home, and how he hated to leave by the end of then. About the first day you left her with Gwilym when you went back to work, and how it seemed so easy because you knew how happy Gwilym was and that everything was fine.

As the forests of trees grew denser along the roadside, the ride became coated in a silence you mistook for shared reminiscence. But then Gwilym spoke up with a question you hadn't expected.

"If... if I hadn't roped you into being 'Mrs. Lee'..." He hesitated, almost afraid to ask. You, afraid to wonder.

"If I wasn't around when you met Joe..."

"If you weren't around, I wouldn't have met any of your lovely friends, honey." You gave your fake husband's hand a squeeze hoping he would take a hint.

By then, the uber was creeping up a gravel path to a cottage in the midst of pines and maples. The dull blue sky framed the quaint old home made up of worn brick and curtain shielded windows. Near the tri-colored brick chimney, Ben was stood smoking. His eyes (even from your view behind the tinted car window) somehow greener than the leaves that threatened to envelop your shelter for the evening.

Your conversation with Gwilym was officially cast aside, but you didn't miss his somber smile. The fact he felt for you muted the ache of adoration you felt for Joe at the mention of his name. You shook all those thoughts away on your clamor to solid ground.

Ben greeted the pair of you cheerily and led the way inside. No one else had made it yet. Ben said you and Gwilym were lucky to be early enough to choose the best room in the house. There were enough for everyone, around tight paint chipped corners. If you had to be locked in with everyone for an evening, at least it got to be in such a charming little space.

You and Gwil wordlessly abandoned your things on a small quilt covered bed and went to find Ben in the kitchen, proudly setting out all the liquor he managed to bring along. Rami and Lucy were in charge of bringing Joe, and a boatload of snacks. Gwilym must have been in charge of bringing you.

You knew it was important not to let a single crack split between your bond tonight, with no baby to hide behind. It wasn't hard to seem content, settling into a big comfy sofa as there three of you waited around. Beams of grey sun shot through the massive windows on the doors that lead outback. As you lost yourself to admiring the space, the others burst in.

Rami and Lucy carried a comical amount of bags in after Joe who was clearly ready to party. You couldn't help but laugh, out of all the ways he could have celebrated, he was delighted to stick himself in the middle of nowhere with the same group of people he was always stuck with anyway.

And just like that, you were all back together again like you'd been forever, like an afterschool special. It was easy to mix yourself in, just as easy as it might have been to stay in a far off corner. No one could focus on one thing long while they scattered off to explore the floor plan. After everyone had their share of admiring the nooks and crannies of the home, the fun began.

In the garden past the rickety steps of the porch, there was a tattered net already set up. Near the shed, Gwilym found a trunk full of dirty old sporting goods, and a tarnished blue volleyball was the only thing sturdy enough to play with. You teamed up and went wild like kids, like you all had at the play place outside Ben's favorite cafe. Except now you all relied on each other to play the same honest game.

Morale drifted from teasing banter to grunting curses as your scores were tied. You spiked the ball and won the first game. Celebration hardly lasted as chatter of a second round was on the rise. But when Lucy trodded of to catch her breath, you quickly decided to join her, riding your winning high.

She motioned you inside, making a b-line for the kitchen while the sun turned the world golden. Lucy appointed you to help her start making dinner as the boys continued playing volleyball to the death.

As their shouting at each other rattled the kitchen windows, Lucy unveiled ingredients for a homemade pizza. She'd heard Joe craving it the week before, and tonight was all about him.

"You're good at this." You pointed out, helping her set out ingredients along the counter space that wasn't crowded with booze.

"What?" Lucy laughed, cheeks still flushed from running around out back. Hair still windblown. Still so flawless. And kind, to top it off.

"Going out of your way to make people feel like they belong." You made clear. When you met, she'd gifted you the perfect handbag. Now she planned out Joe's birthday evening like her own, plotting for things he brought up in passing- things he probably hadn't realized anyone might have heard at all.

"I guess it's my love language or whatever." Lucy shrugged, moving about the kitchen. "My uncle married a hopelessly out of touch woman when I was thirteen. She heard I liked to read. So, for every holiday or birthday, this woman would alway buy me those dreadful penny novels from the market. The kind that are basically porn about pirates and vampires," Lucy laughed, and you did too. Those novels were definitely guilty pleasures. Who would think to gift them? Let alone to a teenaged girl who was probably just as wise beyond her years back then, too.

"I vowed to be a better gift-giver. But... I did always read those books." Lucy snorted a laugh. As you helped chop veggies and mix spices, she told you all the horrifically cheesy one liners from the novels she never wanted.

Soon your laughter drowned out the boys shouts from outside, and Ben rushed to join the party. He cranked music and danced around the kitchen while you prepared dinner, mixing drinks to test out the bevy of alcohol he’d purchased.

Rami joined in, while Joe and Gwil shared some kind of chat in the living room. You could see them past the wave of Rami's hand as he told a story. And no matter what they might have been talking about, the way Joe and Gwil kept stealing glances in your direction made your nerves stand on end. Luckily, you had enough vodka to stir up a different, much more manageable buzz.

It was picture-perfect organized chaos. You felt like you had back when you moved in with James and Andy, when they would throw parties just to celebrate random Saturdays. Back when you only knew Gwilym as the guy from down the road with a nice house and a pretty face. He still had those things, but now there was so much more that made up the tall man you willingly wrote your future off too. You missed Olive. But you knew she was happy and safe, and so were you. You took another shot to prove so.

"Come now." Lucy wheezed, a glass of wine and three shots of whiskey deep. She was still quoting the best of the worst lines she could remember from all those horrible romance novels she'd been gifted. "You're fighting your feelings for this man with all the strength of the Confederate Army."

"I'm sorry, what?" Joe gasped a laugh as he passed by, freezing in place. You and Lucy laughed too hard to explain why on earth she'd just said that. And when she caught her breath, Lucy only quoted something else,

"He tore open her blouse like a Publisher’s Clearing House letter."

"That's not real." You pointed, the ache in your gut finally from laughing too hard.

"Whatever you two are having, I'd like some." Joe decided, reaching past you to grab the bottle at your side. His arm brushing against your waist would have been enough to send you into a total blackout, but he just had to look right at you, too. As Joe grabbed the liquor and Lucy kept laughing, you noted that time seemed to stop; even on your second glass of rum. All because Joe dared to look right at you, like he so often did, like no one else ever had before.

Another drink, you decided. It had worked so far, and everyone else was on the quick path to getting wasted before dinner was finished cooking. Luckily, the smell of fresh sauce alerted everyone to gather around and conduct themselves to share a meal together.

The homemade pizza was better than you expected, and your hopes had grown very high as you helped make it. Everyone was in agreeance, scattered about the living room, paper plates in their laps, music still blasting from Ben's phone somewhere in the kitchen. But no one was happier than Joe. He raved over Lucy's thoughtfulness, and over the very tasty dinner that resulted. Rami poured everyone another drink as Ben insisted it was time for Joe to open his presents.

You all raced to collect the gifts you brought and made a very big deal out of making Joe take his time unveiling each. What more did you have to do than make an event out of every last minute together? To make sure Joe realized just how dearly he was cared for?

Ben had gotten Joe tickets to a rugby game, and some of his favorite English chocolates- Joe broke off pieces to share with every one of you. Lucy and Rami gave him an expensive-looking box of tea, alongside a clay mug decorated with stamps of delicate-looking dinosaurs.

Gwil got him a portable record player and said it was from the both of you. Gwil had taken notice that Joe was buying a bunch of vinyl on days off, and leaving the discs to collect in his suitcase for when he got back to New York. But he wouldn't be going home for a while still, so it seemed fitting to offer Joe a way to fill his drab Airbnb with some music until then. The auburn-haired lad lit up, and gave a heartfelt thanks to his extremely generous friends, insisting that an allnighter in this comfortable cottage was already more than enough.

"Oh wait, there's one last thing." You gave Gwil a sly smirk as you stood to pass a sealed envelope to Joe. Everyone leaned in close while Joe curiously unveiled a powder blue card with the words happy birthday simply scrawled on the front. It was blank inside, besides the harsh scribbles of crayon that Olive spent a long time jabbing into the paper. The 'drawing' was meant to be her birthday wish. You and Gwil singed your names at the bottom in pen, but you wrote Olive's name in the same pink crayon to match her efforts. You missed her.

"That is the cutest shit I've ever fucking seen." Ben cursed. It was your idea. Joe looked like he wanted to cry, but he only cracked up laughing for a very charming moment. Then he hugged you and Gwilym at the same time, repeating his thanks over and over again.

///

The drinks kept coming as night fell. You got tired of mixing your vodka and just went for it, because it really did kind of taste like blueberries. You all took turns in the only bathroom with a shower and eventually, Rami had roped everyone into some kind of drunk history type storytelling session.

Ben took a turn, jumping to his feet, anxious to tell the story of Frankenstein. The only problem being that he was hammered, and his efforts in recounting the details were hazy. So he started over from the beginning...

"Okay, pay attention everybody. Now," Ben slurred, spinning in the middle of the room to face where you sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Gwilym.

"So like, you and Gwil are Mary and Percy." Ben pointed. Gwilym looked your way as if he'd just realized you were on the other side of the couch. "And uh, Joe can be Byron! Everyone wants to sleep with him... I think," Ben decided, hazily looking back to you. "Okay so just pretend you really want to for the sake of this story. It's very important-"

"Why can't Lucy and Rami be the Shelleys?" You blurted out in wonder, uncomfortable with this drunken imaginary scenario. Gwil rolled his eyes and reached for his drink.

"Because you're the married lot," Ben pointed. Gwilym honest to God nearly choked on his liquor.

"Oh yeah. Hey, why don't you guys wear rings?" Rami pipped up from across the way, gesturing between you and Gwil.

"You don't wanna know the answer to that." Gwil chuckled. Three shots of vodka and four glasses of rum were no excuse to be so flippant. You shot the guy a glare, hardly caring if anyone else saw the warning in your eye so long as Gwilym did.

"Moving on, who will you be, Ben?" Gwyilm conducted everyone's attention to the man in the middle of the room. Ben propped one foot on the coffee table, swaying in place as he declared,

"I'm the bloody doctor!"

As the blonde stumbled through his story, Lucy passed out in Rami's arms. Joe seemed to be the only one laughing along with Ben, as his narrative progressed. Every time Ben pointed to you and Gwil, the tension between the pair of you boiled dangerous fiercer. Warning looks meant to keep each other quite turned into something darker, glares more bittered than pitying.

When Ben lost his place long enough for silence to fall over the lot of you, Rami carried Lucy down the hall, shouting pleasant goodnights to the rest of the gang. You decided it was a sign, and stood to call it a night as well. Ben moved slowly to collect empty bottles while Joe started to collect his thoughtful gifts.

"I hope you've had a happy birthday, mate." Ben smiled to Joe before the blonde moved to help Gwil pick up a few of the discarded plates and cups. Joe was gathering his mess of presents, stalling to admire the card you thought to give him.

"Thank you for this." Joe grinned in your direction, scanning the card again, and opening it to examine the scribbles of crayon meant to be Olive's well wishes. The man with fossils for eyes beamed like a fool and you couldn't help but do the same; moving by his side to glance over the scratched greeting from your daughter, to Joe.

"You guys made one cute kid," Ben spoke up across the room. You blinked up, catching Gwilym's nod of appreciation toward Ben. "Do you think you'll ever have any more?" He wondered, casually.

You gave an automatic, tipsy shrug, not opposed to the idea, just not with Gwil of course. But they didn't need to know that.

"No, actually." Gwil glared at you, like he was upset you weren’t playing along or keeping a low enough profile. Like he hadn't been just as dangerously close to giving yourselves away.

"Are you guys alright?" Ben timidly wondered after a beat. Gwil just clenched his jaw shut and spun around toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You didn't know the answer to Ben's question, either.

So you hurried after Gwilym, your vision blurred, but your intention clear as day. You found him throwing his rubbish out with a sigh.

"Why are you acting like this?" You hissed, stepping close so no one else could hear.

"Blame it on the rum, dear." Gwilym shrugged but shot you a look that let you know he knew exactly what he was doing. He turned further into the room as you shot back,

"Drunk isn't a synonym for stupid. You should know to keep your mouth shut, you're the one who started this."

"Then shouldn't I end it?"

"It will never end!" You'd always be trading school pick-ups and planning birthday parties together. You knew Gwilym knew that.

"But this has to end. You won't tell, and you won't let me tell, so we're gonna break up the old fashioned way, got it?"

"What are you talking about?" You wondered, exhausted.

"I don't want to be married to you anymore! If I had a ring I would throw it on the ground." He spoke, loud and clear enough to get you to see a little straighter.

"Gwilym, what the fuck?" You let out a stunned laugh. You knew what he must have meant, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eye hit you right where it hurt most. You weren't married, but you might as well have been. Gwilym agreed with that sentiment through laughter most of the time. Because he was your friend. But it suddenly seemed like he didn't want to be anything at all, with you.

The thick silence was back when Joe sauntered into the kitchen like he might have been breaking the rules. You couldn't be sure if he'd heard or not, but when you turned away from Gwilym's glare, you saw Joe stood looking at you like his heart was broken.

You made yourself turn from his troubled gaze, turning out of the kitchen.

Gwilym was reluctantly hot on your trail, offering a hurried goodnight to his friend before meeting where you'd run off to. The bedroom was suffocatingly small, when Gwilym shut the both of you in, it felt like the walls were closing in.

"I get that this is fucked. We're fucked. But no one was around to hear that, Gwil. We've always been on the same team."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just..." Gwil deflated as you floated onto the side of the little bed in the corner.

"Just what?" You worried, bracing for impact, preparing for this night to end on the sour note that rang in your ears now.

"I thought by shutting you out... pushing you away, that... God, it sounds dumb to say out loud. I'm just sick of watching you pretend. You deserve so much better, y/n." Gwilym explained, heavy eyes screwing shut in frustration.

"Well don't fucking do that! You're all I've got." You plead in a sorry whimper. You knew that Gwilym was drunk. And you knew he felt bad for what he said and was trying to make it better, now, by hanging his head before you.

Why did this keep happening? There wasn't anything to say anymore, was there? How about the truth, for a change?

"I think I must love him." You gave a sad little shrug, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you. "And I'm really afraid that it won't matter if we 'break up' or not."

Gwil made his way to where you sat, slumping to join your side. He wrapped a sorry arm around your shoulder and you leaned in. There was a dangerous rumble of tears bubbling far below your surface, distant enough to curse away.

"We should get some sleep." Gwilym gently moved you to lay back till your head hit the pillow. You watched on as he relaxed at your side without a second thought. Hardly a courtesy, just a routine. It brought you a faint glow of comfort either way.

"Thanks, Gwil." You hoped he registered your tone, and all the things you were grateful for in the moment. You laid in silence as Gwil drifted off at your side. Even if you wanted to close your eyes you couldn't, not with the way your mind raced.

"I'll always be here for you, ya know?" Gwilym mumbled from his sleepy state, eye closed. "I'm sorry for what I said."

You hummed after a beat, watching him sleep. Still, you just kept staring up at the ceiling while your fake husband drifted off at your side. Try as you might, you couldn't keep your eyes shut.

Once the patterns on the wall stopped spinning, you made a very quiet escape, padding out into the hall as softly as you could.

The cottage was dark and quiet, save for the fire still flickering in the chimney from the living room. You were drawn to it like a moth, but you stalled in the shadows at the edge of the light cast among the furniture. Someone else was up. Actually, it looked like Joe had never gone to bed.

"Couldn't sleep?" Joe asked quietly, noting your presence. He was standing near the large fog-covered picture windows, slowly shuffling toward the middle of the room. Your feet moved in the same direction, as you shrugged in indecision.

"What about you?" You wondered, meeting Joe in the middle of the living area. He looked at you for a beat before easing to the floor, where he crossed his legs and leaned against the sofa behind him.

"My parents called. I miss them." Joe admitted softly. You decided to sit next to him, but not too close. You brought your knees to your chest and admired how Joe's profile looked illuminated by flickering firelight. You hummed in understanding, and Joe took that as the sign to say more. He started talking about New York and his tenth birthday- one he spent in the mountains of the desert. He was disappointed to find out it was still chilly there, this time of year. Then he asked you why you were still awake- like he knew there was more to the story.

And too much time passed while you wracked your brain for an excuse that didn't point in the direction of the truth. Why was it so easy to be with Gwilym, but so hard to act like you wanted to be? Joe lowered his eyes and after a while of quiet, he spoke up again...

"I wish we met differently."

"I don't. You didn't say anything wrong, then." You snapped a little too quickly. He couldn't possibly take that moment away from you. It was all you had. And even though you should have known better than to allude to that fact that you clung to Joe’s fist words to you, it was probably obvious you did, anyway.

"I wouldn't change what I said." Joe pointed quietly, yet assured. It was as if the flames flickering before you jumped into your belly when Joe's eyes locked onto yours, again. Holy shit pull it together. You knew if you didn't leave the room very soon that you would make a royal fool of yourself.

"Happy birthday. I should head back." You sighed reluctantly, stretching your legs in front of you, wishing Joe might stop you from going. And then he did speak up again, but he didn't say what you wanted to hear...

"Sweet dreams, Mrs. Lee."

"Please don't call me that." You replied without thinking. Because you were still a little buzzed. Because you couldn't think around Joe anyway. You registered his slowly twisting expression as if he was wondering why you seemed so upset. As if, maybe, he knew...

"It's far too proper. We're friends right?" You lamented in a pathetic hurry, feeling a pit open in your chest all the while. Joe focused on you, and you knew he could tell you were grasping at straws. As you held your breath and Joe's gaze, you noticed a look in his eye, as if he were making a decision.

"Yeah... we're friends, y/n." Joe softly expressed. The leather sofa quietly crunched as Joe stood and turned toward the dark hallway.

"Goodnight." His voice sounded heavy, even as it floated away from you. You were left against the sofa with a broken heart and a killer headache.

///

The next afternoon, you watched Joe turn his head away from you on his way down the rickety porch steps, sullen. You tried to pass the moment off as a hurry, when you noticed Lucy and Rami practically jogging out of the place to catch the shared ride. Tomorrow was another early day on set. No more time to waste.

But then your heart was practically shattered when Joe offered you a pitiful one-armed hug and a flat generic farewell before disappearing in the back of an uber with his friends. Lucy and Rami both had time for a few parting sentiments. Joe hadn't even really looked at you all morning. He was even a little distant from Gwilym as they shared a brief goodbye.

Ben shared your uber back into London, and ten minutes into your hour-long commute, the sweet guy asked if you were feeling alright.

"Too much to drink." You passed off the easy excuse and couldn't help but rest your head on Gwilym's shoulder. You wanted comfort. You knew he would give it to you, no questions asked, just like always.

He'd woken up last night when you came back to the tiny bed feeling much worse than you had before leaving there. You didn't know it, but Gwilym heard Joe tell you goodnight before you came back into the room. Since then Gwil was aching to know what happened- if anything. Something had to have by the way he monitored Joe's rushed goodbyes today and your sulking. If Ben would just, put headphones in, or something...

But you were perfectly content leaning against Gwilym and letting your stare gloss over. You started to convince yourself things were supposed to be this way. You tried to focus on heading back to Olive and Gwil's mother, the fun you were likely to have with the kind woman while she was still in town. But then she'd leave, and you'd be back to simply convincing yourself, like now. Ben caught your sulking stare, and you caught him studying you. The blonde's gaze lingered on you as if he knew something was very wrong... as if he knew you were lying. But what about, this time?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine

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i-need-entertainment · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Home Hyogo: Chapter 5 Perhaps this wasn’t the...best of ideas...

Chapter 4-Chapter 6

‘Soy sauce…soy sauce…where is the freaking soy sauce!’ Y/n chanted in her mind as she scoured the grocery store shelves looking for the ingredient. Earlier that morning her mother had sent her to the store for more soy sauce, since they had run out and Mrs. L/n needed more for dinner that night. ‘Ah ha! Yes!’ Y/n smiled in accomplishment as she turned around only to bump into someone.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn- Y/n?” Y/n looked up to see “Aran?!” Y/n squealed in delight as she tightly hugged the now professional volleyball player. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he released her from the tight hug. Y/n sheepishly smiled, “Oh don’t tell me yer still tryin’ to divorce em?!” Y/n nervously laughed as Aran sighed, shaking his head. “Yer unbelievable sometimes, ya know that?” Y/n sighed and nodded her head. “I know, I know five years is a long time-“ Aran scoffed “I’d say, and after all this time, ya only come back for that huh?”

Y/n would have felt worse if it wasn’t for the joking smirk on his face. Y/n rolled her eyes and playfully punched his arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Aran gave a firm nod, “Good, then to make it up to us, ya can come out to the bar tonight. Volleyballs on break right now, so the teams gonna have a reunion tonight. You should come! I know they’re all dyin’ to see you!” Y/n looked away in thought, “I don’t know…I don’t want to intrude-“ “Y/n.” She looked up in surprise to see a sincere smile on his face, “You know you won’t be, besides, ya were manager, so yer a part of the team we’re celebrating.”

Y/n smiled again, “Okay then, I’ll be there. Well, I need to get this home to my mom before she throws a fit. I’ll see you later Aran.” He responded with a ‘see ya!’ before the two went their separate ways. Y/n finished up at the grocery store before going home.

*Timeskip to that night*

Y/n stepped out of her mother’s car, thanking her for the ride as she closed the door and walked to the small bar. As soon as she opened the door she was met with 7 smiling faces, and 1 slightly shocked one. “Hey guys…” It was quiet before one loud “Y/N!” was heard before three of the boys practically threw themselves at the young female, grasping her in a tight embrace while she laughed. Omimi shook his head while Akagi rolled his eyes, prying the three ex-second years (The twins and Ginjima were the three of course) off of Y/n before giving her his own bone-crushing hug.

Kita watched with amusement as he slowly sipped his beer, watching the fun scene with Aran as the two sat back and watched what would soon, no doubt, be chaos. “WHY THE HECK DIDJA WAIT 5 WHOLE YEARS TO VISIT!?!?” Atsumu practically yelled as he shook her shoulders, before being slapped upside the head by his twin. “You idiot. Didja forget the whole….thing?” Atsumu sneered at Osamu. “Of course not ‘Samu, who do ya take me for, an idiot?” Osamu looked at his ‘other half’ before nodding. Atsumu grabbed a fistful of his twins shirt before he was being tugged back by Ginjima and Osamu was being tugged back by Aran.

“Oh no ya don’t. Not tonight.” Aran said as he released the “calmer” twin before returning back to his seat, muttering something about being ‘too old for this’ before he took another swig of his beer, Kita was quietly laughing beside him. The sound struck a chord in Y/n, taking her back to when she could make him laugh like that…back to when he would do the same to her…Shaking her head clear of the memories threatening to cloud her mind she walked over to the bar, ordering a nice, strong drink as she joined the boys at a table. Let the festivities begin~

**QUICK PSA: I DO NOT CONDONE OR PROMOTE DRINKING/GETTING DRUNK, IN FACT, I FEEL THE OPPOSITE! IT IS NOT A GOOD IDEA, NOR IS IT WORTH IT TO ‘HAVE FUN’. YES, IT IS IN THIS STORY, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS A WORK OF F I C T I O N, WHERE THE MOST DEVASTATING THING HAPPENING IS BREAKING CHARACTER’S HEARTS. IN REALITY DRINKING UNRESPONSIBLY, SPECIFICALLY BINGE DRINKING IS A TERRIBLE IDEA AND CAN LEAD TO PERMANENT AND FATAL CONSEQUENCES. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE CAREFUL. GO OUT WITH PEOPLE YOU TRUST, WATCH YOUR DRINK CAREFULLY AND PLEASE BE RESPONSIBLE!!! END OF QUICK PSA**

Forgetting how low her alcohol endurance actually was, Y/n was now a little bit ~tipsy~ as she had put it, adamantly refusing she was drunk. Even if it was blatantly obvious in the way she was slurring her words and stumbling a little bit. She giggled as she collided with Kita’s chest, sending a light blush to his face as she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his chest. It was almost a nice moment, almost cute even. “I really hate you.”

Unfortunately, this is not that kind of story <3. Kita’s face went deadpan as he looked down at her, adjusting her so her arm was around his neck and she was somewhat stable by his side. “I think its time I get ya home.” Y/n whined in protest, trying to break free of his grasp although her efforts were in vain, as he was a fair bit stronger than her. He announced his departure to the rest of the team, well what of the team was still standing anyway. The twins had long passed out after seeing who was the ‘stronger twin’ by seeing how many shots they could take.

Turns out, it was not many, and it also turns out they had the same tolerance, since they both dropped at 10. Suna was grateful for the pictures though.

Akagi, Aran, Omimi and Ginjima were now playing pool and Suna was “watching” the twins. Kita led Y/n outside to his truck, or tried to before she ripped herself free from his grasp. “Y/n-“ “Don’t *hic* you ‘Y/n’ me. Shin*hic*Shinsuke!” Kita’s once calm expression showed a hint of frustration as he tried to get her to actually enter the vehicle. “Y/n, c’mon, let’s get you home. Yer drunk.” Y/n groaned in frustration as she continued swatting his hands away. “NO. It’s always *hic* about what youu want. You-You never think about *hic* what I want.” Kita rolled his eyes as he looked at her in disbelief. “What I want? Since when?”

Even inebriated Y/n was shocked at the tone her husband used. Kita was very level-headed, and he very rarely let his frustration turn to anger or get out of control. But he was only human, and a human can only take so much before the frustration and stress overflow, bubbling and transforming into another emotion. Anger. “Since when Y/n? Since I didn’t wanna get divorced from my wife? Since I didn’t wanna leave our home-town cause we already had a life here? Since I haven’t spent the last five years off doin’ who knows what while everyone I love is left in shambles? Tell me Y/n. Tell me how I am the selfish one here.”

Y/n turned to face him, speechless. Her mouth open but no words coming out. “You think I wanted to go?! I felt suffocated Shinsuke! I felt like I was- Like I was drowning. I wanted- no. I needed an escape. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but what else could I do-“ “You could have stayed!” She was once again taken back by the louder tone he had used, she was equally disturbed by the tears she saw threatening to spill. Tears she knew she was responsible for putting there. “I-I’m sorry Shinsuke. But I couldn’t have. Not here, not….not with you…it just hurt too much…”

Kita ignored the pain in his heart as he sighed, shaking his head and leading Y/n to his truck, opening her door and helping her in before closing it and going to the driver’s side door. As soon as the engine turned on, he looked to the side to see Y/n had…passed out. He shook his head as he started driving to Y/n’s parents’ house, using the ride as time to reflect on his life a bit. He loved Y/n, he always did, still does and probably always will. But she said it herself, she just didn’t love him. Her heart belonged to another, and he needed to accept that.

He pulled into her drive way and hopped out of his truck, walking over to the passenger’s side door and opening it. As he went to pick Y/n up however, he happened to notice the yellow folder sticking out of her purse. The darned yellow folder he’d been fighting with for the past five years. Ignoring it he picked Y/n up in his arms and carried her into her house, greeting her parents and setting her on her bed.

He then saw the photo she still had on her nightstand, the picture of her graduation, the same day he had proposed. He closed his eyes as he regained his composure, turning off her light he gave her a quick and soft peck on her forehead before exiting her room, saying his goodbyes to his in-laws and going back home. Looks like it’s time to move on afterall…

#kita shinsuke #akaashi keiji #fluff #angst #crack #kita x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi angst #kita angst #y/n #akaashi x y/n #kita x y/n #love triangle #Haikyuu!!

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magnumdays · 5 years ago

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Magnum PI 2x19 “May the Best One Win”review AKA Fangirling over my new favorite episode

Staring off we got the whole Magnum introducing Higgy as his partner...or TC’s fiancee and TC being all “we cool man?” and Magnum saying what us fans were all screaming last week (Magnum: IT MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE IF SHE MARRIES ME! I WANT TO BE HER KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR DAMMIT!)

Then Higgy is all “If you are done fighting over me...” - I mean, just, yeah, throw that in there just to torment me some more.

We basically transitions right into Magnum suggesting a divorce lawyer for Higgy in case she and TC ever “hit a rough patch” and her being all “I’m marrying TC to make sure WHAT WE HAVE doesn't get FUCKED UP, can’t you see that?” (I’m paraphrasing but that was the gist of it) I just can’t with this. It’s like 2 minutes in and I’m like in shipper heaven.

Anyways, then we have the case! The let’s work both sides and make double the money and just the whole both spouses think the other is cheating but it’s all just a big misunderstanding and goodness, happiness and love wins in the end? It totally works for me. This is the kind of PI cases I WANT. Like not super serious people dying cases and shoot outs! People just being stupid and Magnum and Higgy helping uncover their secrets and then making everything better!

We also get the “May the Best PI win!” which I’ve been waiting for since we got the spoiler bit for this ages ago.

So we got a side plot with Rick that I really- REALLY - like for once! Want to guess why? BECAUSE IT TIES INTO THE THEME! Like huh? They manged that for the first time since forever?

Yeah, I’m shocked too. But someone really thought about this or they got really lucky by chance because;

First we got the married couple not communicating and about to lose their chance at a love and a happy future because of it. When all their secrets are out they can finally start to fix things and heal.

Secondly we got the woman whose dad dies and she tries not to care because they didn’t have contact for so long but when Rick goes looking he realizes her dad did care and he lost his chance at love because he didn’t communicate. Now she can hopefully heal from both the sadness of her dad leaving as a kid and being dead and be a little happier.

Then we maybe kind of have Higgy who by deciding to actually listing to what she’s feeling for once and deciding not to get married to TC for the wrong reason/ not wanting to live a lie (making it possible for her to find love and happiness with the right person in the future...)

I don’t know, maybe the Higgy one is reaching a bit but the main theme of we don’t know what we or other people are really feeling or thinking and we act anyway, that’s when we get in trouble pretty much work for everything.

Which is a really freaking great + it’s a good theme! It’s true but no so on the nose as something like ‘don’t lie’ or ‘love fixes everything’.

So yeah. Now back to the Miggy godness.

We got:

married-not-married arguing

Kumu’s “The way you two bicker you might as well be married.”

I mean! Come on!

Then fun times with Higgy getting all the guys to do her bidding...and also actually paying for gas! I do hope this comes back in season 3 where Magnum realizes his pals actually deserves praise and compensation/ or them being all “we’re not helping unless you pay us like Higgy does”.

This could be a character growth kind of possibility arch, thingie, episode or whatever for next year.

The other arch for Thomas Magnum I really want to see in season 3 is the I’m FINE (but I’m not) one kind of lead to something (something bad).

I know they’re going for a go-lucky kind of Magnum but fact is Magnum is a solider who spent time in a POW camp, he was betrayed by his ex-fiance, one of best friend got tortured and killed like not super long ago, his ex-fiance came back and shot him then came back again and died in his arms, his partner nearly drowned and he CPR her back to life, he thought he had a future with Abby but she dropped him like a hot potato and most recently he got swapped out of his (fake) wedding last minute, then fake wedding didn’t happen and he though he’d be separated from the love of his life his partner for an unknown amount of time and all he’s been saying is “I’m fine”.

He’s got some baggage and having him always go I’M FINE isn’t really good or healthy because he isn’t fine. He doesn't have to be fine. Except when he acts like he’s not fine (like after Abby) everyone just tries to make him cheer-up when maybe he kind of needs to talk to someone about the kind of wacky stuff he’s been through. This is both something he and Higgy and even the guys need to work on. Basically it was only Gordon who was like, it’s rough, I’m here for you. I mean Higgy was there for him too, she just said “Staycation” a lot to make it not seem like she was because emotions, scary.

Still I need like Magnum having nightmares about something and actually being all “I’m not fine” and for someone to go “okay. that’s fine. you don’t have to be okay all the time” (Oh this just screams at me to fanfic:it, but I just can’t start anymore of them without finishing a few. So bad thought, bad, go away.)

So, um where was I before I got sidetracked? Oh, right the general wonderfulness of the episode?

Gordon making Magnum say: I’m kinda useless without Higgins.

Then having Magnum take hacking lessons from like a 12 year old on Youtube and begging Kumu lie about having seen Higgins computer (how has he not gotten his own laptop yet???)

I mean it’s almost not funny anymore (It is. It’s legit the most I’ve smiled in a while.)

“Maybe I’ll let the wife decide“ when buying pie and then bringing said pie back to Higgins.

“There’s a hug and then there is a hug.”

(I needed this to be foreshadowing and IT WAS NOT! I still can’t hate it because she kind of agree there are different hugs and now I want all the hugs for them...or you know just one! ONE HUG!)

And winner of this round of random things I loved, might be: “You figure out I’d make a better fake husband than TC?”

Can you be more obvious Magnum?

Then Higgins saying “I do still need a maid of honor!” (which we know isn’t true because last week she said she’d asked Kumu but we’re assuming she’s saying it just to tease him). But this made me think of that move Made of Honor movie with Patrick Dempsey where the guy she asks to be her maid of honor is actually the guy she ends up really marrying... at some later point.

Also has anyone sounded more British than Higgy going; “Oh no not the pie.“ after Magnum was all; “I’m taking my pie with me!”

Then we got my babies being sneaky and adorable and working together (because you know, even when they’re not on the same team, they are).

Then we got them kicking ass together (well more like getting their asses kicked) and only Higgy getting the gun saves them. But you know, that’s okay because I love it when she gets to be a bad-ass and knock people out.

I do feel like we need to work a little more on the realism on how bruises work on pale people, especially girls. Because you know, Higgy got slammed into like a table and slapped and seriously has anyone been slammed into a table by a really big guy lately? Well, and let me tell you from experience, even being slammed into a table by a small guy leave a bruise. And no way would she not get a swollen eye or lip from a slap that spun her around and landed her on the floor. Do you know how hard you need to slap someone for that? I mean she’s tiny (she’s what 5′4? 1115 pounds soaking wet?) and the guy was big but, still in real life she wouldn’t even be getting up, she’d be out cold, but it’s TV-land so I’ll forgive it but still, wouldn’t a tiny bit of blood on her lip make sense?

It’s kind of strange because sometimes they seem to really like putting the blood and gooe make-up on both Perdita and Jay and other times it’s like, nope, nothing, we’re invincible vampires this episode.

For today I understand the why of it though. They wanted our babies to look pretty for the wedding. Well, the wedding that doesn't happen which we all knew but still...

Before that though; TC planing on crying at his fake wedding? Adorable.

First of all how does she mange to look both stunning and terrified this whole scene?

Look at her big eyes with the I’m about to cry shininess. Also the flower bits in her hair totally not her yet somehow totally works.

I also love how when he first enters he stops and looks at her for a second, like Higgy in a wedding dress. I think I might have some feels. And come on Thomas, couldn’t you have told her she looks nice? You can clearly see she’s freaking. But no you go straight for the “fake nerves?” which I guess makes sense because maybe someone told you there was only 2.5 minutes left of the episode so there was no time for compliments...

Anyways, then comes the heartbreaking bit. Because she has changed her mind and isn’t going to marry TC (or him). She’s not going to marry anyone and she’ll have to leave him.

Leading us to the “Just fine.” moment I equally hate and love.

Don’t they both kind of look like they’re about to cry here? I feel like that’s the general vibe, or maybe it was the fact that I was tearing up a bit when I first watched it that makes me feel like that...

And as always tumblr stole the stuff I wrote here! I wish I’d learn and could go one week without losing like a chunk of text.

So I was just basically saying I loved this but I’d much rather have had Magnum go “No, I won’t” (when she says he’ll be fine) and then have her be “yes you will” and then he could just be Shrug or go “I guess I’ll have to be” or something else dramatic to show it’s a big deal to him. Then next week we could have him be really trying hard to reach Robin instead of having it all just be fixed with one little phone call. Like maybe Robin is undercover for his new book so Magnum has to make some sort of deal with some shady person who works for Robin to get his undercover contact. Or something and that could come back in season 3 as an episode...

Wow, this got kind of long, but yeah, I just loved this episode and wanted to gush about it and probably I won’t gush (or even complain) as much about 2x20 so it’ll even out in length...

#magnum pi #magnum pi season finale #magnum pi review #magnum pi 2x19 #magnum pi may the best one win #may the best one win #miggy #thomas magnum #juliet higgins #jay hernandez #perdita weeks #miggins #magnum x higgns

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years ago

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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (5/5)

A/N: The last chapter to this fic. It's a long one and I gotta say that I've had a lot of fun with this one. After I post this chapter, I'll be sure to post the masterpost for this fic. And of course it'll be available on ao3 soon enough.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

__________

Chapter 5: Adore You

If you had to draw a map to find the way home once you were captivated by the gaze of those trustworthy, soft eyes of his, you would surely run out of ink; pools of blue, unwavering in their affection, drew you in, and you were willing to drown in them. There were facets about them that fascinated you as much as the scales of a butterfly did; they did not shimmer, but they gleamed and sparkled; it's what made you pause and search for a wisp of an acquaintance that very first time you saw him; finding a familiarity that threatened to sweep you away. Why you even found fire in those eyes; it was there in his moments of determination and passion. Oh, how their color shifted with his moods was a type of magic you wanted to spend the rest of your life being mesmerized by. To be sure he wasn't mistaken, he dare not blink; exhibiting the full spectrum of what Billie Eilish described as ocean eyes; he had to be sure. "Y-you do?"

"Yes," you giggled. "I do."

It wouldn't occur to you till later, that he had given you a choice. For instead of the typical proposal question, where it was more asserted, Rick asked in a manner in which there was equal footing; it spoke volumes of the respect he had for you. With shaky hands, he slipped a ring whose stone was as clear and blue as his eyes and cut perfectly like a rose, the band covered in gold vines and silver leaves which weaved together; he made it himself, and if you thought back far enough, you could remember when he was ambiguous about his plans to create a new type of stone. Honestly, you didn't realize it would be for this.

"Gosh," he sniffled. "I-I promised myself that I w-wouldn't cry."

But cry he would; fat, sloppy tears that blinded one's vision. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and fought to regain composure, but lost to the new wave which followed. You gently pried his hands away from his face, softening at his tear-stained cheeks. "It's okay, you can cry if you want to. I already know how tender you are."

Goodness, how long had he wanted to do this? For while it had almost been two years in which he had last attempted to, it might've been on his mind for much longer than that; eating away at his clarity; at the self-confidence that was torn down and repaired daily. You were grateful and proud that this man wanted you; that he finally gathered the courage to ask and do as he intended and wanted. You….you had wanted this to happen, but did he know that? Your ocean of inquisitions thought otherwise.

However, it was time to quiet and quell his despondent thoughts. Your fingers dug into the collar of his sweater; the tang of nervous sweat and something so him which wafted off him made you yearn to bring him closer. The puffiness about his eyes didn't discourage you from pressing a kiss at the corner of them and from his throat came a choked sob and you were surrounded by the sounds of his disbelief; this cacophony was breaking your heart. There had to be something you could do to ease him. "Ricardo," you started, "considering the suddenness of the occasion, should we, in like fashion…my dear honey man, would you like to get married today?"

This new tidbit caught him off guard; so much so that he stopped crying; good. Now, he was the one who was unsure of whether this was real life or a simulation. He ran his fingers through his hair, double-checked his equipment, sprayed himself with water, and completed equations that had taken this earth dimension's leading mathematicians decades to understand. What you thought was odd was when he caught a pigeon, scanned its anatomy, and found it was sound; you were going to have to ask him about it later. "Rick, did you hear me?"

"Y-yes," he focused, "but what d-do you mean today? How?"

You figured he would have easily come to a conclusion, but then again, what do spacemen have to do with the price of bread?

"I mean that we don't have to wait if you don't want to." You slid your palm over his tattoo, memorizing with your fingertips where his skin was slightly raised. "We can just go down to the justice of the peace if you'd like."

"And y-you would be my wife today?"

"Yes," you giggled. "I think that's how it works."

"But what about a-a…"

"A wedding ceremony?" you interrupted. "Well, we can have one later. We can plan it however you want, and invite all our friends. There can be so much celebration that we'll be knocked out for a week. Until then, I just want to make you happy, and I believe the sooner the better. Okay? So, if we're going to do this, just tell me now and I'll go get the proper paperwork."

It never ceased to amaze you how easily he flitted through emotions as though it were the weather, and with vigor, he lifted you up and vibrated with joy. "Boy, golly gee…this really - this really razzes my b-berries! This is…wow, I-I can't believe it."

You couldn't believe his word choice either. "Oh, you better believe it, because now you're stuck with me and I have you all to myself. However, you're going to have to put me down now because the office closes at five. There are a few things I need to do before then."

Letting you down, he happily waved goodbye despite the fact that it wouldn't take long to get what you needed for this impromptu occasion. Though, when you entered your house, you took a moment to think about your father. There were things you still didn't understand, like why he never told you about his friendship with Rick, or why you two never really discussed what he'd do if you got married; if he had been here, maybe you two would have talked about which flowers would look best as centerpieces; like whether roses or mums were cheerful enough or if this really was a good idea; if such an age gap was surmountable. Yet, in a way you felt as though you were honoring him; for your father and your mother had been unconventional and had gotten married without all the showy displays then road tripped a bit before settling here; you were simply following tradition.

Maybe, you didn't have to know about the why's and what-ifs, but focusing on what you could do seemed a whole lot easier to do. You kicked off your sneakers and dashed upstairs. You knew where your important documents were, but you thought that choosing a cute outfit would take a little longer. You wanted a certain vibe, one that would make things easier on him and then it came to you; why not revisit an old favorite; one that reminded you of his eyes; always, forever blue.

When you returned, you found him pacing around. He was deep in thought, and it took a moment for him to notice that you had returned. Almost comically, his eyes widened as he took in your appearance, and he started to cry again. "That's th-the dress. From that one time."

"It sure is."

With a twirl, you flaunted the blue chiffon dress, and felt like a dream; his visible adoration was not lost on you. It was a relief that this time you hadn't taken an hour to fuss or worry that you weren't dressed for the part, and you weren't wearing shoes which would kill your feet, but instead rocked some converse. "These shoes are made for walking and that's just what I'll do."

Unlike you, Zeta-7 wanted to fuss and choose something dressier, but you somehow managed to convince him that his blue button-up would be fine, and no tie was necessary; hidden ray guns were allowed just in case this happened to be the day that the Gromflomites attacked; not even Earth-based military scanners would be able to detect them. Though, you did allow him to fix up his hair, because one, you thought he was quite handsome with it combed back, and two, it's what he felt he needed to do to look the part. "How do I-I look?"

"Like the man I'm going to marry. Are you ready handsome?"

With a nod, he grabbed the folder with all the documents he needed. "Y-you bet."

______________

At the courthouse, the entire security staff grouped together and teased you about your keys; you should've known that you'd face trouble once you went through the metal detector; you had a lot of keychains; they were from the days when you and your father would go shopping together. Like Rick, he liked yard sales and thrift stores; sometimes he'd get grab bags and there would be vintage keychains, and he'd give them to you knowing you'd like them. You were told by one of the older guards that it wasn't natural for a grown woman to have a set of keys that weighed five pounds. Zeta-7 began to worry, but you told him you could handle it, and you figured the guards were bored and had nothing else to do. What you didn't tell them was that the main reason your keys were heavy was that you were carrying two sets; yours and your father's old keys; Rick knew, but he respected your wishes to leave it be.

Despite this, you two made your way to the right office; it only took fifteen minutes of going to lobby after lobby, free coffee, and endless rugs in all this indoor nothingness. And nobody knew better than Rick when it came to how much you hated paperwork, but nonetheless, you went through the painstaking process of signing this and that, wondering why they didn't make it easier for people by asking yes or no questions; this better not become someone's confetti. Rick breezed through it all, and you were slightly jealous that he knew what he was doing, but it was due to the fact that citadel paperwork was a lot more frustrating and difficult; he had to go through stacks of it weekly; poor man. While he sat quietly, you were in-between forms that had to be signed in triplicate and heard the gossip coming from the people who were working in the back of the office. What they didn't know was that their ignorance made you more determined; you'd fought your own expectations, that of others, as well as what seemed right to do long enough and no one, not even death itself was going to stop you from doing this; it was the best thing you could ever do for yourself and for him as well. You breathed a sigh of relief when you and Rick finally signed the marriage certificate; finally, it was done, and he watched rapturously as you set down the pen so that he could kiss you without refrain.

If you hadn't known better, you'd say the world shied away; dissolving into a plane of nothingness as he enveloped you with a strength that was deceptive for a man of his years; he had become a little more confident; it might've taken a few years, but all you knew was that it suited him. Being nurtured and cared for, as well as loved in the right sort of environment did wonders on Zeta-7; so much so, that he could hold the world in the palm of his hand and still manage not to damage it. It wasn't shocking that some found this outward display sweet, and you almost had hope for humankind, but then there was a laugh or two from the back; you made a mental note to consider moving off Earth. No one was going to ruin this moment for him, and relishing the moment, you chased his mouth for a second kiss; you know, to prove your point.

And if you hadn't already been proud of him, what made you even prouder was what he said on the way out. "Please stop laughing at m-my wife. Th-that's very rude."

His wife? Yes, you were his wife now. It's strange how you could wake up and wonder what you should have for breakfast and be here where you were now; in a whole new chapter of your life; wondering what will come next. Confusing yes, but not something to be afraid of; you welcomed this happy transition.

Back at the car, you were still recovering from his earlier outburst; the like which was almost out of character. "Did you see the look on her face? I thought it was going to fall off with how far her jaw dropped. Wasn't it a sight?"

Though, he was busy staring at the ring on his own hand which you had picked out when you two made a stop at a consignment shop earlier. It wasn't that complex like yours, but he loved it. "All I could see was - was you."

"You flirt."

You gave his shoulder a playful shove, and in turn, he laughed a full-on belly laugh; this happy noise was music to your ears. "Gosh, I-I mean it. Y-you, look so pretty today." A bit shyly, he commented. "Blue looks very good on you."

"Thank you. So, how should we celebrate? A trip to the moon perhaps? Going across the universe? Maybe a kaiju fight with Matango? Or watching Spiderman 2? Honestly, I'm game for anything."

You had decent shoes on and didn't care what he wanted to do because you were happy if he was happy. And as though it were just another afternoon, he glowed with happiness when he asked. "Mrs. Sanchez, do you - do you want to go get some ice cream?"

Some things will never change and you didn't mind that. "I'd love to. As the author, L.M. Montgomery once said, 'I guess ice cream is one of those things that are beyond imagination.' And, you know, it's so true. I intend to go all out with the toppings today. It's certainly that kind of occasion."

______

He couldn't seem to want to let go of your hand; as though the world would fall away if he didn't and that this would turn out to be a cruel dream. Still, you humored and spoiled him. As intended, you got all the toppings; Rick thought it was a kids dream come true with the amount of candy you had in your waffle bowl. And since you had enough to share, you took the liberty to feed him. He chatted on; offering charming stories from his band days; unlike other Ricks who were in a rock band called Flesh Curtains, his band had been a jazz and bossa nova trio; the band name had been comprised of a numerical equation; if you had named them you would've called them the Zeta Bytes.

Now, Rick wasn't a messy eater, but during one of his more excitable stories, he spilled a bit on the corner of his mouth. Ready with a napkin, you wiped it away, and couldn't help but laugh at how boyish it was. Giving your hand a squeeze, he absentmindedly brushed his thumb on the back of your hand; adoration coloring his voice. “You're t-t-too good to me.”

"There's no such thing. If anything, I gotta spoil you rotten."

You found no hindrance in his mood and this time he didn't think twice about kissing you then and there as he liked while you were still holding the napkin; fear and shame of public displays of affection being one less thing to worry about now. Who cared if your ice cream was melting, because your heart was melting; his mouth tasted of chocolate and promises. A soft chuckle escaped him as he pulled away; his promise whispered against your lips. "I-I promise I'll be good t-t-to you."

Being loved suited him; it really, really did wonders on his countenance and it made you wonder what else he could now do.

_________

By now you were a little tired, but Ricks contagious energy invigorated your spirits; you bet he could've come up with an invention and completed it today if he stayed this hyped up. Instead, he used that energy to make fresh rolls to go with the leftover acorn squash soup; you hadn't been that hungry, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. And when dinner had been eaten, you helped him with the dishes; nothing you hadn't done before, but his spirit was lighter and more at ease; he even bumped your hip with his as a gesture of playfulness. After cleaning up the kitchen, he decided that he'd like to take a shower and refresh himself and in the meantime, you stepped out into the backyard to enjoy the beauty of the night. In this part of town, despite the light pollution, you could see a fair amount of stars.

You had never studied astronomy, but Rick had shown you in diagrams and in textbooks of their names and explained how they were formed; to him, their complexity was like poetry, and it made them beautiful. You couldn't recite it by memory, but you had a feeling that beyond your current comprehension perhaps there was life amongst those heavenly bodies, despite the heat or deadly gases; if you had learned anything about space, it was that worlds were more along the lines of art and beauty than fields of science which were easily explained. Yet, in the air, where there was a sweet perfume, thick, but intoxicating, only where you were currently mattered; you saw that in the leftmost part of the yard there was jasmine which was currently in bloom; its blanket of flowers reminding you of snow. Hadn't you read of this somewhere before? Maybe.

In the grass near your feet, grasshoppers leaped away, and crickets chirped their songs. And you relished the strong breezes and the song of the night which may consume a melancholic heart if it were searching for tragedies instead of sweet dreams. And it had only been a few hours ago when you had thought that all of which transpired might've been a dream. Though, whatever truths that had come to light in the hours after the simulation, you were glad of them.

In the dark, sights and sounds were heightened and mesmerizing, albeit curious in its own right; if it hadn't been for the sound barrier Rick had on his property, you would've heard the obnoxious sound of the next-door neighbor's TV as they watched infomercials. Still, it was a beautiful night. Sitting on the bench which overlooked the whole yard, you thought of what wonderful things you'd like to share with Rick, and then he found you. For his part, he had changed into something more relaxed; into a light blue button-down that was similar to the one he was wearing earlier, but this one was softer, and it was paired with navy pants; it reminded you of blue pants Rick with his attire, but it was cute and suited him. With him, he had brought over a tray of goodies and you two ate cookies and cakes and drank earl grey under the moonlit night.

The pause in conversation gave allowances for observations. For example, you took a good long look at him as he sipped his tea; admiring how casual he appeared tonight. Without his labcoat or sweater, his identity seemed separate from that of his dimension jumping, scientist self; making way for the person deep inside; the friendly neighbor who won your heart without even trying. He noticed eventually that you had been staring at him, and he broke the silence with his inquiry. "What are y-you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about you cutie. You um….you look really good in those blue pants of yours. Thinking of taking up modeling anytime soon?"

"N-no," he answered with an air of obliviousness that you found endearing. "not unless my next work assignment requires it. Gee, why do you ask?"

"Hmm, it's because you wear your clothes well. I always thought you did, but I don't believe I ever mentioned it."

He ruminated on what you said for a few minutes, before setting down his cup. "Did you - did you always find me attractive?"

"No," you confessed. "but you're the only person I've ever really been attracted to. I…..I always liked the fact that our relationship was built on something more substantial. You see, the more I got to know you, the more irresistible I found you. Though," you winked. "those teeth of yours were always too cute to resist."

This truth of yours made him comfortable enough to relinquish one of his own. "C-can I tell you a secret?"

"It's not much of a secret if you tell me dear, but you can tell me anyway."

Wringing his hands together, he confessed solemnly. "That day y-you tripped on the sidewalk nearby my house, I-I almost decided not to cross the road."

Not cross the road? Hmm, it had been an option. In your mind's eye, you could imagine it; the tall, lanky figure of a man debating against his better judgment on what he ought to do; so close but so far; knowing that he was altering the course of his future and putting yours at risk. Poor man, having to wallow over a moral dilemma like that. "Why is that?"

"Gosh, y-you….I didn't want to take advantage of the situation."

It could've been taken that way, but you never thought so. "So what changed your mind?"

"I thought you were going to cry, and I-I didn't… I didn't want you to suffer anymore. I thought t-to myself, that if I got t-t-to know you, then you wouldn't have to be lonely anymore."

When he said this, you nearly couldn't look at him; not because he knew more than he let on, but because who knows what paths you two would've taken if he hadn't shown up that day. Tears bit at the back of your eyes, and your nails bit into your palms. "Dear, love isn't always a cure for heartache," He tensed up at this, but you knew you had to tell him. You weren't upset because you had guessed as much, but being assured of it cemented the fact. "but I'm sure that without you, without your friendship, I might not be here right now. I think I was depressed, and from time to time I still feel that way. I…I have thought of ways to make my troubles end, ways you might not have been proud of, but you've shown me a better way to live. I think…no, I know that by expanding my horizons, I understand now that there's so much to look forward to, and not to take life for granted. Why," you paused, fighting the tears which threatened to fall. "you reminded me that I gotta make the most of this crazy, unpredictable life, and I'm happy that I'll get to do that with you."

He understood and accepted this answer and gave you a look of adoration and pride; the like that you hoped you'd always remember. And when you two were done with tea, you both took a walk about the garden. The sweet perfume of jasmine intermingled with that of the scent of his soap, and combined with the candor of his speech made this place feel like a well of comfort. He followed behind you as you two spoke, and you were conscious of the fact that with his freshly washed hair brushed back, it made him more appealing. His hands were in want of yours as he matched your pace, and you felt slightly mischievous as you'd skip or teased him to catch you; it wasn't long until he gathered you in his arms and laughed, and you asked without much seriousness for him to let you go, but while he loosened his grip, he didn't let go entirely. "Gosh, y-you make me feel so young. It - it feels so good to have you in my arms."

"Oh, really?" you giggled. "That's great to hear."

Pressing a kiss to your temple, he sighed. "It's unfortunate that I'm so old."

"That's okay. I like you as you are. It goes well with your personality."

"Thank you mi corazón. It feels good to hear that. However, can I-I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"¿Si hubiera s-sido más joven, habría marcado la diferencia?"

"If you had been younger? I don't know. Possibly," you admitted. "I might've been less reluctant about my feelings at the beginning, but I truly don't know. I'd like to think that I'd still would've fallen for you anyway. You're a wonderful man Ricardo, you don't have to doubt that, anyone can see that. It doesn't matter how old you are, but it's who you are."

"Y-you're right." With reluctance, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides, and he wondered. "It um - it's getting late. Should I-I walk you home?"

Was he forgetting that he didn't have to? Maybe not. Perhaps he needed a sign; one that said that any suggestion of further intimacy was alright. "I thought I was home." you answered, "Don't you want me to stay?"

Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded. "Yes, I-I-I-I do."

"Then it's settled. We'll have a big sleepover," you brightened. "and it'll never have to end. I'll borrow a pair of your pj's and hog all the blankets because I'll get cold."

"And in - in the morning," he added warmly, "w-we can have pancakes."

"Yeah, and watch enough interdimensional cable to make us go blind."

"But I-I might have to work tomorrow."

"Oh. Well, then I guess I'll just have to eat all your snacks until you come back. We might have to take a trip to Costco at some point because they sell these mushroom crisps that are to die for."

Standing under the persimmon tree, he stepped forward and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Y-you can have whatever you want," With a strong arm slipping around your waist, you felt almost shy at the way he smiled protectingly down at you. His warm breath ghosted about your ear, and his voice was above a whisper as he confessed. “because I-I-I finally got you princess and I'm not - I'm not going t-to let you go.”

At the sound of this pet name, you felt a slight warmth rush to your cheeks, but you didn't laugh it off as you had once but agreed with warmth. “You may do as you please, Mr. Sanchez.”

And so he did. Without hesitation, he lifted your chin and brushed your lips with his thumb. His eyes sparkling with humor, promise, and a confidence that was somehow so very appropriate on his face. "I love you. I-I-I always have. From the time I first held your hand, I knew it had to be you. I would've been a fool if I - if I hadn't tried. Even now, it's hard to believe, but it's starting to sink in."

"Me too. It's unbelievable, but it's true and we have the paperwork to prove it."

Leaning down, he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips. It was so gentle, it was as though you might break if he tried otherwise. Kissing you again, he sighed against your lips. "It's beautiful out t-tonight."

"It is."

Pressing a hand to his cheek, you softened. "But I think I'm ready to call it a night. Why don't we go in?"

Weaving his fingers with yours, he softened. "Okay."

You used to think to yourself and wonder if his house would ever be ready to receive you, but what you now realized was that it had always been ready, and only you had been waiting for it all to catch up; for him to know what he wanted and to be courageous and say; for you to know what you needed, and to accept that being yourself didn't make you any less attractive or unique and that you weren't alone; you had never been alone, for he had always been waiting. His home, why it was always home, but it was always home because he was what grounded you and you were what grounded him. And you felt so married to him then, and everything felt as it should. Nothing had really changed, except for a title, and a promise; for you two were friends as you had always been; him the happy go lucky old man, and you the silly neighbor who met him by accident, but you couldn't deny that you loved him with your entire being and so did he. As promised, he intended to do everything in his power to protect you, even as you two were getting ready for bed. His body seemed to curl around you as to shield you from whatever monsters could be hiding in the dark.

So, when it happened that you rested your head upon his chest and felt the temptation of sleep washing over you, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and confessed softly. "I can't wait to wake up next to you."

Fin

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #J19ζ7 #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #Rick and morty #Rnm #rnm fanfic #rnm fanfiction #rick and morty fanfiction #rick and morty fanfic #multi chapter #marriage #my fanfiction #my works #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfic

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kob131 · 4 years ago

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Oh and his ending, which is suppose to wrap all this up?

A. “They have the lamp that attracts Grimm, that won’t be masked by the Grimm! They’re so stupid!”

Fun Fact-When Ren and Jaune do their trick-It’s a split second so they can get in front of the Leviathan and Ruby can blast with her Silver Eyes.

“A pair of Manta aircraft are seen firing shots at the Leviathan. Suddenly, the Leviathan unleashes an energy beam attack from its mouth. It shifts the beam over to one of the poles powering the hard-light Dust barrier, destroying it. The Leviathan roars.

Ruby and her friends watch in horror from their aircraft.

Oscar: It tore straight through...!

Air Control: All squadrons, fall back to evacuation procedures. Disengage Leviathan! I repeat, disengage! Over!

Ruby: No, wait!Ruby runs up to the radio.

Qrow: Ruby!

Ruby: We can stop it!

Air Control: Who is this? Identify yourself!

Ruby: I'm a Huntress. My team and I are heading to the Leviathan and can weaken it for you to attack!

Everyone looks at Ruby in shock.

Jaune: We can?

Ruby: I can.

Maria: Ruby, when I said "trial by fire"--

Ruby: I did it at Beacon and at the farm.

Weiss: You really think you can do it now?

Ruby: I don't have a choice.

Air Control: Manta 5-1, your ship is currently flagged as hostile. You will receive no support, over.

Ruby: (picking up radio) Fine, we'll do it alone if we have to.

From her mech, Cordovin overhears Ruby's radio chatter.

Ruby: We can hit it while it's stopped at the next barrier. Ren, you're up!

Ren and Jaune proceed to combine their Semblances, masking the airship as it weaves between the air battles between Grimm and Atlas forces. The Leviathan makes its way to the next barrier and charges its energy breath again.

Qrow: We're too late! Pull up!

The Manta aircraft pulls up out of the way as the Leviathan fires its breath, destroying the next barrier and toppling a cupola off one of the buildings in Argus. Ren and Jaune collapse as their Auras are drained.’

The lamp wouldn’t matter. And it didn’t.

B. ‘Why is everyone shocked to hear Ruby suggesting to help? It’s sooo dumb!”

Wanna know why I gave so much context above? Because above- you see what FMF is referring to. ... Yeah, the shock wasn’t from deciding to help- It was from Ruby saying they can stall the Grimm.

So FMF just lied. Again. And used the commentary while misrepresenting the scene. Again.

C. ‘That’s what the Writers decide to remember? They talk as though the scenes Ruby referenced never happened!’

Yeah, remember what I said about FMF lying? Well, the commentary here isn’t edited over a scene from the show and look at the lines he choose-

‘I’m curious what the idea was, this is a pretty bold move right?’

“It came down to, they had to try.’

Doesn’t really should like they’re referring what was said right? And Kerry’s voice sounds different from how the other guy’s voice sounds like (as in, it’s as if Kerry’s voice doesn’t follow directly from what the other guy said). Considering that FMF has already lied in this segment- why should I trust that he didn’t just take a piece of the commentary out of context and sell it to an audience that buys outright lies?

Edit: Fun fact, I actually asked for a transcription of this part of the RWBY Volume 6 commentary and a user by the name of Changyuraptor did it for me.

Wanna see what was actually said here?

“Chris: "I'm curious what the idea was, like this is a pretty bold move right, like she had just not even 5 or 6 chapters ago talked to Maria about the concept of just using her silver eyes to begin with and she's looking at this massive Grimm."

Kerry: "It came back down to- there's actually some slightly different earlier versions of the speech that was a little bit different, but Miles was like (I think he's saying Miles' name here, not 100% sure) 'they have to try" you know, it doesn't look like anything else is working, if she can at least try and it works to any degree it's something you know, I think what was a bigger part of this message too is I think a lot of people probably would have told her not to do it but she needs to follow what she thinks is best."

They weren’t talking about Ruby’s idea specifically, nor is anything said here indicating they forgot anything.

In fact, he cuts off most of what was said (even cutting stuff said INBETWEEN what he used) JUST to make that point.

So yeah- definitive proof he lies using the commentary.

D. ‘Oh Atlas doesn’t want help after asking for help! How stupid!’

“Air Control: Who is this? Identify yourself!

Ruby: I'm a Huntress. My team and I are heading to the Leviathan and can weaken it for you to attack!

Air Control: Manta 5-1, your ship is currently flagged as hostile. You will receive no support, over.

Ruby: (picking up radio) Fine, we'll do it alone if we have to.”

Not what they said FMF.

Also he tries saying the group was surprised when Ruby said they helped when that’s NOT what she said. Again. So he made the same lie TWICE.

Also also, he misspelled Atlas as ‘Atlus’. As in, the SMT/Persona company. It would have even registered as an incorrect spelling when he made the spelling. This was a video in production over a YEAR.

E. ‘Atlas hates the idea of Huntsmen!’

*Shows Ironwood giving a bunch of teams the option to walk away from the Fall of Beacon*

That’s not even connected to anything here...well, here as in the review because this does reinforce the thematic idea the show presents that you should stand and fight.

... Did FMF just support Team RWBY’s stance in Volume 7?

F. ‘NO body would tell a Huntress to not save a town full of people!’

*looks over at the people calling Team RWBY stupid for trying to save all of Mantle in Volume 7*

Cool, now even his laziness is biting him in the ass.

G. “THIS FICTIONAL PERSON WANTED A HUNTRESS SO THE REAL PEOPLE WHO THE COMMENTARY IS REFERRING TO DON’T EXIST!”

Fuck, how does anyone take him seriously?

H. ‘DUr Atlas man being stupid!’

Oh so not backing up the STOLEN SHIP that was JUST IN A FIGHT WITH THEIR COMMANDER and NOT KNOWING THE PEOPLE ON BOARD PERSONALLY is stupid huh? He should just risk his men’s lives for an enemy that SAYS they can help but they don’t KNOW that.

Gee, what were you saying about logic again?

I. ‘Maria flies into a dangerous spot, so stupid!’

Gee, not like point blank range would be a good idea or that they were already on that course but that’d require FMF to not edit a scene to suit himself and we all know intellectual integrity is toxic to his very existence./s

J. ‘How do the shield generators get hit if the shields are up?’

*Shown: the shield generators NOT BEING BEHIND THE SHIELDS*

K. ‘Hey, why try to get it’s attention when you have lamp!’

*Episode 1: shows that a bunch of panicking people would attract the Grimm over the lamp*

L. ‘DUR, REN’S SEMBLANCE!’

*Shown: Ren’s AURA AKA SEMBLANCE FUEL SOURCE BREAKING*

M. ‘Ruby takes lamp despite distraction!’

Hm, gee, almost like her plan was to FREEZE the damn thing and it didn’t notice her even while flying around with the lamp.

N. ‘THEY FORGET LAMP WAS DANGEROUS BUT REMEMBER IT STOP TIME!’

*points above*

O. ‘DUR< MECH FIGHT ONLY STOPPED FINAL BATTLE FOR LESS TWO MINUTES!’

You know...and taking out the weapon made to kill the Grimm for a long period of time...and Cordovon’s actions SUMMONED the Grimm...and all the shields were down and the breath attack that could level half the city in one shot takes about five seconds to charge up.

Gosh, it’s almost like he relies on his audience not knowing any better...

P, ‘SALEM THINKS HER PROBLEM SOLVED WITH FLYING MONKEY WHICH COULD HAPPEN IN EPISODE 2!’

1. You cut out the WHOLE REST OF THE ARMY.

2. ‘Hazel: There's an old saying.

he two notice Hazel Rainart enter the room and stand next to them.

Hazel: If you want something done right... do it yourself.

Salem looks up to the army of Grimm she has gathered, before turning around and using her magic on the black pools again, engulfing the entire scene...’

3. Salem’s problem is the news Ozpin lived...delievered to her in Episode 4. Not Episode 2.

Q. ‘THEY GO TO ATLAS LIKE BAD MAN OZPIN SAY THEY DO! THEY NO QUESTION ANYTHING!’

Question.

What the fuck are they suppose to do?

Can’t wait anywhere, you yourself admitted that they showed the lamp attracted Grimm AND you never stopped bitching about Volume 5.

Vale is out.

Mistral is out, no Raven.

Vacuo is clear across the other side of Remnant.

Can’t even talk it out because people wouldn’t stop bitching about the talking in Volume 5.

You act like there’s any OTHER logical choice, FMF. Or that Ozpin’s lies would change ANYTHING about his decision about going to Atlas being bad.

But then again, that’d require your brain to function in regard to RWBY.

Then he goes on to say some shit about how everyone is just back to the way they are and how the Volume was pointless. I’d discuss that...but I want you to look at everything he said here. All the lying he did. All the suspect shit he pulled. All the crap he ignored. All the positions he abandoned in Volume 5 to bitch about here.

All the piss he spewed for nothing.

Look at this and think to yourself: Even if I saw the whole thing and heard his reasonings-

Would you believe a word he says?

I had to stop myself from wheezing I laughed at him so hard. This is the video equivalent of that drowning meme

He CREATED every single bit of his situation. He CHOSE to see things this way even after it took mental gynmastics to see it so.

It’s hilarious he acts like he’s in so much pain that HE INFLICTED TO HIMSELF.

I gave FMF a chance. His first point and his last point to impress me even a little. What did I get?

An ironic comedy routine that makes Beavis and Butt Head look like Steven Hawking.

#rwby #fatmanfalling

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jmcfarlane · 4 years ago

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DRONE3

DRONe3

.<0_O> — — µ — <_<)))) DRONe³ And other Poems and writings by James McFarlane Telepath/Necromancer James McFarlane·Friday, May 18, 2018 . Telepath may 2018 Pencil sharp, smoke a dart early morning engines start Crescent moon blue grass tunes frost on the window and my spoon. Dopamine and serotonin, pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life, on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. Train passing dread grasses, Sage burning sky lasting, electric currents flowing now, necromancer up and down, Dopamine and serotonin pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. -Seumas Necromancer May 2018 Floating wearily but in some comfort overhead. Making sheets move on my bed. Conversations in and out, speaking without our mouths. Blue fires light up your darkness please don’t ever find me as heartless I love you always one two three here’s the bass now jam with me Exhale eternally into the mic, angel choirs out on strike. Necromancer up and down, rein / radius across town, soon I will return with thee to this town/life Ville/vie. –Seumas (New Revisions) James McFarlane +Seamus to thee, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code DRONe -Seumas (James) Monday, February 22, 2016 OK thisone’s right off the wall: this is a strangely written and personal poem It’scalled “Siren heart Drone” (meant for a mature audience) A’ hem…. I’m nervous, I don’t freestyle often I wish there was a way to put this near the bottom of my timeline, it’ll be my latest and greatest lyric though, + POSETIVE INDUCTION — The positive attraction to your conductive psyche, is a form in itself existing in me, subjective almost ironically, the circuitry, being both electricity and imaginary cranked up high by your fun chemistry by way of the cerebral. (Which is flattering me) The circuitry with chemistry minus proximity, (causing a reaction deliberately) the electrical frequencies that you received from me were; artsy descriptions in accents I read. Other elements of me manifesting masculinity through my dorky frequency, gave off feedback that, officially; for me heralded the dawn of freed energy. So… metaphysical seed, dropped and sewn that day, (I guess what I am trying to say is): My girl my girl, don’t lie to me, oceans away your eyes can see, my bending sending light like this, in response to; the drone from your white laced lips. For the of lack of your treble and charge of your base, my “methadone”, White Light/White Heat, can take its place, anti-acidic mantra chi, surrounding me, a black dot in space. Divided by the curve encased, the metaphysical takes place. The fact that we’re in touch today, makes sirens blare and drones play, I’ll send this over right away, and then appropriately play, ‘beautiful face’ a newer way, I could elaborate for 3 straight days. Now what follows is what’s next on the fret board of your hex. It’s between, us; a fish out of net. So this will be all they get. ok here goes, ya, this is for the ladies in town I know that sounds weak but I blame the moons energy for you cute young women never being around when I finally spit the rhyme on solid ground, neway this is about you, you and the town where I choose, and choose to settle down instead of just stop swimming and drown, no more worries, no frowns, I’m gunna work it on out, cause I’m bound for the tides, not the sound, yea, ok, you know what I mean, yea k here I go, you ready? You steady? I stole the crown from the underground, I thought it would look nice with your gown, I’m upward bound so, are you down with my verbs and nouns? I don’t freestyle rap but this might as well be,flowin literally right now cause i come down hard with a sound that this new town including your highness have minds to breakdown, so get down breakdown, my chic mystique-psychologique will make you turn around and blush while your current boyfriends drunk on the ground cause he substitutes love with down, he doesn’t have an ear, genetically, to hear your siren sound for which I was born to kinetically harmonize, desensitize and heal your weary eyes. This is the treatment we need now ill even show you how, like a bow that goes up and down, helping us resonate these bloody strings, while the clipper ship sinks…… Sinks with the low tide.c’mon lets head home. The moons making my fire rise. That means soon it will be high tide, the ocean spray it stings my eyes, so let’s go inside, its morning time, look at color in the sky the sun is just about to rise. MY clipper ship’s on seas of rye. Empty bottles of scotch catch her in the eye. I’m not afraid of all those guys, they’re lucky they even have a sty. I’ve seen farms that would make you cry. These pale blue eyes are all but mine. And yours are like that brand of dye, that in our last summer together, we ALL tried, permanent like the purple in my mind’s eye or the in the dimly lit sky the night I officially died, all from a med, instead of one I took 10, benzodiazepines, all I wanted to do was compound the prescribed effect at the right dose they make a nervous wreck feel and appear normal so I took them, now I’m in debt, but only tried this cause u have me in check, ready to knock the crown off my head, make it your golden cauldron instead. You know I’m good with shocking steel and know how to forge blend anneal so this golden crown is probably real, and I assure u from the other room that it’s safe to use took a meal. Only cause it’s my deal I leave out the part about removing toxic alloys by melting steel, adding chemicals from the field and as the method never revealed used those same chemicals, that we all feel, all the time in our head to make tiny slow moving particles to turn make gold out of lead. So neways with confidence I said GO AHEAD! But I couldn’t lie to her, so I yelled from the other room, “u should know, that thing is gold but it use to be lead. She laughed, hesitated, placed the pewter cauldron on the stove instead and put the golden crown on her head. She finally walked down the hall and into her room where I was using dust pan and broom, she didn’t say nething, just got up on her bed which was shrouded with purple threads forgetting her glasses, still she picked up my book and read, I said here ill read aloud for you instead, within a few minutes of reading she started to turn red, the stove was on low so she got herself fed THAN served us both breakfast in bed. SUDDENLY I awake and see that we are parked at the end of a pier in some town in Quebec, I yell out stupidly from my stuper, WERE ON A PIER! She had good laugh about that occurrence on several occasions. but ya I took too many pills and was all sleepy on our road trip, all in all, yet again, I fed my head then lost all my cred, it being an accident, it made me sleep like the dead, that’s when I lost you, or you lost me, literally you looked everywhere and couldn’t find me, conscious or not, id soon figure id been stung by the bee, the most painful thing however, and my only memory was later that night when you were beside me, or was it he that got there before me, ok now I must stop and back up, the cheap words pouring from me, telling the details of this pathetic story it’s pissing me off, like losing the love of your life to a drug, and then officially to drugs plural, like 5 years of fucking up pretty much following this one night, the moment you realized you had lost the one girl, the one you compare every girlfriend you get ultimately fucking that up too, the one. its caused ache in whets left of my drug affected love starved blackened heart and caused my excellent poem to go right off the rails, so I’ll get on topic and ill even do it in rhyme, what inspires me to try to try, it’s the ache in my heart that is its key function now when I think of this girl and am reminded of the moment I lost her. ok here goes, regardless, we were in bed together, and from your sleepy head where your soul lies and you can never die, I heard your memories cry, and as I realized all the days I tried so hard to try but wouldn’t, couldn’t try and now I can’t cry is because I was always too shy in your unfulfilled eyes despite being my inspiration for the last 4 or 5 years of drugs and art with your recent if u can even call it that separation the focus intensifies about u and other girls like the sweet PortugueseIrish girl from the only psych ward I recommend at hotel diu in Kingston where I was actually treated properly (maybe cause it’s a catholic hospital, maybe cause I was so fucked up I appeared catatonic for days till this fox brought me down and romanced me for a month) she’s your competition….who contributed to my psychological cardiomyopathy however, a number of “the ones” but evenbefore that I was fucked up, I was the youngest psychiatric patient in Ontario or something, I learned how to smoke inside a smoking room in the shithole Scarborough grace when I was fifteen, I think I checked myself in hen I was twelve just to get away, that may have been what that asshole head of psychiatry was talking about. I also hit the highest highs, and the most demonic abysses of suicidal advanced psychotic depression, and took more abuse for it from nurses drs and the police, not to mention my family, but I still unconditionally love and am loved by my parents and grandparents, Jesus, I sacrificed my life and goals to save my families souls literally offed myself when I was 16 years old to end the devils elaborate foothold on me the people around the household appliances and machines, the behavior of living things the weather and the temperature of the room depending on my tortured state the only common theme is that others hurt and share it with me and my empathy kind of bounces back like an echo, I express and receive the grief while later, I only know this because when I fall, which I don’t do nemore thanks to medical science, its all about them.. but now this, she cried in her sleep and the only difference about these tears the ones that dried before her, is that the tears were for the two of us,not for being hurt but for me getting hurt and that hurt her, and it came out of her in a subconscious later state, kind of like me, this happened something like five years ago and it never gets old, ok , so here’s how THIS sad story goes; back to you, we were basically sleeping on the ground, I was tied up and bound, mothers little helper’s cheque bounced, I stupidly blame the devil in benzos but as of last Chinese new year I now denounce him, clonazepam is free from sin,(the cure), which I am resistant to so even though in the name of a better life I took 1/16th of an ounce I was still wide awake laying beside you, thinking only to myself about how I fucked up, it wasn’t even my own script at the time like u even need to know this it was a gift from the big Mc the tragically crip former editor in chief of legal manuscript, this bug makes the dj tick, and he made me, (sick) so (to this day I thank god for the count and amount per pill per day,,, throw your troubles away and pray that it was ok to stray from your holy bible, “psychology today”) So I was now bound for the pound, complete and total disgrace all around, from the moment u made that sound I knew our plans were going down that I would leave town, shoot smack and somehow return because YOU specifically gave the instruction to COME BACK! But things got whack I dropped out of school after taking philosophy which I passed, took drugs then relaxed let the nothing drone blare and move towards and away from the past managed to stay out of the psycho shack and somehow followed the chemical and psychological path out of the woods, fuck that was one long sidetrack, but it’s over, now, it took a year of wandering to end it but I did so…back before I initially left town your eye lids were down. I’d spent our whole friendship collectively letting you down by being ur favorite one in town and not responding in a way that could let us…. Fuck I was a clown,ever since I pulled a sigmen froid and used white to get off opiates it’s been renown but like the psychologist before me once declared, down (heroin) so satisfying in the right dose, has basically fulfilled their open ended prediction for the drugs future, in one shot like vaccine, the queen of all drugs, administered in the highest healthy dosage intravenously is the cure all found in Montreal, and then a deliberate clean cut from all non prescribed recreational narcotics, that is until the dreaded lady in white shows up on ur doorstep, I say let her in, and move away never to see her again, with the experience and satisfaction of the act of consuming heroin as your catalyst to change your life and only take clonazepam. So before all that we had a healthy friendship, it was doomed but I loved you so u kept me around and there was all sorts of ways we got down without ever fooling around except this time I discreetly describe further down when my phone ran out of batteries while you went to town , I thought I was a fuckin martyr because all id make u do is dance, that’s the gods truth so baaaack to me not being a creep, I geometrically see the opposing symmetrical verticy of our rhombus reveal its true ego as FUCKING TRAPAZOID when I hear your inner pain, I’m no hypnotist (yet) but u were zonked after a day of mosh pitting ultimately falling for the other guy, while I slept in the grass like an ASS. you let out a whimper in your sleep and two out of three of us knew, this chick is deep, from then on I took the title of weak, I had let my biological ancestors down with swords in their hands and in my hand your crown, and still I let you down, AND YOU STILL even tried several sexy and awkward times to make it happen and I let you down, u can tell a social disease when the same set of words are used multiple times to rhyme with other words that have that sound i.e. : I let you down. In that strange little town. It’s been well over a year and to end on a harmonious note after all this purple melancholy. I’m gunna say two words to you and they are not” “I do” It’sI’m sorry. I’m sorry lately for this poem, but mostly I’m sorry for not maturing into the man you thought I could be. I’m recovered from my early episodes now, took 16 years but I used the gear to properly hear and respond without fear, if only I did this within the time frame we had, Now were both sad. And I don’t wanna upset u, ur glowie or ur boyfriend or neone else, soo I’m gunna play a song, it’s called : one thing that keeps this black heart beating””(referring to my heart: that “upturned bass drum” The thing that keeps it beating is the dissonant and strangely beautiful siren song that echoes in my mind as the inspiration, “love” and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophies with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the momentmy phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche, at this moment I can prove using circumstantial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indecisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and physical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living things on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not necessarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings crescendos babies,, are when the energy isn’t circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, and the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, imparts her secret harbored denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, whether the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivotal form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense, my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misinterpreted until the last few seconds before the line went dead the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, literally loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symmetrically and quite similarly to your perfect face and body only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me, from the beach into the city, while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella, drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I stop, wait my energies charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged abilities that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit can’t explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery, the almost dead battery, poetic license and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, I’ve always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know threes more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours, in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, they knock me out, blow to the head, I’ll miss away you time instead, that lilliad inside your mind….it’s way too late you’re so unkind, but one important thing u need, to know I know u love to read, do not read too much to your seed, it makes a flower yer indeed, with pain killing power guaranteed, but this makes a subconscious need to find a source for output feed, destined to be completely freed ad finally have the urge to read, its therapy apparently, the experiment of reading aloud and they drift off on angels clouds, you think their gunna make you proud, well brace yourself, speakers are loud, they developed and were well endowed, language and its mystic power it not to be strewn on the flowers, this is my dependant variable, the words the use on me were terrible, a bird a seed knowledge unbearable, though every word is understandable, hypnotic methods subconscious dependable, lovely developmental psychology is the cause of my constant source of energy what I was born to do was reap, infinite knowledge in my sleep a steady drone of literature, I’m older now administer reality and life in place of shame rejection and disgrace, aside from my abilities that serve me independently, instinct survival evolution, speed all factors meant to help me breed, but would you read that to your seed, your surly growing potent weed, I’m not a normal human being I spend time speaking hearing seeing, proving while your disagreeing now the sheep are all fleeing, my purpose hear is slowly weaning I’m a negative source of positive energy, that means nothing drones glowies and friends that are enemies, all that I needs a path and an receiver, a sound to ride on, subwoofer and tweeters, it’s the music u shared with me that keeps me going The proof that our signal reached desired objectives, was clear to my ear which contained an elective, my minds using psychology to be less selective, behavioral science removes the block painlessly love, loss and malpractice grew my circuitry aimlessly, evolving survival instincts team with nature, my chemical background makes life like a phase, the instincts resulting are acute like a razor and amplified abilities through manipulating manipulative chemicals without wavers, resulting in behavior that can reach and amaze her… the extent of the damage is to be overlooked, by using knowledge and memory or reading a book design and time weren’t key features its transference of whines from student to teacher, let me out of detention you feminine creature ill read aloud it’s the right way to reach her, the demand and supply was shot at the sky and with lasers for eyes that reflect off her kind I was surprised to find that in no time I heard her wine, go out of her mind, and through her elective design I read junkie sublime and the fidelity was just fine for my desensitized mind. Literally proving her love up against my undying lazerlove therefore, proving that from that moment in time It was (now literally) one(the one) and another(me) falling “in love “officially identified by the subjective and objective forms that equal true love, for a time, which in rhyme and time I now feel it was divine, it’s began and ended in one harmonious line (in a Scottish accent no less) and buried in our minds getting weaker over time the signal is dying the whine and her trying has kept me flying farther away for lack of a sign that she was officially mine, but my nose it did grind on the stone learning life through the drone all on my own stealing crowns off of thrones, almost completely destroying my home, getting dipped in chrome, and then ground to the bone,, but that’s ok now because I how I know, I made her come through a phone, I’ve reaped what id sewn, now I am grown, with skills to hone no more wearing a cone, from the unknown to the known heralded by the morningdrone which is an inaudible tone interacting metaphysical rods and cones in my everlasting home among milestones made of greymatter behind bone in the form of the intangible moan that has royalties owned by the one xylophone a tone so foreign and feminine it may be that of a banshee or crone, the soil of my subconscious, is where I’ve been instructed and shown but my chance was blown there already something growin that knows the suns light is shown, now I’m alone, why did I buy that bus ticket when I could have flown. Another way of iterating this love story is an s follows introduction, obstruction instruction, induction, seduction production reduction destruction I’m trying to link two portions of this production, causing a reaction like a light turning on send notification from yin to yang (2 great friends of the opposite sex ultimately consummating their union in the way nature wanted it to be) but for us it was highly evolved in that even over the lo-fi filter of cell phones she was sending her love, whether she got off or not that id like ton know, but,, I got the drone of her during, (which if I’m not wrong is typically the main attraction for most women, their anatomy makes for a better “during” in her case conveniently, I’ll admit, without my flawed physical presence, I’m sure she didn’t just give up when my phone ran out of batteries, she was by the banks of her own lagoon, , the stimuli for me, the understanding an witnessing this correlative reaction, correlative because based on all the evidence, the great friendship which was WE were In Love,,,, that passes by my standard and I’m a philosophy grad, this Idea of me and this one girl being in love ISNT EVEN PRAGMATIC like most of my theories, the ONLY thing that get in the way of it being classified as nething between us other than, well I’m afraid to word it frankly because it makes y philosophy look dumb, the only factor threatening this TRUTH, this explainable objective form, is.. the time frame, the setting and the timing of the whole ordeal, my argument is that my reserved intense devotion that was pretty much spellbound, was appropriately (although delicately and let’s say modernly)relieved back to square one, literally and true even though it’s in the days ahead, metaphysic means dead.\\ I’m pretty lonely, so I make allot of art these days, like so; since she left me for dead and we both had left town, with thoughts of her crying asleep on the ground, my mind plays a drone, just to keep the pain down, it’s the girls very essence, oh to hear those pipes sound, if I was there this reel could have burned her house down, But our minds were both trying, Scottish lyrics I had, her bagpipes were sighing, and droning like mad, even though I was dying to get under her plaid, her fingers were flying and the lyrics were “rad the sound of her drones blared through the aero phones, I had broken a string and the bow had no rozen, but her body remembered what she had forgotten, string breaking caused her heat up and harden, this dissonant silence was her chance to depart from his flaws and his jigs and his odds and his rigs and ivy wrapped wand honey drippin upon this Venus in tartan who gushed forth the art of his masculine heart, the yin joins the yang and d string goes twang, The key that she played in was the string that I broke;I awoke in a doria mile off the coast. I swear by the sword of Ulysses and QueenMary’s crown you can’t quiet this siren when she fools around. Sending me to the moon and abyss on her sound It’s siren heart drone and that’s written in stone like I said, STELLAR, and you can TELLHER, most likely shell be a be a BETTER SPELLER, most likely ull say THE WORST THING EVER cause you’re a BULLSHIT SELLER, wave got mutual friends that FLOCK TOGETHER, social cannibals up shit creek FOREVER “sharp fanged teeth sheep” identified by Brethr in touch with friends of mine with FEATHERS, who govern karma AND THE WEATHER harmonizing OUR ENDEVOUR dissonance and TAKING PLEASURE in currents charged “+”, sea vessel PROPELLERS droning on for OH SWEET NEVER, nothing “like” inevitably BETTER the next “day, mon” frère, myself sharply dressed, a new pair of ‘GO GETTERS’ high, but fly, “the local YELLER” inscribes, as I dictate the true, (and prescribed), (in “”blood)-”LETER”! …BUY LETTER!”technique””’s psychology thesis of persuasion,-through love cure for; pain from shame stemming from taking the blame for the psychopaths that are perfectly sane who corporally, “embodying hells flames, wicked games to derange, the use of tools to cause pain, so the hands free to gain more control without shame ….and words that confuse and lead them in. vein cutting through lies and psychosomatic pain” making it rain your blood to put out the flames, an empty vessel that openly claims he righteously bears the right to OFFSET karma in his favorite time double negatives stuck on rewind with the fist or the tool of thing without mind, just current flowing into itself sustaining itself by shackling you with a voice that speaks truths that the vessel and devil greedily use to ultimately abduct you consume love your subconscious would refuse to give, to lose, so you wind kicking yourself while he rips on your soul defacing and displacing what’s left of you, what set you apart from a caved in shoe who’s uneven because the others got two, souls are unbreakable but if he breaks you, ill have the words the voice and the truth, the vessel in which to put soul into you, love and affection reflecting on you a new pair of shoes and so basically you feeling loved and in good mood no longer producing that parasite food, by walking and talking, souls in your shoes, while my bare feet support prescribed truth, a chemical network of mes and you ultimately held together with glue your love is the only way I can get through my psychological problems of which I have used to heat cook and serve us both food they drive me to supplementing love with miscues, attempts to draw a good picture of shoes, that drawn the attention of someone like you, or someone who offers a love I can’t refuse, because it me who also has many a bruise, the glue the chemical I trust and I use are prescribed and administered with bruit force and tools, leaving the chemically gifted unloved and unused and undone on the run with the songs you have sung, giving u satisfaction, and leaving u hung out to dry by the sick and the dumb, and the one, that u can give a gift to, is the only way we can say I love you and the fact that we are is what makes it true now I can scrape this shit right off your shoe, here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singing the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones too, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code,I’ll let the field talke care I m old, its time to end thiflodi broke the mouldand me with my everything about the shoe, its maker your sou out your soul leaving with bound by psychosocial with day moon SETTERS. home made psychopath GET ER, and lose her to a knitted SWEATER meant to the and if shit hits the fan in my house you become a fuckin CAVE DWELLER you officially for me heralded the dawn of freed energy so metaphysical seed dropped and sewn that day I guess what I a tying to say is seroquel can kill the day and lithium when charged can phase can kill your kidney and your craze over sirens who’ve been underground their perfect face and al around static in the air and sound of talismans and something foud induction tells you write this down what she conducts may flood the town, and this guythatts on the other line isn’t he a project of mine, sais nurse so cute and fine that flirt with my bipolar mind could his stimuli be cut, (if my nurse heard that shed bust my nut the think I’m guna get more worse nuclear winters parallel universe but bipolar ppls irony ill crack the joke an ice your nuclear explosion twice a day while I’m away leading weak dicks astray but giving your negative drones away the moans that I’m familiar with the point is I’m sick, was born with antennae metaphic that can even change channels like sappic girl on girl to girl on me altering duality and that what I get for free cable metaphysically so u better charge your battery, start the car pray she needs a guy with speed, instead of the duality of loving and love being received define love for me because lm low on batteries, finally the irony iron like steel I’m not even funny she gave me a drone that carried me home plate metal armor still that suckers dethroned all because of the ironic poem guaranteed to call my home circuitry and sacred tones, hooked up to my broke dying alone charge that she hears in my voice instinct are what’s the driving force to be my Venus in furs of course striking my eardrums while art of a new form could cure my heart, when deprivation and avant-garde combine to make things into art the the thing that makes drones stop and start my wordsandfingers take a form that independently grows horns, what an art to harmonize your frequencies with, smart, you dirty little butter tart you were supposed to cure my heart at least u got it throughtome you rising storm makes my anteenae start to channel lo-fi forms a and v imnow starting to clearly see I got to hear pure femininity express its love physically, while the ironic truth is easy to see, that my talisman masxulinity had no hand in physically and so my strengths like mediocrity, thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculine frequency that was enough to ride that came through the airwaves only a dined, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjectively means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite ur reaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely ur still a part of me, like the wasted energy of a missing battery that from within bears a charge, that was meant to be, the high voltage current, of hot energy. wat a grT TRIP THIS IS, ALTHOUGH ONG AND UNCOMFORTABLE AT LES I STILL HAVE ROCK AND ROLL AND BY DIVINE TIMING WE TOO A STROLL ADNTALKED A LITTLE THATS MY GOAL AND NOTHING DRONES AND HEAVY STONES WERE LEVITATED WITH THE MOAN OF SIRENSS BUT YOUR NOT A PHONE AND NO SUPRIZE CANT LEAVE ALONE OW I THRIV OFF DIAL TONED CAUSE IM DEPENDANT ON YOU STONE THE TALISMAN YOU CALL MY HHOME AND THAT TIE YOU CALLED ME ON THE PHON YOU WERE IN MY HEAD SAFE IN YOUR HOME BAD TIMING AND A HEAVY TONE BATTERIES DEAD: NOW WERE NOTHING DRONES…………………………………………………………….. thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculin frequency that was enough toride that came through the airwaves only a denied, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjective by means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite urreaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely Seroquel can ‘kill. The day’, and lithium (when charged) can phase, can kill your kidneys and your ‘“crazy” laser ray’s perspective.’ Meant for sirens, waves, underground stalactites, space, and drops of acid rain onto your base. Meant to cauterize with time and phase the straight; your sex, the Vikings take, and that edge they use to reap and waste. ((their secret way through; to slice through the glazed over passageway, that freezes waves of blood they made. Turned to crimson ice seen by my red hot rays, melt into salty ocean sprays) Then not so far away at night I kill the day and reap twilight, my heat turns from red to white like scars that weep acid rain despite my efforts, however insane, you do this over and over again) Relief; from emotional THEN/BY physical pain. In that order, we’re both deranged. here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singin the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’m tired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code, It’s meant for: a couple; of different: ppl 1 knø james ((pérsunµli); ‘(urThInKn èù¹d “Like¹¹ i+ Th0µGh))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ) — ¹o-² øØ³=FOUR!!!!!!!!²O_O³⁴!! (0_0)T0o?O_o)❤µ¼FOR¼ldd.”( þ+¹na!’(LOL!)?,X&Y” =ø(þ iN þÉd àvèç¹<>³µ)/(µø+þ²)ùþ³@ — ¹²³¹²³¹²³¹²³ James McFarlane• Ideas About mental Illness — James McFarlane Here’s my theory on paranoia. (Usually considered a negative symptom of psychosis) It can help gather information or misinform those who experience it. Even in wellness it is always potentially present in all of us. It’s a survival instinct. It makes us more attentive. My unique experience and understanding is when paranoia and other symptoms are present, heightened and amplified alertness to important information perceived by the senses is collected and whatever data is missing the brain either fills it in with logical thought or logical hallucination in some cases. I will further iterate this several ways for you to better grasp it. For most people there is so much excess data you wind up believing a falsity. Simple logic should let you know best which is most accurate among the extra data collected by suspicion, inner thoughts and hallucination ultimately fitting like Lego into the fractured “factual” data perceived. I believe mostly it is our internal sense of logic that is used to make hallucinations like dreams that appear similar to our regular reality. It is your sense of logic that determines how accurate the thought or hallucination might be compared to reality. It is hard to determine between reality and hallucination because hallucination adheres to reality. But if you can detect like in a lucid dream (aware of being in a dream) that it’s a hallucination you’re ok. It’s not that difficult to determine what thought or hallucination fits if you’re experiencing (or expecting) allot of symptoms having an automatic thought process that simplifies things by showing the most accurate possibility alone to the individual by involuntary thoughts and possibly hallucination. This can be a more accurate depiction of what’s not reachable by the actual senses. The point or idea is that hallucinations and involuntary thoughts mimic reality as best they can, so, they can be used to determine what is beyond our senses reach either corresponding with the senses themselves (hallucination) or through mind talk (which is the method that most mimics what we call telepathy and is much more controlled and has less effect on your behaviour and environment than hallucination). This mind talk or “intrusive thoughts” can be our sense of logic. It’s our sense of what’s real that makes up our involuntary thoughts and hallucinations so they’re may be an ounce or two of truth in them even though they aren’t real they can be identical ideas to what is really there. This is to be used for those who can’t see or hear what are out of reach of their senses like sonar or radar and further aid those who have and impairment or just want to experiment with extending their senses. This only applies to the unwell. Like I have said amphetamine could mimic the hypomanic state in regular people perhaps. This could be a tool for treating a range of mental disorders. Depression, lack of communication in certain critical mental conditions.(Alzheimer’s etc.) It’s not just guessing at involuntary thoughts and hallucinations, the tool combines accurate and distorted data collected by the senses. This extends the senses that help us try to understand. (Only some of us may have this as a mental pattern). You may be calling this a delusion well I call a delusion an idea. And remember, an idea can make the body including the brain do interesting things. Mono ideo dynamics Determining what’s real and what’s not isn’t a problem here, you know what’s a thought and an actual sound or hallucination when this is occurring so if they combine to make a more accurate awareness with good results than it doesn’t matter whether it’ telepathy or a mental tool isolated to the mind its generating data for the individual I assure you. Collecting data even from other people’s minds is definitely a factor in this theory (it’s a tangent but it’s important.) Involuntary thought is inner thought that appears to be info coming from an obvious source or other person. This is when the argument for delusion is most appropriate. Telepathy is a possible conclusion in the case of mind chatter or involuntary or external thoughts unlike ‘sense extension’ which is a potential tool involving similar aspects but also the actual environment. The mind to mind thing doesn’t involve physical reality like the sense extension theory which involves hearing and assuming all five senses if you were sick enough could improve the perception of our environment by way of hallucination corresponding with the senses, verses logical lingual additions to your line of thought (involuntary thoughts) which can be thought alone (mind talk) This opens a window to hybrid hearing combining involuntary thought with semi audible data, this was my first discovery and personal experience along the line of useful mental activity. So I would call it all external or involuntary mental data. The reason I included the telepathy as idea in this was because sense extension which may be provable is using the same material our thoughts are made of suggesting that the other ideas are worth experimenting with. I suggest mental information can be projected into the metaphysical reality affectively by a person just like shouting a person’s name. This is blatantly how it works from my perspective. What we imagine goes out into the air and some of us are there to hear it within our thoughts; mind chatter. Talking to yourself in your head as well as other transmissions or incoming additions. Not something we do all the time. Some people rarely do it or experience it. These are introspective expressions nevertheless they are the fabric of what sense extension involves. So if sense extension, (because it uses the senses, reality and hallucination/involuntary thought) can be tested and valuable info is collected from those tests, because of its use of involuntary thoughts which mimics telepathy, it could help prove or add merit to the idea of telepathy and its other explanations that are as follows. Proving telepathy involves seeing how things like sense extension is in the same weave as actual things we use or experience like thought, mental chatter, hallucination, dreams. This part of the universe is becoming objective when using a hybrid or functional form to better understand our surroundings. Just believing in these functions and experiencing them improves your regular perception and observational skills. These are hybrid metaphysical tools for perceiving your surroundings by use of hallucination and or thought and actual fractured data picked up by the senses. I tackle this mind chatter idea more so because it’s a solid symptom that doesn’t fail, like hallucination often does. Thoughts in the form of language coming from people around you or your multipersonalitied conscience is a good thing as long as it’s a good thing. When it no longer is in the range of being able to be used as a tool, these thoughts can be turned off or turned on by meds and belief or disbelief in the idea. But when it’s happening properly, like in hypomania, it does act as an aid in awareness of what’s most likely going on in other people’s thoughts. It informs you of the most likely thought usually in relation to you, aiding you every time by making you aware of something you didn’t know before. Word for word telepathy is a miracle, mental chatter that informs you of what’s most accurately going on in other people’s heads by way of involuntary lingual statements in the mind is not. It’s worth investigating, it’s a gift that has never led me to harm, only understanding. The fact that it’s in your head makes it a passive process where you have the option of responding or not, verbally or mentally if you’re a believer in telepathy. You can have communications, often in the form of mental lingual impressions from people around you, as long as their chattering in their heads. More often they respond verbally or through body language. (This could be also called a thought related delusion, and it probably is) Like sense extension it helps figure out without effort what’s most likely going on somewhere else but this involves getting a mental impression of what’s going on in someone else’s head and apparently only if It’s about you or directed to you, mostly. Telepathy and sense extension go hand in hand. What’s real and usable and what’s a symptom may need to be looked over and not just thrown in the isolation chamber. Mind chatter and thought insertion are two different things I think. Thought insertion means you think someone or something else is in your head and it is overwhelming. Mind chatter or “telepathy” follows a pattern of logic that is more precise than your own usually, it follows a rule, I am certain of it. That’s why it’s better to use cause it’s your intuition delivered lingualy. Thought insertion is like having someone else in control, whereas mind chatter is somewhat under control and mostly in your control as you are the experienced one. Involuntary thoughts (other people’s voices) could be telepathy and if it follows such a dynamic and structured law it should not be called thought insertion. Sense extension is something more practical and objective than telepathy type thinking, but it is untested and like I said, I deal with mind talk even when I am well and it is always accurate and helpful. The idea of partly using data from the peripheries of our trusted senses shows that these elements are not to be underrated or mislabelled. The fact that we can only see farther stars in the sky by looking off to the side is a great example of use of the peripheries of our senses. Similar is my experience of seeing peoples more true emotions on their faces when using peripheral vision. Is esp or just one example of a passive and informative hallucination? Let us not throw aside my interpretation of the experience of useful and unique mental activity by giving it the unattractive label of thought insertion when the fundamentals of these ideas may be useful for inventing evolution like tools to reach out into parts of the universe we have not yet studied. Distorted senses combined with an inherent logical thought process that is accurate if not pragmatic I my experience in every case. This could be an opportunity to reopen the study of parapsychology. (The fact that these are just an accurate perception mechanism is good enough). To reveal this delusion, we’ll assume all this is still only going on in one’s active imagination. However using a pattern of brain activity that mimics telepathy as a tool to read his/her environment better is cool; the only difference this has to sense extension is that there is no real life data involved. This in my opinion makes it the most commonly used and confronted with, solid, and most effective tool I deal with. (even when well) There are practices like muscle reading which is getting data through seeing a person’s movement that are examples of a semi proven method that mimic things like telepathy. I propose mental activities that are involuntary and positive like some of the symptoms of a mental illness, could be used as a link between what we see as dysfunctional mental activity and a breakthrough into the endeavour to prove that thoughts are part of our dynamic world as a form and can be used as a medical or social tool. This mental activity in serious cases of unwellness can alter the way we operate, not just the way we think. Paranoia could take over and it could be false data, and the repercussions could crescendo. In their reality and in reality itself. I say listening to your thoughts (whatever form they take) and interpreting them, it’s safer than experimenting with hallucination because mind chatter can be a factor in hypomania and in wellness. Only in the case of hallucination being used in a controlled environment with positive energy being present, for instance with a schizophrenic, they can be very well while hallucinations are still present. If in that state the hallucination tends follow what the senses are trying to perceive and use a situation like the sense extension experiment involving hallucination and obstructed hearing it may prove to be a good tool/idea possibly for aiding the hearing impaired in this situation or a similar situation that works. It could work because it could fill in more data where it was lacking and it may inherently be attempting to be accurate. This attempt is evident in other mental processes mentioned here. In the case of experimenting with this type of thing never should you be depressed manic, psychotic or over whelmed with psychological issues. If you are in an unwell state seek help, but be open to the new ideas that may present themselves to you. Know that the brain is elastic and does heal. The hippocampus and you are always growing. If it’s suggesting that its telepathy aiding us and guiding us that makes you sceptical I’m not going to just drop it. Be pragmatic and get a bit more insight into how it worked for me. First off, all that makes it telepathy as I’ve said is that it only involves thought. One thing that suggests that it is a thought from another source is the amount of unusable but accurate information that comes along with these seemingly incoming transmissions. It behaves like a mental environment that doesn’t involve just you; the metaphysical plain. You mostly hear in your thoughts what applies to you from those around you but there is other mental exclamations at times coming from different sources for different destinations, or in most cases mental exclamations just for themselves. Also getting an involuntary thought of apparently what is being said somewhere completely out of reach of the senses is a factor here. This is bigger than the structure of telepathy. If you are being talked about in the other room the brain informs you of it and who is saying it, this is clearly a survival instinct to gain intelligence of what may be out there and what most likely is, this type of sense may be evidently seen and utilized more by animals than humans. Probably because of the invention of language, putting the sense in recession. These ideas suggest that the metephysical plain is not just in my head but is there for everybody (and that privacy may be an issue.) The experienced and well user of the mental functions could actually receive and send out positive and effective transmissions with a ripple effect, real or not. (for what it’s worth, even to gain confidence and boost chemicals, respond and react accordingly to these transmissions and you’ll find it fits and improves your presence and role in the situation, that’s my experience) while the sick are just spiralling and not even communicating because their usually using negative or confusing behaviour or energy. What’s also evident of its existence is the obviousness the transmissions go both ways. I’m not just getting your impression of me in my thoughts; it’s obvious you’re getting mine. Its conjoint mental activity. It involves everyone but I think it requires a guide. If these are just symptoms, they rarely intensify and do dissipate more or less with wellness. I say if it’s not the metaphysical plain it’s at least explained by two minds appearing to correspond by (often coincidentally) one playing out the others activity as accurately as it can within the mind. This as a law would be evident enough to prove telepathy. I see a constant pattern in when the transmitters communicate, that they are thinking that thought and responding to one another (seen though body language and verbal responses. That’s telepathy like activity rationalised. It’s not always word for word because often I ask and they say no I did not think those words. Apparently it’s a mental impression of yourself delivered in the form of verbal thoughts or inaudible expressions from other people in the vicinity or elsewhere. Finally the hybrid hearing idea.The most effective and safe of the ideas here. (Thought and hearing mixed) It would be hard to disprove because of a lack of qualified candidates and the scenarios required. The hybrid hearing idea like I’ve said is not activity isolated only to thought, but the idea that involves using factual data and the imaginary simultaneously. Sense extension without hallucination. Deciphering between actual sense and involuntary thought is easy, you know what you hear and what you think, they become conjoint in some mental states indicating that the possibility of an extension “fill in the blacks” scenario. Know that this involves either an overactive imagination. The logical involuntary lingual thought mental activity combined with the brains attempt to hear the less audible is a marriage that could create the extension of the impaired or out of reach sense (hearing in this case) What I propose is happening here may be hearing the bass of a conversation because bass carries farther, and your mind places the other frequencies (treble) in the form of an involuntary imaginary sound. I suggest this is too intricate and accurate to be delusion. To actually be aware of the volume according to the distance or nature of the info that comes from not the unknown but an obvious source is evident of that intricacy. The psychotic skills talked about here are among the skills we’re all born with. All humans are capable of psychosis. Which is the foundation of these things. I just find mania to be safe, similar and more of an advantage. Our brains and beings all have an inner need and desire to figure out what is reality. Even when that reality is obstructed, it uses other means to get around to perceiving the world correctly. This line of thought has the potential to be a step forward in changing others view of these symptoms. To suggest that they are meant to be enhance to our advantage, not abolished; this is the stuff of change at an evolutionary level because as I said earlier it does involve everybody and anybody. The Chemically Endowed / THE HEALTH SYSTEM James McFarlane June 1st, 2016 Mania is the increasing of one’s “reward” chemicals in the brain chronically (a symptom of Bipolar). A fact about mania is that it is not so often as out of control as we are tempted to assume. We don’t know the limits it can push positive wise. A negative aspect is surely something that we have seen occasionally. An example could be a world leader like Alexander the great. On the positive side of it are people like Van Gough and many other artists, teachers and authors. Making tireless efforts at just causes inspired by epiphany is just one of the activities a bipolar individual has the option of pursuing. (Sometimes with phenomenal results) This can be a positive activity of the broad ranged individual. Mania is an abundant source of potential positive energy. The mythical Greek god Dionysus has been called the god of mania. He partied allot and was the estranged son of Zeus. There were cults formed in his honor and the remanence of them still exist today as a common and highly manipulated, manipulative tradition known as the entertainment industry. Antianxietys, antidepressants, antipsychotics and mood stabilizers; drugs that (have attributes that researchers have neglected to even identify) help and plague the bipolar individual as the most commonly used tool to ward off symptoms. In some cases, recreational drugs like amphetamine ((that seem to force up the mood of an individual) among drugs that are normally oriented with unwellness)) I suggest, could be a surprising aid in speeding up the recovery process of depression (the opposing symptom in bipolar to mania which have psychosis as a common theme at the peripheries of both poles of experience) through cognitive stimulation. This is important because antidepressants take several weeks to take effect and suicide could be prevented by the induction of a more open approach to medical uses of recreational drugs. This activity should be combined with social interaction in the case of recovery because it surrounds the recovery of the social aspects of the self (I do not recommend this as the first option for a recovery process). Like most drugs this behavior may take years off the recovery process but could wind up taking years off your life. If closely watched and tested the medicinal benefits of illegal or unreaserched drugs as well as further data released on drugs in general and their common circumstances may be a great stride in the remedy of mental, psychological conditions and social misconceptions which solutions are still being put off by ignorance of the populous and adverse political agendas. Other treatment options not listed above include electroshock therapy and psychical exercises like cognitive behavioural therapy. These alternatives are used less most likely because pharmaceuticals are a huge part of controlling the populous and funding corporations and government. However, a regimented combination of any of these factors could be a breakthrough for some. Called “consumers” by people that work in the pharmaceutical industry, these human beings endowed with seemingly new chemicular behaviors have a heavy cross to bear. I believe that it is obviously possible that over half the population (just to be fair) are born chemically inclined, but forced under the heel of the majority of the others who are from my perspective, psychologically twisted by ignorance, power over the sick, and unjustified behaviour based (((most likely (just to be fair) for some, subconsciously))) on either inherent or just blatant jealousy. I say this because the majority of people in a position of dominance in our society, (security guards, nurses, the police, doctors what have you) are brutally unfair, unprofessional, and ignorant in most cases. This attitude fuels the biggest and oldest and crudest intolerance ever committed by one group against its own people. The mentally endowed verses the psychologically twisted and everyone in between or strung along is the latest and oldest injustice I can see other than the genocide of the shamanistic cultures of north and south America. The most obviously funded sick lack of justice and care for their own counterpart (ever challenged till present day) by a government is currently at hand. It’s a matter of time and interest among corporations. Their need for money will guarantee that the proper drugs will be the end of this problem. Their survival as a business is the only co-dependent factor for the cause. Once the sick become well, ((the inevitable outcome (already achieved)) the drugs will be reinvented a few times ultimately plateauing as a renewable idea by these scientific salesman and their evil subordinates running the place like some kind of sick joke to themselves. Those who wield tools and permission to inflict pain, bondage and any form of abuse they find delectable simply to put off paperwork (and sooth their own often nocturnal boredom) only assigned to be used in the inevitable malpractice suits soon to be ensued by the just with the just against the corrupt. With blunt force and jealousy against their only threat and reliable witness to the sick twisted 24 hour a day fetish of legally and illegally taking the rights and freedoms and everything that makes life desirable from the ill to make way for a prolonged treatment of abuse and betrayal from the psychologically bent nurses and security guards, doctors, police not to forget your everyday sociopath / psychopath walking the streets and perverting the direction and attention of the staff and patients of mental health wings across the country (Canada). Folks like these who lack the basic right and wrong skills, used obviously and openly by the sick and the meek to inevitably over throw the ranks of sociopaths and psychopaths governing, misusing and perverting the writing of history. All of their efforts put into this “note taking” endeavour to be rewarded with indulgence into the sick pleasures of a dysfunctional beauracracy and political disgrace to be. As for the sick, (and well) the neglect of one’s health and deterioration of relationships is often inevitable during episodes and when being forced against such characters mentioned above. These new victims often leaving the institution with their own newly afflicted psychological scars. This is understandable considering how different and under informed the external world and the unbalanced individual usually are. The unwell individual tends to get overwhelmed with heightened and distorted perception, and the outside worlds clashes with their reality. Inevitably against their will, (usually after lots of experience) and sadly, many forms of legalized abuse from the system that seems to be above all law, they become accustomed to the system and more knowledgeable about medication. This is the only way I’ve seen someone become well, for longer. It’s important to channel the knowledge from their experience into productive endeavours. This is the exceptional goal. Chemicals are a big part of the inclined individual’s life (Pharmaceutical, natural and usually recreational). Often enough a well-balanced person emerges but the fight against unwellness and addiction is ongoing for many. Even once well, the psychological challenges of adjusting to life can set in. Thankfully this is also treatable either with anxiety medicine or therapy (or in the case of the Canadian health system, prolonged and tormenting hospital stays crudely striped with prolonged bondage and isolation chambers. Psychology being the completely unfunded and rightful alternative. Wellness comes with time and knowledge as well as trial and error. The potential experience for these individuals is more than the average prescription. Logically and philosophically looking at these problems is key to understanding them. Stigma; it’s a thing like racism that is rampant in every culture today but especially in western culture apparently. A mild example of stigma is using a negative label or misconception such as “split personality” or “psycho”. These are words attached to now folklore, lies and misunderstanding so this ignorance is apparently the first thing to go. In the case of bipolars, it is often amplified social ability versus depression or other emotional states that is confused with complete loss of judgement. Schizophrenics seem to have an even keel in terms of personality in most cases. I know there is no mood disorder but full on hallucinations. This could be due to an unexplained increased constant source of dopamine in their system I suggest gets used to produce complex distractions that could be used to their own advantage, like poetry etc.. (Unproven connection) The biggest problem is the assumption our government and citizens have; that the mentally ill are violent. This ultimately subjects us to being treated like escaped zoo animals by every authority figure you can think of. This is how they legally get us into straps; the word violent. This word can be used in ways it shouldn’t which is often the case. Once declared violent and mentally ill you’re bound for a living hell most likely for quite some time. All the ugly side effects of the system itself leave you psychologically damaged. You get a fate worse than prison by far, especially if you’re rebellious. I have rarely if ever have seen an act of violence towards another from a person that lives in a society that has them already sedated, and threatened by fearful ignorant authority figures with shackles, tasers, injections and cruelty in general at the ready. I’ve mostly seen vigilance or peaceful protest in those in an unwell state, simply because they have the logic to see what they’re up against. We’ve seen this all our lives. Even those who fight back really never had a chance to show that they meant no harm. I say this because our common goal as this type of person is to be understood. While up against a mass of smug sociopath liars who are constantly projecting joyously in groups that we’re mentally incompetent and incapable. This whole thing makes me want to kick an isolation room wall in and pull out the insulation over and over again. That type of treatment on that scale and for that length of time inspires anger in the most emotionally controlled of individuals. This type of passive brutality cannot be easily understood by people who are on a regular level of unchanging dopamine and serotonin. Basically, it is those who are in control and uninformed that are inevitably inflicted with the stigma for mental illness otherwise these are used as tools by the PhDs that as of late have the audacity to wield side effects deceptively like better acting medication (as well as transference upon their staff). Mania is a powerful source of energy. Success of any kind is a possibility with people that have the genetic makeup of the bipolar individual and quite possibly the schizophrenic and schizoaffective system casualties. Most who blindly submit are in a sedated or in a financially constricted reality for most of their lives. However massive bodies of work that gain quality over time with practice are usually seen with all types of mentally ill individuals. Productivity is a given with excess energy and hopefully with excess dopamine. This is something the bipolar individual has at their disposal. (The excess dopamine, like I stated earlier, being the undiscovered advantage for schizophrenic and hybrid diagnosis individuals). If psychological ailment is part of ones developmental makeup, seek help through private practices in your nearest large city center, like psychologist offices, astrological predictions or the cheaper alternative; fortune cookies. ((all systems more trustable than the political money grab being masqueraded by the Canadian government and god knows where)). Hobbies will get lots of attention and skills like writing will be improved for most. Phenomenal ideas and activities must be given attention. It must come from a desire to be appreciated in a world that sees them as useless and treated as such as well as resentment for the genetic advantage and the mitochondrial patterns I will stipulate below. First off I am compelled to write; things like physical agility are improved as well when new energy comes along. Now, the organelle mitochondria in animal cells produces energy for the cell. Like the patterns of the near solar system and probably menstrual cycles and similar monthly patterns recorded to date, all of these cells (differing by their design) work as groups. Most likely shifting by the behavior and the pressures of the environment and or the environments one is involved with as well as (chiefly) the positive verses negative intentions or energy put forth. The positive being more strong and more apt to gaining velocity compared to negative endeavours while the ignorant become subjected to rapid, (fuelled by culture and social upheaval) evolutionary de-emphasis. Tradition will save many who are open minded. It has been theorized that a person who inherits the bipolar gene may have abnormal mitochondrial activity. I reiterate that this would cause fluctuating energy production for the whole body and possibly more so for the brain, ultimately spiking or dropping essential consciousness related chemicals like serotonin and dopamine. Mainly above the baseline of level as far as positive living goes indicating that it’s an innovative evolutionary trait. (These chemicals and the proper medicine are prime factors for the bipolars however independent) the natural chemicals)) These are known simply as chemicals that affect our mood. Or sometimes referred to as (and in everyone’s experience) reward chemicals (endorphins) and oxytocin (the love chemical). The mitochondrial theories as well as more psychological rather than biological theories (i.e. “mono-ideo dynamics”) are unproven. (most called into question more than 100 years ago left unelaborated but proposing a hypothesis unfinished on purpose, ie. Mono-ideo dynamics meaning that an idea can make the body do anything the body is capable of to the peripheries, any part of the body. The “any” part of course cautiously suggesting the brain) The future of mental health I would say is the extensive categorizing of the dosage and drug or treatment in relation to different types of people or circumstances. (i.e. more than 10 conditions, more like a dictionary of conditions to be) Also, once the medical scam plateaus (due to actual research and political attention) psychology as a treatment method will be implemented beyond nurses attempting some form of cognitive behavioral therapy. It is those employed to work with the mentally ill and the graduates of psychology or related studies who must insist on more data collection and way more research into the possibilities the mind itself can offer in medical treatment of all illness. It occurs to me now obviously that psych has been previously placed on the priority list as secondary to the drug trade and religion so to gain funding for an renewable priceless trade like deduction of illogical pursuits and outcomes. (A basic form of psychology that should aid dangerous things like delusion and the laws of attraction). Psychology research mut be put on the forefront so we can get meds chosen, dosages corrected and diagnoses discovered and made faster and more accurately. (And produce more jobs in all levels of the field of medicine) It’s a century old marriage and divorce between medicine, and free will. Psychology should be treated as equally as important as medicine as it is half the battle against corruption of our society, ecosystem and those who inhabit it. Back to the original induction and pragmatic endeavour of self controlling mental chemicals that have their own agenda, or the agenda of the moon and the weather; the social activities of a manic person can be difficult to put up with for others because it’s constant and overbearing at times. This factor most likely is being brought up because of my experience with passive aggressive tendencies. What is interesting is that it can stimulate chemicals in people around the source (more importantly I say between couples). Basic emotional chemicals like endorphins and oxytocin (excitement, survival and `love` related chemicals in any order) can be increased in other people at higher than normal rates and levels (not to mention the freed individual themselves). These chemicals can be a blissful and natural human experience when people are close to one another. This can be achieved through stylized communication between persons. In cases of manic people with other manic people; it’s a vibrant social atmosphere. It’s manifesting the inner emotion or thought into reality or more commonly manifesting it into iteration. In any case one can activate the other pretty easily without consumption of any substance. Any communication and body language is the stimulation factor here when differing types of people get together. This is what psychology is; ‘Behaviour changing chemicals, changing environment’. Boring and seemingly opposing efforts is also a common occurrence because it’s hard to stay positive for most and for those around them because, it’s been a long battle and opposites attract. Phrases like that as well as phrasing like “everybody’s different” is an indication that intellect and work ethic are also independent factors essential to the coexisting of partners in general. The state best to experiment in as far as is hypomania (medium mania) or even just wellness. Ways to activate a slow rise in your serotonin level if you’re not bipolar would be using a mild stimulant like amphetamine (Dexedrine). This is not something to try on your own. I’m suggesting this to be a carefully overseen test involving chemicals that are dangerous to be used in excess and for prolonged periods of time. If you become manic, know that once your manic states have passed and you’re well you still possess the ability to partake in and test different psychological and parapsychological activities (it does stay with you and up to date). One thing to discover while well is that a person can up their brain’s chemicals at will without the use of drugs, rather, behaviour or behavioural exercises. Once you’ve done that and or submitted to the opposing factors of the weaker you are both freed. This has been going on for billions of years in many forms. Dancing, sex, geometry, sensory deprivation (like vision quests or modern culture traditions) gaining knowledge about the earth from the stars, cultural and group oriented endeavours like art or chemical revolution (i.e. drugs rock and roll all stimulate the body chakras as well as the earth’s). Other theories basically thrown around by the wiser of the eastern west in the form of literature or poetry comes to mind, like; “electricity comes from other planets”, in relation to mono-ideo dynamics in relation to bipolars and nature; “The Gift” etc. (The Velvet Underground, 1969). All of these “foggy notions” are there for usually the reason they’re being inspired, meaning put art intentions and science together and you’ve got something good. Unless you succumb to the marketplace. Only drugs inspire chemicals on command without the need for circumstance (this is a modern cultural tradition). The nature of mania is that you become ‘antennae’ of sorts that more easily gathers information. It’s up to you what you do with your energy or your manic that turns the tides in your favour. Your perception may be higher in this state, but there (as always) is; a down side of it as there is duality in all things in nature. Psychosis depression and psychological problems plague the inexperienced young bipolar individual’s lives until an effective treatment plan is accepted or forced on them. Other ways to cushion this (and to avoid too many episodes) is complying with treatment plans to your liking and staying away from recreational drugs for the most part. Or rather, opposing and cheating the laws of the flawed marketplace. The process as a whole is always a learning experience for most. For sure, unbalanced brains are the next step in biological evolution. The union of the mind and body, the relationship between the physical and metaphysical, and how human culture is merged with the ethereal will occur along with the reopening of the practices originating from primitive psychology like the agenda of the heavenly bodies of fire above. Victim Psychology One thing I have realized over the past many years is that there are two kinds of people in the world; the aggressors and the passive. Like the chimps and the bonobos, the psychopaths and the victimized, the sociopath and the weary guardian, the farmer and the farm animal, the nurse and the sickly the dominant prey upon the weak. I have found the sociopath to be friendly and the psychopath to be gentlemanly and wise at times. This does not condone they’re compulsive destructive social and physical abuse that they inflict upon they’re victims. A psychopath is someone who enjoys committing violence upon another. A sociopath is one who has no care for the wellbeing of others. This is rampant in modern Canadian livelihood. One other thing I’ve noticed about aggressors is that they go in and out of remission. (Which is cooperative behavior) A volatile destruction of one’s trust of others and distorting of one’s actions that is prevalent in victims is sexual abuse of the young and old alike. Next to physical assault it’s the most reactive and high profile to this day of violations of another person therefore it falls in the category of psychopathy from what I can see because of its physical and emotional impact. Victims carry on in public, say profoundly erratic and shocking statements, take up malevolence for those who stand by them and seek a vengeance that has no sympathy in any circumstance against theirs and other persons abusers. Their paranoia fuelles the problem of wrongful accusation cases ongoingly across the board. Usually a current abuser is in the background with these cases fuelling the fire while the victim holds out for some kind of mercy or justice. Wife beating and general abuse of children and animals are the most haness and hated by the public and the spectrum of victims in this country. (Canada) Sexual abuse is the most widely discussed and concerning of abusive behaviors towards humanity, (to the point that it’s an ongoing obsession and topic in the daily conversation in a conflictive situation between persons and within groups of all sizes) breeds decay within the psychological health of the groups themselves(like paranoia to a schitsophrenic) and they revel in it, abusers and all. All the power to the victims for their enthusiasm, but to reiterate what I wrote above, these actions are somewhat on occasion either false puppetry put on by the victim’s close and currently occupied as; violator, or by bystanders who just want a show or to gossip. The falsity and sadly sociopathic act of ‘fish netting’ just about every oddball as a possible suspect of these lowly behaviors is very common in today’s society. However, I have realized that their paranoia is justified by the number of women beating and sexual abuse cases showing up as a reality today and that there is a correlation with the amount of homosexuals that are violently “in the closet” who turn up in our courts and also who don’t (mainly due to victims trying to hold their lives together). Can this be explained by ethnicity clashes? Gangs?Terrorism?Languages? Why this correlation? Is it obviously connected to what was formerly seen as perversion, homosexuality, as a factor in these broken homes. Just because by my census in northern Ontario found that heterosexuality was a minority here and that the abuse rate changed for the worse shows that it is possibly a correlation. How long has this been going on? I find that these men need to use women as a shield, a sexual punching bag that’s worth no more than a cheap roast beef. This is a new social disease. Not homosexuality, but the act of taking a mate of the sex you aren’t interested in for personal gain. The action of these men is typical abuse and the women go on destroying their psychological health through these empty relationships. This one (me) who is looking for a healthy relationship feels ripped off however the sociopathic women choose their life like dolls instead. While the jails hold the psychopaths. The police jail and court workers go on with their corrupt behavior in our region. It’s that that continues to choke our young women into a compromise. They are a social disease, we are under siege from sick nations and countries and our men are allowing our women and children to fall by the wayside to make room for more homosexual dominance. It’s time to liberate the inflicted to avoid more people crossing over to psychological toxicity. As these victims start to depreciate into self destructing and outwardly destructive tendencies. Psychologists must prescribe and teach like never before in this age of lies, abuse and corruption. LO-FI Music Explained JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 LO-FI MUSIC EXPLAINED The additional distorted data collected from the peripheries of our senses deliberately recreated and reproduced by means of adverse, outdated and unintentionally altered technology and style. Recorded or preformed ideally in the form of what we know as music and or film. broken record? More like audible snowflake. The geometry of nature get betrayed and expands when recording art under predetermined and active circumstances at the whim of the conditions of the environment and it’s setbacks. LO-FI Music/Media is the effect that the decay of our technology has on the pristine conditions in which we perform and record our visual and audible experience and the deliberate recreation and reproduction of these anomalies. Atonally thrusting forth with a foggy notion that these new audio and visual recordings of patterns that emerge from the more primitive forms of technology over time vaguely and remarkably respond to and compliment the setting of the reality intentionally being recorded on an almost conscious level. The question of how to activate them and where hey come from arises when artists of our own age with a knowledge of the recent technological and cultural past attempt the avantgard. Using predominantly analogue and traditional technology affected by time itself that we can alter ourselves in combined with natural (random) rate, voltage, velocity selection what have you to reproduce art AND what the ultimate effect of the recording process has on these works of avantgard art is the idea behind and the method LO-FI Music/Media. -James McFarlane (Seamus) I blew up Einsteins theory on insanity — James McFarlane (Seumas) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 Einstein said that the definition of insanity was repeating ones actions over and over again, expecting different results. I say that this behavior is far from insane. It is the fundamental law of how our development, bodies, daily lives, cultural traditions, reproduction, evolution and solar systems function. When looked at closely we see that even the most repetitious behavior is constantly changing at various rates. This is a law in all things in our universe therefore nothing ever really repeats itself. Rotations beautifully exist in nature and follow an imperfect geometry that we mimic in our cultures according the the schedules of the massive bodies above. Rock and roll, like opium or the moon have differing effects on the geometric patterns of our lives and evolution. Some rock an roll music by use of musical instruments (science) has combined the harmony of natures repetitious behavior (the drone) with the ever changing distortion factors like; time, mass, pitch and amplitude that are essential and fundamental to the evolutionary principle of repetitious behavior. Its the repetition that is the foundation we stand on, as long as your standing on it, expect something new to come about. Simply our presence in a scenario changes the physical and metaphysical environment at some rate, its our behavior and descisions that change that rate what manifests as the artwork or reality. — James McFarlane (Seumas) lyrics — James McFarlane (Seamus(Substreet Drones)) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 NEW — weird song (2016) the reaper, put the beat on hold, bones dug up just like the sunflowers in the snow, now deeper into the river of sight, if you go in that cave dont turn out the light, white light shines bright, no stars tonight, behind the vox stack, their singin heart is black, subwayswhislting over my head, thank god i climbed aboard instead, reap what you sew 4x (coda) Heart is black ive been had (ive been had) ive gone mad (ive gone mad) ths is war, (this is war) i told you all this before i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, heart is black face the facts, art is black, oohicant stay, (ooh icant stay) cant go your way, (cant go your way) i felt you sweet smack, Your smoke is black (smoke is black) i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, Beautiful face she thinks shes alright, butshes out of sight, swim in for a bite, underneath the white light, thining of fashons, and still looking smashing appealing to fools, out of all kinds of schools, lo frequency base, mixed with the acid taste, no it couldnt compare, to your beautiful face. you left a hole in my chest, a better shot than the rest, do you have five minutes, for a warhol screen test, at dawn i see a star burning not lie the rest, cant help but sit and wonder where its going next 4x cant help but sit and wonder where shes going next 4x Blue Haired BelleBlue Haired Belle, hangs around the gates of hellMorning stars get lost, in the flow of your blue sky locksDon’t despair, you’ve been on a track please take care, Come fly with me, its your blue sky that’s pure dont you see. Its alright You, me , everybody,we, see, only moonbeams,comets not so high,eathquakes in the sky,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright, You light the way, through tunnels, try not the scrape, the gunnels,on the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timeon the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timelalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalaooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaoooooo Main Street When you called me up hereIdidnt feel like walkin, Now your sayin to me,youdidnt feel like talkinwhy are we so clumsy,so clumsy with our breadnow you tell me honey, how you keep your stomach fed, always lending yourself out, to the freaks that dot our lives,honey when you gunna shout, at those drones in out beehive,take a walk uptown, to the bucket where they drown,gunna tell them when they get out,to get theiur handouts downtown MorningAt the dawn of a new age,Sun comes up, smell the burning sage,take a step foreward, turn the pagesay goodbye to all those dark dark days, MAking a brew I stare a the fire,stir the pot, and then connect the wires,turn on the amp, the music inspires,got to free my mind from all the cheats and all the liars. Morningdrone You, you know what I mean, when isay,that nothings gunna happen today,and you, you know what imean,wheni tell you it’s just not my scene, you, yeees you, what the hell are we gunnado?and you, the only one you listen to, is a man, by the name of, Lou. We, yeees us three, could make it at a defferentpace,I, know that, it’s a discrace, Lord, take us to another place, So grab your stuff, your record albums,you take the wine, and ill take the guns, and into the ocean, we will go, cause you know, were headed, for the coast,so raise up your glasses, for a toast,ha, which one of us can drink the most,the father, theson, or the holy ghost,and you say that this car can race,but can it take us to that other place, a different side of mother natures face. take me to another place. Nothing drones honey comes from lots of work, sticky feet moving berserkpatterns form in crude beauty, drones fulfill a pointless duty, honey drips, from the hive, golden jkelly feeds their wife, pretty flowers messy home, nothing drones on like the cone, back and forth, in and out, dancing like we use our mouths,the pay is small and so are you, results of that sweetens my tooth, the task is never ending, constantly descending, dripping in the mouths of those not worth defending. Oppenheimer park Rolling down the open road, to the end of the line,end of the world, end of the illusion of time,I go down to the water, and feel the cool surf,hear music in the air and take it for what it’s worth, cant understand why people, could live on so little,when so much goes through them, and through the needle, so hasty, with the selling of their saved souls,the western downtown is bright, blunt, and bold. Walk up and down throughout the day, out of your mind,think of your home nevermore, till the end of timethe loop drones on and on like a broken clock,don’t need to climb the montain, cause your at the top Hastngs is not coming for you, your coming for it,like hell it bewccons like the incline of a pit,the east side, sits a nd people come from near and far,to sit, and sink, into the grass, in oppenheimer park oracle so your torched,your hanging by a thread,don’t scorch, your pretty little head,wishing through your lips that it worntpass,feels like your turning from a liquid to a gas, take a trip right to the edge of your mind, consciousness poured out and left behind,take a break from all the flats and all the sharpd,ride a cloud of nothing, and numb your broken heart To thew edge of your mind, distortion blurrs the line bettweenwhats out there and whats inside, deep in the cave, breath in the cold air,see shadows on the wall,… stare bring news just like homing pigeon,come down, and start a new religion, leave now, and speak out, littereally or metephorical,the knowledge you posess will make you the oracle. Pipe Dream A science experiment gone totally wronga weather balloon with some kind of evil about it,all the kids at school could see it above the horizon,my friends and i knew we’d be better off without it, king kong, walked along high street, where the freaks and thugs call home,if he could reach this floating disaster on time,he knew he would never have to die alone,hethough about it and realised the people wouldntunderstandhe knew their alien nation would turn this ape into a man, darkened minds turn on a dime, revolve in time along thin white linesyin and yang drip from a wolfs fang, one pulls the trigger the other goes band why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Darkened fool has lots of toolsd, dead at the deep end of the pool, boring times and pouring rhyme, the question, is this really mine? why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Psych em out Psychem out like rabid vermin, make em shout a phony sermon,see right through their simple game,right to their core their thoughts of shame, watchem blow upon the fire, rocks explode right on the liar, social change brings end to war, housewife trembles on the floor,backwardsforewards, up and downvoisc encircle all aorund, observeprecieve hear see know learn mirror be, identify possible flaws, of the menace with no causethe time is now, so try to learn how to bend the rules they use to keep you down. Rabbit hole Salvage you mind while it is illuminated, a fire out of control,a cabbage in ttime, right now it is fumigated, wired and housing a soul,badhabbits in line, schedualed to be terminated, inspire you out of your hole, A rabbit , redefined and underrated but higher than ever before, drink up while the tea is hot and bright blue, the flesh of the gods makes it so,3 caps and some stems is all i can do, to see shooting stars upon the snow, think sweetly of me, with emotions so true as yu stand and look through the window,think of thinkgs to do when im gone for good now, waving at the bus watching it go, Im down in the southland, with deep curving valleys and bridges all rusty and crumbling, with grasses all dying and rivers of green and subways whistling under me. a spot on the corner , a 30 dollar gutar, a case and a cigarette too, is all that i need to get usedd to my home and bring my mind closer to you. The last of this song, is all out of place, but the pace rings true to the rule, of the verses before i shut tight the door on the patterns lost and misconstrewen,becauseits all backwards and forewards like this, its in shambles but its not a ruin,the end of this 4 verse song has arrived, to the point you might not clue in. Sea of lights Rockj and rave, through the night,on speed in a sea of lights,jump spin contort thrust,black white pain lust,spent a week there last might, maybe more,steal yourself a holy death crouching by the door cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Standing there all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the whilestanding all in black behind the vox stack, from behind sunglasses, we inspire the masses, cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Walk and talk it through the park,whiplashgirlchild in the darkrun run run, take a drag shoot your speed while you brag i’ve been orchestrating behind sunglasses,immitatingprodogy, and writer, man, tomboy and a throusand fans zeppelin spotlights on my brain exploding plastic in my veinhypnotyic tones as the propellers drone,mind bending sounds, resonate undreground, dak circles never weed, new york 1963, Chcmysic, velvet freak desensitize alter tweak, no money car moon or sun, sell your blood for heroin,if she ever comes now now, moe beat on that drum now now,pink perfume, mantra neumes silk screen factory tunes superstar test only the best wine coffee speed heroin rest,darkcircl;es never weep, new yourk 1963,theyve been up for weeks, in the white light the tweak, in 63 Skeleton Here we are again, moneys all been spent, you don’t know where hesbeen,hes trying to fend off things that dwell within, hes a skeleton. at the end of days hes been here before he says, narrow in mannyways,hes a skeleton,andidont know where hesgoin, or why he thinks itssnowin, he can see the wind thatsblowin, hes a skeleton, Spotlight Reap what you sew,snakes and poppys in her hair,sun flowers in the snow,make you look like your not so old,it had been so long i could not recall her face,she came outside to meet me though iwas’t her case,nowi sit and wonder if I’m out of place,the memories i had of her, are in outer space Standing all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the while,on the odd days I could talk to her,harmony and dissonence, a modern venus in furs,up and down that hallway, rotating the earth,waiting there for hours and hours, for her the quench my thirst. Sweet grass summertime,see the star shine, and i don’t mind revisiting those times,although my mind is blown, i play the drone,saying goodbye while you’re getting stoned. Vicious lips oooooo what to do,iwanna see you too,i think imgoin mad, ooooim not that sad noooi wonder sometimes where you are,what moon what planet under what star,id like to think your not that far, but we both know that trip was hard your vicious lips, eard on the airwaves, waking the dead, from their graves,your sweet, but your toxic, been three weeks since you dropped itI found it in my pocket, your trains comin I cant stop it You Made Me the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me, Come Back Around JAMES MCFARLANE·FRIDAY, MAY 13, 201610 Reads The process as a whole is always a learning experience like no other. Ultimately, like the brain has a recognition and physical atribute that corresponds with most chemicals in nature (possibly even synthetic chemicals) the psychological functions that a person can aquire are almostordaned and recieved in a timely fashion by the organ and im assuming the subconscious effortlessly and for evolutionary purpose. So I will assume everyones own, (however existential), growth experience is interesting. Having the atribute of spiking and deminishing of at least two of the brains most important chemicals related to experience, and behavior… and the awareness of the (most obvious to you) potential for not only chemical related occurances and their ripple effect, but the behavioral methods that the acute brain, manic brain, almost has a natural function to excercise and use usually either for a better survival or further expansion into astonishing existential and soon to be investigated parapsychological, social behaviors that tend to stick as long as they serve in a new type evolutionary (ie “Counter intuative”, productive and humanistic beavior that the mind eagerly draws in like an antennae recieving and storing up valueable energy. Setting this agenda and also surviving the early episodes, of bipolar, (which are usually the most drastic) are two hurdles to get over, let alone the crude, almost sickening archetectural features in our community hospitals, thats purpose cannot be desguised as heathcare to the human eye. A grossly overused assortment of bondage equipment and isolation chambers (not to mention your absence of any dignifying articles of clothing( also to be moved and set in place on occasion) nowadays plate glass walls, a whole dungeon setup designed by those people involved no less, who really probably care wheather the colour they chose or how their design would function better than the decaying sweat soaked ultimately in our home towns case, my favorite case, dried blood stained, apparenty approved for use by some dr, a single hallway, to alk up and down seemingly endlessly, untill not suprisedby the inevitable dread code white, that is the delight for the predominantly, …listen t me… dominated, by your average practicing as ferociously as they can with as little effort as possible, sociopath and more importantly to re ognise, violent violators psychopaths, who pretymch have the real pl working there stressin over what could possibly be these ppls capabilities, and are alienated inside by this evil thay cannot risk their ,,, virtully anything valuable, like a job or who knows, omg… thats why she left,,,,, so, yaa, these ppl rise like cream, annnnnd they have a really good time eeeehm, .. now nurse practitioners or legends, thir former dominator look like theyve aged, well lets say i was convinced they had beeen using prolongued use on heavy stimulents, like crack. iloldrewaout a blueprint with symboldsfr the patient advocate, neaysi mostly wantd to write and its alot of shit thats gone no doubt as home with ,,,lets say u know like fat cat. what, i was 15, and he was fat then, now hes the last one standing up there that i know of. oh yea… so i would say if u want out, and as of late i thing the design is perfect for the right ppl, socios included, fuckers, but, the dr, they are jst as careless as the security guards who cant hide haw stupid the really are and the odd couple who are revealing that their ok, still, idicovered, ,, maybe not in north bay, but in a proper community, like the city, ………..lost my train,,,, i think that i was getting at how just to be fair and …eyea 50 percent of the staff endowd with the ability to weildstrapps, and are encouraged by their no doubt under educated superiors, to always have the wrist ready to be broken if, now this brings me back,,,, they chokeyou, than comes the bondage that betty page would think is very unatractive, idk,,, the thing is,,, ya the drs, oh waut,, ok��. 1/3 of all of them are,,,, exculding the drs, and the janitors, who if ihaventdiscosedya are always there to pile up on a code white, and i know,, listen to me, no janitor ive met would grab my ass so hard on such a numerous a pile up, i have eyes in theback f my head,,,,,,, italalot,,,,,,, ppl that work so hard tp climb so not that far up the ladder in society, yes, sum of them are costume rocking witchcrftprodiges, who, will, 1 take the whole bunch of guys .. it may have been the forensic unit,,, this little thing is known by ,ppl, ive talked to about the psych who are inderectyl told by their others who work it, and ave stories about the oddity of us. iduno,, alot went down, but,, boring s yea she walks me throught e bysantine conduit iup to the floor, and the police have to walk somewhere behind to uncuff me and ta da, , y o iwanna bring up corporeal action when the best times,,, due to the conditios of bondage uuuuuuuuuuh were strictly through plate glass,,,,, ie. rare appearenced that are pretty much the only way. i really was bloody fucking thirsty 8percent and i mea ya,, when i was younngti chewed up braaaaan and drank my watttaaeer, and drew peace sighnsandd 7 days laterrrrr, after she sumhow managed to get an earbud into my head screaming for any colour you like by pink floyd, and playd the fungsonhggg, badassss. straight jacket. prolly day 4,,,,, i still think cough syrop is good for teenagerswhatver,,m took me to the top. ok… to get offf, the ward do as such; by Ultimately drawin on to no apparent end in crayons complete with nicotine gum (smokes,, the only freedom, not yet a right, that is so hard to get,,,,, and i learned to smoke in side the scarborough general hospitol,,, that room soon became the chamber, i would be locked in, for manny weeks, at different times,, thats where alot also hapened, is where the nude bondage asianfemaldr, ..whati mean i s theatwwhatwuldlou reed say… they never forgave us for nagasaki.,,, newaysive never spent more time in a i also a what appears to be and have bben told by assdocter of the north bay pstychwhi took to court at the hospitol and he got yelled at by a panel while my dad defended him and i ate cookies cus ii was really manic,,,, i also was 15 1/2… he later let me try and commit suicide,, thats a story of a different colour,, sounds like sprockets, idk,, idontwafe war with very real religiossympomatic shat, iuuuuuhm , so,,,, hereswahat krb8tujvcklwelbutrin.,,, ya, it istaken orally it shoul get right to work in three ad a half weeks, if suicidal,,,,, pray, oooir if u cant get dxedrine,, or sum speed beane drink a bottle of childrensgeapecoughsyrup once a day,,,, this acts as a seritonin reuptake inhibitor of a differrentcolour. 2 to 4 hours,,,iu get the mental stimulation,, it reall is a mellow buzz butttttyupppidecare fuck cough syrop…… dexedrineisnt out there and i know it couould really bbe used and they aslso do,, ie. jfk, addisons disease, dexedrine/anphetamine. so,, it will make y0ur 90 year old great aunt we all frogot about over in blind river get up from the abyss of alzheimers and dementia and sing thins is the day that the lord hath made,, ,but with real and concious interaction,,, without memory of course. however,,, she does that,,, did that anyway , but,,, im sure every month not every day,, at least one trial of … iuffingadhd adults can take it,,, why cant she. smeared into the grate of every window and the classy bubble rooom which actually was made with enough pride according to the regionnsid say, to have an even more, almost funny, and certainly battered scratched and spat on bubble for the head psychiatrist t poke his head into every few days. Lets not froget how that scene ended. like my father and grandfather before me who conditioned and alterred the correctiona institutions for fifty fife years now a conmfortablevacatin for psychopaths and whoever, not even the hole could stand up to point blank restraints naked, with your flimsy gown around your chest. at least in the bubble room there was lots of privacy, u know, to each institution their own, glass , bubble blood stained, probably 60 years of ppl that somehow said something that attracted the attention of their nurse, who no doubt vollynteered after printing your file which is most likely epic thick, there is no room for any of their creative stylings in that no, i did just smash the wall into pieces and ya all the insulatin is everywhere, high five and respect from my cute transference mistress, (and a couple others.) Perverts Dictionary (O_o))))))))))))) Trilateral — jinx No doubt — yes, super Doble- adorable, dobles, adobles Straight up — forthrightly, correct, right, or goof Throwing babies makes them gay Avant garde — protect the old (art) stay the same Downtown, — quiet not ratting Technology — rewind/splice mp3 interchangable Right up — shooting up Not up — free (not in trouble) Word — “my promise” new word, yes Naw — ya goof / no Buzz out — use vibrator / get high Drone- parapsychological anomalie Phe — speed (methanphetamenes) Stellar — awsum / the sun / single thing Figure — shape (claivoiance) One — god / goof Out-gay or leaving No doubt — ur gay / im gay. (For sure (im a whore)) straight up In — a goof out “my thing ‘ — claivoiant animation (repeated) Pentagon/circuit — terrific Duality — love or contrast in nature Straight — not gay or no drugs Up-in torouble/retarded/fucked Goof — crazy p/pedophile / molester/rapist/asshole Pervert-whore/hooker Asshole-incessant talker(mean) Solid-honest reliable Ethereal — heavely, sticky, Bird- girl pervert , moron Badass-pervert/violent, missile Idiot –saying nething Toad- smaker (heavy) old vagina A hard — a stiffy Eh eh- turning vol down and then up to trick parents in the 70s in quebec Bonhome — dildo, goof, good man Ein — get in /out (here) goof (French) ass hole/vagina Institution/church shouting= good Tabernacle-chest Coalis-chalise Zeut-fuck Fuck- rape/damnet or sex Stomping — raping Bang out- beat on Beat up — gay kids trying to get their frieing off violently Rank out — make someone stink by working them or hurting them / cast someone out canadian military style (gay) , gang up on someone till they freak out (psychopaths do it all over Canada)’ Trast- drunk /party/water Dai-morning, cool, fun, ausum, hello! Good-goof Story along-paranormal happening involving ancestral memory Psychic-all in one, prophet telepath Telepathic — mind to mind talker, thinker Telekinetic- moving things/ ppl Claivoiance- seeing colour from other ppls minds Rod-skyfish/fast moving anomaly animal Vaj-old or young vagina Oss — dog or baby vagina Grandma- bag in tree Candy — transsexual My honey — sexy (on the wind(throwing laughter(female))) Beating off — complex Wacking off-pervert Jerking off — solid (female) Move-walk / go Mullet-militia Freak –goof (black word) Ca — crap — crow call Germ freak-someone who forces germs on ppl Quay-(beautiful woman (cunt) — woman) latin Mead-morphene Rin — heroin (dust / cookie crumble) Beans — speed pills Rids — Ritalin No shit- of course Jib-meth Hellfire — run off meth (bad) Food — crack Molly-mdma /e Bombs — ecstacy cid — Acid (lsd) shrooms-magic mushrooms sterl — brother (little) afgan weed — brown pot kife — bad weed (shake) leaves) shibby — cool/goof cool-gay/awsum fade white — see white on od (heroin/mescelin(go to heaven/hell)) road — freedom — out of institution the suck — mescalin myth ast — perversion telekinetic- asty sortof meta/physical movement from the brain outwardly god — goof — one or christ lady stink — female deodorant leave it — shirt on chest (gay /bi) stop it hiboit gland — make you fat cured with amricain medicine merican — goof citizen of America Canadian- a sovereign citizen of Canada (incestewous clown) Were done — end releationship British — gay mongerers Nono –nig mistake Famished — thirsty / starved Sent — innocent Pervert — to change something and make it last nothing — absence, bipolar universai — multiple universes psykinetics — telepathy / telekinetics/claivoiance geniupsy — psykinetic offspring genius — generating new thought (brilliant) bipolar- up and down serotonin and dopamine, psychopath — violent person sociopath — not caring about neone oppositional defiant — opposing help borderline personality — victim misbehaving schitzophrenic — high fixed dopamine, fixed seretonin (normal)\ drone — unpiloted airplane, good worker, artist , schitzophrenic dick — enlarged clitoris get out of here — come here little child aced — gay men trying to get pregnant, daughter , sqaired away k — ketamine ass — dad/grandfather hun — little stut( skank) brecky — greek (breakfast) supper — jewish (Dinner) brecko — Italian (breakfast) avatar — ethereal image of oneself asshole — girl or boy or rapist (north bay / Chicago)\ goof — sad or sexy ethereal image from shame can be cured with desensitization (knumbaning) (telepathic) ya — pedophile dude — black pedophile Italian cowboy, fake doctor (candadian) huffin — pretending to be someone else while using telekinteicks in a sexual fashion. sadomasochist — paingiver/enjoyer earphoning — hearing ppl in ypur speaker — hold speaker up to ear and hand over other ear, psychopaths recommendation pur — rapist/pervert uggz — ug;y phile — pedophile ace — gays — rape — sister — grandma-brother path — telepath or a psychopath/sociopath, can — male whore cop- fake police (pedophile) musac — music laid — losing virginity glowie — acid victims (creep) ente old stupid goof dex — cough syrup bed down — tie to bed (north bay) fuck right off — screw my girlfriend\ fuck off — go cop the u- universe no shit — definitely mangina — friend spect-respect right up — repect straight up — disguise Italian — scot Adisguzi — disgusting excuse me No shit- really? Love — goodbyek“love” and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophise with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the moment my phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche, at this moment I can prove using circumstancial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indesisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and psysical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living thngs on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not neccesarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings cresendoes babies,, are when the energy isnt circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, an the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, emparts her secret harboured denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, wheather the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivitol form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense, my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misenterperted until the last few seconds before the line went dead (FUCK), were interperated and acknowledged and the whole venus in furs philosophy of the one party giving the other what it wants so bad, but has been denied, and doing it with love, or what they BOTH KNOW is the kind of love that’s needed and given over finally with effortless, voluntary participation from the dominant, resuling in satisfaction in bohe parties (in my case the girl and I were more harmonized cause it was love based. Sex based, and send in the sacred medium of sound, and the talisman, the artifact, the memory the high velocity evidence that the message was of high fidelity, was that she didn’t use descriptive words (language) I was unfortunately (my medium at the time) it was her specific instrumental natural sirens alerting me to the intentions that truly lied behind her actions towards me even if it was for that day only, this medium I collected from the field is highly obvious and irreplaceable piece of art that is regarded by the mind of the homosapien on a natural level as evidence that it not just social interacton, its a higher form of interaction, sexual yes, the highest form, occurs only when the truly loving is truly loved, on a sexual level, which indicates physical involvement, and it did, only on one side, the side of the desired, the starvd had revieved the intention, and it was love, something metaphysical that can only be cofimed as occurring for ne length of time is undeniable corporeal action, even if its just her, givin er to you reading literature over the phone, the gift of reassurance that you are loved in this memorable case was not through words, but audible expressions from the depths of physical and mental activity from her diaphragm through her vocal chords and into my eardrum, was evidence enough that our seemingly healthy and thriving friendship was being held in limbo while I struggled with life and suffered over the denial of the true real deal love you were harbouring and saving in yourself for the future, didn’t dim and go out like a candle that burned up all the wax. Without official acknowledgement celebration and because I was still fucked up, without the long lasting relationship that we wished wold follow and planned for, the sound of her primal sirens, sent mono ideo-dnamically from her entire physical being emitting frequencies that resonate with the earth around her and correspond with the stimuli, me, the correspondence being the brief experience of hearing the broadcast of it, acknowledging the fact that no matter how flawed or un aware I was prior to precieving what was transpiring an how classicly themed to fit my experience it was, that the fucking phone died before I heard the end of it, I clued in to what was going on, (id been informed of this “drone”she makes by her ex boyfriend (the other guy) right before he drove his helpful and convenient car out of her life) Even if it was “her being noisy” it was fundamental sensual body chemistry, stimulated physically by the best means she knew how mentally by the imperative consciousness of the presence of the instinctualy, reproductivly essential of (in her case) a genuine male emitting stimuli, in both of our cases the stimuli was audio. The rare and most modern evolutionary trait is the simultaneous(I say this empathetically because were using language the figure this out not a live experiment going on right now or some shit) Emotional involvemint by both parties “while during coitus” bein, to into words, (I know that you’ve been loveing me so im gunna love you back) tho words are sweet but it doesn’t compare to the same message sent in the biologically, exceptional quality thats essential to the balance of the bodies involved and there connection to one another, the planet and the unverse, sound and where it comes from and the intention or involuntary reason for its presence and amplitude, dissonant or harmonious, perhaps my reading, my being on the line was the drone, and the harmony was her dissonant siren song. Its our new found puprose as humans to when ready reproduce. Love is highly evolved, and requires corporeal and linguistic and energetic action on both parties to be confirmed as true love. It works like a battery(the casing of the battery is the relationship here), one end needs what the other end has access to; the positive end has its own energy attached to it(the juice in the battery, posetve energy),(in this case this is our one, the girl)attractive body(+end)and a mind (the positive ends underside that’s harboring all the energy in the friendship/relationship (battery casing)the negative port on the other end of the battery on its outside (my mind in this case)is permanently attached through the casing of the battery to the mind of the desired, this girls memories thoughts etc. (the underside of the positive end) and not her body. Why because the casing is plastic,( the friendship) isnt enough to join the two to create a circuit, but the love(the battery juice made up of strange elemets) attracted by her negative mind(the underside of the positive end) and makes her body(the tip) fertile and ready to create electricity(communication) only the casing of battery acid(loving friendship)charged by my positive actions(the acid is positively charged by the underside of my mind(the negative ends underside) which represents my body, which behaves like the warm intentions of my actions, which positively go nowhere unless her mind (negative underside of the top of the battery)gets inspired by the love in the friendship (which is positively charged yearning, my positive actions played lovingly into her open mind(negative underside of the top) inspiring her to do something with her body(top of the battery positive) in response to my positive charge on her mind and all the love it can unleash, for the sake of warm intentions she turns on a cell phone,, her phone(or wire casing) the copper thread in the wire(the signal) the positive charge in the wire, (her calling me) and her hooking up the wire touching it to the negative end of the battery(her bodies actions and warm intentions inspired by a recognisable charge I embody that she identifies with(my body and life being negatively charged with aa positive mind and her beautiful face and attractive personality.) my phone rings and I see its her, the one, I immediately am inspired that its her charge the one im missing positively lovely, what is she up to? and i pick it up, A simple circuit at this point, is her using a tool or wire to send all her positive energy through to her body by using her minds attraction to positive energy, by simply attaching the wire it sends the positive energy not just through her mind and body but back down on her body, when the extension (the wire) is put on my mind(the negative end of the battery in this case, my mind),deliberately by her, sending the energized current of the love in our friendship (juice in the battery) into my mind(the end of the battery with a bump) by way of the wire (cell phone signals connecting our phones and her voice and energy being the current) all the positive energy meets the negative charge of my mind and then that foreign female tone (positive electrical current) the positive energy stemming from the juice, the love, that’s made up of elements like lithium(in the case of the battery and in my case as well) this element and other alloys, the whole chemistry of the battery acid, holds the charge positive because energy flows, and love or acid can be charged by the bi polarity of conducters meaning they are opposing one anothers charge on the outside leaving potential for power over nature, while on the inside, inside the battery the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, litteraly loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symetricaly and quite similarly to your perfect face and body only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me, from the beach into the city, while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella, drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I stop, wait my energys charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged ablilitys that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit cant explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery, the almost dead battery, poetic licence and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, Ive always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know theres more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours, in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, theyd knock me out, blow to the head, ill miss away you time instead, that lilliad inside your mind

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