#this book currently lives at my girlfriend's place for me to read aloud to her 💕

[bones-n-bookles]

White Fang by Jack London, 1906, with illustrations by Philippe Munch, 1998.

This edition has a tooooon of little supplemental blurbs and art pieces/photos added, on top of the book-specific art. It's less travel sized but I love all the extra context that's added 💕

[madlixxxx]

The Princess of Books

The request :

Five takes the reader out on a date and she loves books so he takes her to one of those massive, gorgeous libraries that looks straight out of a fairytale and its just this cute lil library date

I totally didn't just get this idea based off of Howl's Moving Castle theme. And it also got me thinking of dark academia theme with like…a color aesthetic of dark gold and burgundy/ruby

This is for you @seconds-not-decades ^^ ❤️

Advertisment : None, fluff

(Don’t use my aesthetic edit please !)

Five knew it very well, Y/N loves books and he too, it gave them a great point in common despite the many they already have. He thinks for a moment, he wanted to please her so much today, it doesn't look like that, but Five is a great romantic men ! After the Kugleblitz disaster, he had promised her that they would live together their retirement in Paris, he promised her the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. It was a dream for her and he kept his promises, they currently live together and happily  in Paris. But what Y/N absolutely wanted was to visit one of these great Parisian and magical libraries and that's where Five comes in, he had a brilliant idea, to take his sweetheart to one of these magical libraries.

"Y/N are you ready ?”

"I'm coming soon !"

Five waited patiently for his sweet love at the front door as she got ready for their date. Five, hadn't really changed his style of clothing, his black suit suited him very well, but when he saw her coming down those stairs with that beautiful flowered dress, he was speechless, she was incredible, the boy's smile broke extended without him even realizing it. She remains in front of him motionless like a flowerpot, blushing then she turns on herself to still show him her outfit.

"What do you think about it ?"

"You are..."

Y/N used to read people's eyes but she never quite got around to figuring out Five Hargreeves. The young woman's smile begins to fade.

"It's too much, is it ?..."

"No ! You are breathtaking..."

He said dreamily before placing both hands on either side of her waist. Y/N regains her wonderful smile, she wraps her arms around Five's neck.

"I would never disrespect my princess"

"Haha of course, it's better for you... so where are we going tonight ?"

"Surprise"

He said simply before opening the door for her to let her out first.

~~~

"Keep Your Eyes Closed"

"Where are you taking me like this ?"

They both stop in front of a large building while Five gets behind her to hide the nice surprise he had reserved for her. He leans slightly into her ear and whispers to her :

"Are you ready ?..."

She didn't even dare to speak anymore so all she could do was nod and trust him. Suddenly, she could see the light of the moon shining in the evening as her boyfriend removed his hands from her eyes. The young woman took a long time to realize and she had such a hard time believing it that she suddenly began to hop and scream with joy as she jumped into Five's arms, who delicately, placed his hand on her lower back always with that little smirk as a sign of victory.

"You knew it !"

"But I always knew"

She kisses his cheek with so much love and then she rushes to the doors of the large library as Five follows right behind her with his hands in his pockets.

~~~

A long evening ensued in this large library, Five and his sweetheart had already made the three floors but they had both stopped at the shelves of romance novels... it made Y/N dream. Currently her head was resting on Five's shoulder as she read aloud, somewhat tiredly, one of the novels she had found in French. As she read, Five couldn't help but stare at her thinking that she was dazzling and her French accent was so pretty and sweet as she read. He quickly noticed that she was starting to fall asleep on his shoulder, he had the reflex to recover the book which was going to fall on the ground Five does not bother to put the book away, he carries his sleeping girlfriend in his arms, kissing her forehead.

"We're going home my princess..."

This evening was absolutely perfect for Five but especially for Y/N, Five could fulfill all her dreams without flinching, he would win the moon for her and Y/N knew it very well and that's why she loved him so much...

~~~

Five gently lays her down on their bed as she begins to open her eyes.

"It was amazing..."

"It's true"

He strokes her soft hair as she gazes at him in pleasant silence.

"Five ?..."

"Mmh ?..."

"I love you..."

"I love you too my lovely princess of books..."

He gently kisses her lips, closing her eyes as he did the same before they both fell into Morphee's arms...

~~~

[mermaidsneedwater]

cuddling

this was requested by a lovely anon! i hope you like it :)

⇒ jaebeom

“Why do I always have to be the little spoon.” You whined.

“Because you’re my baby.” Jaebeom informed you, adjusting his grip on you and nuzzling his nose in the back of your neck.

It was rare that Jaebeom got cuddly like this, but when he did he was extremely clingy. He would follow you around like a lost puppy, itching to be close to you in any capacity.

“But you’re my baby.” You pouted. “I want to be the big spoon.”

“I’m not a baby, I’m a manly man” Jaebeom countered. “I’m your big, strong boyfriend. Real men have to protect their girlfriends.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, I just want you to be the small spoon for once.”

“I’ll think about it.” Jaebeom conceded.

Turning to face him, you were excited “Really?”

“Absolutely not.” He said smugly.

“That’s so unfair!” You turned around to face him. “Fifteen minutes.”

He watched as you pleaded with him to change up your cuddle routine. Playing with a strand of your hair he negotiated with you. “You get ten and we never do it again.”

“Done.” You grinned. “Now turn around.”

Rolling his eyes, but complying you watched as he turned his back, his broad shoulders now facing you.

Moving up in the bed, you rested your cheek against his shoulder blade and wrapped your arms from underneath around him.

Snuggling into him, you could see out of the corner of your eye that his face was twisting into a smile.

“Admit it, you’re enjoying this.” You whispered in his ear.

“I’m not.” Jaebeom denied.

“You like being the little spoon!” You giggled.

“The only thing I like, is cuddling you.” He corrected. “Is time up yet? I want to hold you.”

“It hasn’t even been two minutes!”

Huffing, he resumed his silence. You squeezed him, hoping to get a reaction out of him to no avail.

“This has got to be the longest ten minutes of my life.”

⇒ mark

Mark stood and evaluated his options. He could sit on the other end of the couch or...

He decided to go with the latter option.

Mark laid on the couch with his head squarely in your lap. Looking down from you phone you realized he was watching you.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Thank you.” He said.

Raising an eyebrow you were confused, “what for?”

“I don’t know, for just being you. For being in my life.” He shrugged looking up at you upside down.

You leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Mark chuckled pointing to his lips.

“You know where I want it.”

Shaking your head, you planted a kiss on his lips, His hands reaching up to cup your face.

He turned on his side to face the tv. On his side, you ran a hand up and down his back.

“I’m taking a nap” He declared.

“Okay, you can sleep.” You watching him.

“You better not be gone when I wake up.” He warned.

“I’ll be right here.” You ran a hand through his hair. “Just rest.”

You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, noting the dark circles that had once again formed under his eyes. He was working so hard, a little too hard in your opinion.

You knew that he’d never tell you though because he was too grateful for the fact that he could do what he loved. That was one of the things you loved about your boyfriend, his unwavering passion for the things and people he loved.

Unable to contain yourself, you softly kissed his cheek.

Mark cracked a smile, opening his eyes “Now how am I supposed to sleep when you kiss me so sweetly like that babe?”

⇒ jackson

Jackson was a cuddler, there was no denying that. His idea of paradise was snuggling, with him swearing he could happily die with you in his arms.

So when he came back from his trip overseas, his first request was to cuddle.

“I can’t breathe.” You exhaled as he squeezed you.

You both laid on your couch, which you’d both agreed was way too small. Jackson had you in his arms with a leg wrapped around you as you sat immobile.

“I am never letting you go.” Jackson replied, ignoring your complaint. “Why do I even bother leaving? I end up missing you too much.”

Every time Jackson left you, he’d always come back to this thought. You didn’t know it, but it really did kill him to be apart from you. As your relationship progressed he’d try and convince you to come with him, or prolong the time he needed to be away from you.

“Because you have work.” You reminded him. “And besides, you were only gone for two weeks

“Yeah and it felt like an eternity!” He frowned. “I didn’t think I would make it!”

“You’re so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, chuckled.

“I’m serious.” Jackson said.

As you settled down from your laugh, you watched Jackson’s face soften. He studied your features, wanting to memorize every little detail about you. He’d always liked you best when you were laughing, usually at something he’d said or done.

You watched as he looked at you with such warmth and adoration. In your heart you knew he was being honest, the boy was deeply in love with you.

He leaned in to kiss you, softly cupping your face. You were it for him, he’d given his heart to you and couldn’t get it back.

Leaning his forehead against yours he whispered, “I love you.”

Wanting to tease him, you whispered in his ear, “I know.”

“Oh you’re going to regret that Princess,” Jackson warned.

He locked his legs and arms around you so you’d have nowhere to go. You attempted to wiggle out of his grasp but he’d secured you in his grip.

“Jackson!” You squealed.

⇒ jinyoung

Jinyoung cradled you with one arm, moving to turn the page of his book. You’d been listening intently as he read aloud the play he was currently reading, Romeo and Juliet.

You had missed him, he’d been so busy with work that even though you lived together you felt like you’d barely seen him. To remedy this, you both had agreed to spend time together this afternoon.

“What are you reading?” You asked. “Read to me.”

Jinyoung replied, engrossed in his book. “Romeo and Juliet.”

“I want to hear.” You told him, looking up to see his face.

“You’re just going to sleep sweetheart,” Jinyoung replied, he knew the sound of his voice could put you to sleep faster than anything else.

“I’m not! I want to hear the story.” You insisted.

“Okay fine, but if you fall asleep...”

“I won’t,” you snuggled into his chest, as he held you against him.

Jinyoung read a few pages, sitting up a bit to see your expression. Soon he stopped reading out loud altogether, convinced you were asleep in his arms. You let him know that wasn’t the case by lightly tapping his arm.

“I’m awake.” You told him, yawning. “Keep going.”

“Okay fine, Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow. That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—” He read aloud. “O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon. That monthly changes in her circle orb. Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.” 

You were listening to him. But before you knew it you could feel your eyelids close, heavy with sleep. I’ll just close my eyes for five minutes you thought to yourself, he won’t even notice.

Jinyoung however, had intended to catch you sleeping. As you closed your eyelids gently, Jinyoung glanced down to see you.

You laid sprawled out across his chest, as he wrapped one arm around your side. You looked so peaceful, with your face relaxed and lips slightly parted. Smiling to himself he continued reading silently.

“I knew it.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

⇒ youngjae

Wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s neck nestling into him. It was no secret that he lived for your cuddling sessions.

“Wow you smell so good.” You complimented him. “Is that a new cologne?”

“Yeah, Jackson gave it to me for my birthday.” Youngjae said. “I’m glad you like it.”

You sat in silence, enjoying each other’s comfort. You both couldn’t say it out loud, but you knew it was a nice way to recharge, just laying in each other’s arms. Youngjae loved the feeling, he was afraid of what would happen when he had to leave for the shooting of his drama soon.

“I want you to know... I’m proud of you.” You said in his ear. “And I love you.”

Youngjae could feel his heart melt in his chest.

Shy at your compliment, he nervously laughed. “Where’s this coming from?”

As you felt the vibrations of his chest, you pulled back and held his face in your hands.

“I just want you to know.” You said. “And I mean it too.”

Youngjae didn’t often express his love for you in words, so you knew he was struggling with what to say.

You nestled back into him, placing your hand on the back of his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

“How do you do that? You know what I’m thinking before I even say it.” Youngjae mused.

“I know you.” You shrugged simply.

“Well then you probably know that I love you more.” He countered.

“No way,” you argued. “I definitely do.”

“Are we really arguing about who loves the other more right now?”

You both looked at each other, bursting out into a laughing fit. Eventually he’d have to leave, but for now all Youngjae could do was enjoy these precious moments with you.

⇒ bambam

“You’re too bony.” You complained. “I can’t cuddle with you properly.”

Bambam had remembered your words. Not that they were the only reason, but he had secretly been trying to bulk up before his next comeback. He was excited to have you feel the results of his hard work.

“Baby come here,” Bambam motioned for you to come join him in bed.

You finished brushing your teeth and headed to the foot of the bed where your boyfriend awaited. “What’s up?”

“Come here I want to cuddle with you.” He said sweetly.

Frowning, you felt bad for what you were about to say, “I’m really not in the mood. I feel so sore, I think I’m about to get my period.”

“I don’t mean it like that your pervert!” Bambam exclaimed, “I mean I really want to cuddle with you.”

“Bam, I would love to but it’s so hot...” you teased him

“Woman, get your butt over here.” Bambam insisted.

Today he had an agenda, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bambam opened his arms for you as you slid into bed. As laid in his arms he looked at you and finally asked.

“Do you notice anything different?”

“You’re wearing new pajamas?” You suggested.

You knew what he was trying to show off, but you couldn’t help but tease him. You stifled a laugh as you saw your boyfriend’s face fall.

“No. Does anything feel different.” He tried again.

“Ew, Bambam!” You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“Not like that!” He said, frustrated you weren’t catching on.

He attempted to release his arms from you when you finally gave in.

“Woah, you’ve been working out! Your arms are huge.” You complimented him.

“Oh now you notice.” Bambam pouted, still upset.

“I’m sorry baby, I just love teasing you.” You smiled mischievously, sticking your tongue out at him.

⇒ yugyeom

You watched as Yugyeom swiped another coat of paint on your nails. Kneeling in front you on the couch, he was hunched over your left hand. He’d seen you struggling with painting it and had asked you if he could do it for you.

Surprisingly, he was taking the task extremely seriously. You watched his hair fall over his eyes as he stuck his tongue out in concentration.

You knew how much he loved you, especially in the little things he’d do for you out of consideration.

“Yugyeom?” You said, watching him paint.

“Hmm.” He murmured in response, focused on the task at hand.

“Can you give me a hug?” You asked.

He looked up, confused. “Now jagi?”

“Yes now.”

He finished your pinky and set the bottle of nail polish down, securing the cap. Then watching as opened your arms, he stood up awkwardly and attempted to hug you.

“Are you in a hurry?” You frowned.

“No,” Yugyeom pulled back confused.

“I want a good hug.” You pouted.

With that, Yugyeom got down on his knees, and engulfed you in his arms. He squeezed you, locking his hands behind your back.

In response, you wrapped your arms over the top of his shoulders, carefully trying not to mess up the nails he’d just painted. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes.

You both stayed like that in a comfortable silence. It was in moments like these that you showed your love for Yugyeom. Though you were both young and not overly affectionate, you found comfort in something as simple as a hug.

Clearing your throat, you began to pull away. “Okay, thank you.”

“No wait.” Yugyeom held onto you. “I want to stay like this.”

return to masterlist

[papergirllife]

Let Me Show You

Johnny Suh oneshot (M)

Requested

warnings : body insecurities, dieting.

" You sure you don't want a wooper burger? "

" Yes, I'm sure. "

" Are you really, really, really sure you're just going to settle for a salad? "

" Yes. "

" You literally just said salad was like eating grass a month ago. "

" I changed my mind. "

Johnny looked at you skeptically, but decided to not push your buttons today.

" Okay, whatever you say baby. "

When the food came and you started picking at it, Johnny laughed.

" You could've at least settled for a wooper junior. "

" I'm not hungry. "

" Then why are you eyeing my fries like that?"

You looked at Johnny wide eyed, shocked at the fact that you were caught by your own boyfriend.

" No, I wasn't! I was just thinking of what to cook for dinner. "

" Right. You know you can take some right? I purposely ordered a large. "

" Why made you think I'll eat your fries? How are we going to finish it? "

" Chill, babe. If we can't finish it, I'll just bring it over to the dorms, I bet someone would eat it. "

You rolled your eyes at him, continue munching on the salad that you utterly despise.

" I told you there won't be any fries left. "

" All your fault. "

" It's your mouth and your stomach babe. I only tempted you. "

" And that's where you crossed the line, Mr Suh. "

" But you like it when I hop over the lines you drawn, Future Mrs Suh. "

" Shut up! No teasing me. Who says I'm marrying you, huh? "

" My mom. "

" You and your jokes. I'm going to shower. Are you fine with washing up the plates? "

" Yeah, go ahead, babe. "

' God, why did I eat those fries? ' You thought to yourself.

You took a look at your own reflection in the and cringed at your appearance. These past few days of quarantine has not been helping your weight at all.

It wasn't the fact that you gained weight, it was the fact that even doing so many exercises, learning dieting tips, reading weight loss methods on self care blogs and all the other crap you tried still hadn't taken an effect on your body.

It's hard having a hot boyfriend like Johnny, all your thoughts these days have been about the fact that your body doesn't match a perfect one like his. What would people say when they find out the Johnny Suh's girlfriend wasn't up to expectations?

Before stepping into the shower, you looked your naked self in the mirror.

' Why can't my waist be tinier? '

' Because you're a fat ass who can't resist food. '

God you hated that voice in your head, even though it's just you scolding yourself. It feels like there's always this monster in your head, telling you all your woes in another horrendous form.

Fuck it.

You stepped into the shower, wishing you could wash away all your worries like the dust in your hair.

After drying your hair, you decided to take a nap.

You lived by the motto that sleep is the solution to all problems you don't know or don't wish to deal with.

Your nap was short lived however. You could feel Johnny's body snuggled close to yours, his face nuzzling into your neck.

" Baby. Why don't we have a little fun? "

His fingers were toying with the hem of his shirt.

" Johnny, no. I'm not in the mood. "

" I can get you in the mood. We haven't been intimate for so long. I miss your beautiful body. "

' It's horrible. '

Fuck, you said that aloud.

Suddenly, Johnny sat up from the bed.

" Babe. I thought you haven't been eating as much because you ate earlier on without me as you always told me. But it's actually dieting? You've been dieting behind my back? "

Fuck.

" No. I just... didn't tell you about it. I never thought it as something important. "

" How is it not important? God I should've guessed, I've been so busy with the comeback. "

" It's fine. There isn't anything you have to be worrying about. "

" Baby. Why are you doing this to yourself? "

" I've been showing you nothing but support for all the things you want to do, but I seriously can't accept the fact that your dieting for no reason. "

" I'm dieting because I want to, that's a reason. "

" But you don't have to. Why are you making yourself go through unnecessary hardships?"

" Hardships bring rewards. "

" What rewards will you attain other than hunger? "

" I'll be skinnier. Then I'll look nicer in my clothes. "

" You look gorgeous in your clothes. Being skinnier doesn't mean you'll look nicer. Look at me, babe. "

Johnny always told you look at him whenever he's talking about loving you or something important, it's good way of showing he cared for you. But it's also your weakness in giving into him.

" Give me your hand. "

" Why? "

" Just do it. "

He held your hand against his in front of your face.

" See how big my hand is compared to yours? "

He then moved his hand to hold onto one of your upper thighs.

" See how snuggly your thigh fits into my hand? Imagine if I let you go on a diet, and your body gets skinnier, there will be empty space left in my hand. What do I do with the empty space? Except it making me feel empty from the fact that I don't like thighs that small and that you suffered for nothing thinking that it'll make me happier. Babe I don't want you to go on a diet, I love you just as you are."

" But...

" No buts. You'll be eating Johnny's delicious cooking for dinner tonight. A healthy meal for my beautiful girlfriend. Are you hungry now? I can get you something to eat? "

" No it's fine. I'm not hungry. "

" Are you still insecure? "

" No. "

You didn't dare to look into his eyes, if you did Johnny would know that you weren't telling him the truth about your insecurity.

Even though you did so, Johnny could tell. He could read you like an open book. He knows you're still in denial. So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

" If my words can't take away your doubts, I'll use my actions. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me. "

Johnny starts kissing you slowly, hesitating just in case you were seriously not in the mood for anything physical.

Things were rarely this slow with Johnny as he's always either busy or too tired to drag on for a long period of time, but he has plenty of time for you now.

He slid his tongue inside your mouth when you reciprocated his actions, his confidence building up from your responsive eagerness.

His hands hold onto your waist, keeping you flush against his body.

You sucked in your stomach, fearing that he would find your waistline being too wide.

But you accidentally did it too quickly as you panicked when he touched you, making Johnny notice the sudden change.

Johnny pulls away from your heated make out session and cradles your face into his hands gently.

" Baby, I love you. You don't need a small waist for me to love you. I'm more than satisfied with your current body. Don't change or feel like you need to change anything about it. "

" I'm sorry, my reflexes kicked in. "

" It's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for. Do you still want to go on? We can stop if you want. "

" I'm okay. Keep going. "

Johnny peppered kisses down your neck and behind your ear.

" You smell good babe. "

" I smell like old laundry. "

" My old laundry. I wore this shirt yesterday. You smell like me. "

" Why are you smiling like you won the lotto?"

" Because you're my lotto. I'm the luckiest man alive to have won your heart. "

Johnny took off his shirt to admire your body. He gave your breasts a gentle squeeze, admiring the way it bounced lightly as he lets them go.

" Beautiful. "

He scatters kisses from your cleavage to your nipples, leaving no spot untouched.

You played with his hair as he was busy giving love to your breasts, basking in the love and comfort from your lover.

After concluding that your breasts had enough love, he moved down to leave a trail of kisses on your stomach.

Before taking off your panties, he places a kiss each on of your hip bones.

" Your hip bones are already showing, and you think you're not skinny? "

" I wanted to work on my stomach. I want waists like the Victoria's Secret angels on TV, like your female colleagues and fellow idols. "

" Babe, many of those models on TV are underweight, remember? Remember the article you read on the models opening up about suffering from eating disorders? I don't want you to have eating disorder. And female artists in my company are around your size as well. "

" No. Look at Taeyeon noona, she's so slim and small. I want a figure like that."

" Baby, her body's different from yours. Your bones are stronger, so they're a bit bigger. And you're taller, of course you'll have a bigger build compared to her. Okay? You're perfect, stop comparing your body to other people's. "

" I just want to be beautiful for you. I want you to feel proud when you introduce me as your girlfriend. "

" I always felt proud of you baby. That will never change. "

He gave you a warm smile before moving down to continue pampering you in his love.

He gave your clit a kiss, sending shivers down your bones. His hands start wandering on your thighs, lightly pinching and holding your part of your thigh in his big hand.

" Have I told you how much I love your thighs? They're soft and feminine, but also has a degree of muscularity. That must be from all the dancing work out routine we had. "

Johnny moved down to your lower thighs, kissing and hands wandering his way up. Until he was met with the exquisite sight of your pussy.

" I'll never get bored of this view. "

He began eating you out like his last meal, you what thought was mind blowing about Johnny in bed was his love for pleasuring you, even though he was not on the receiving end.

You let your hands hold onto his soft hair, encouraging him to keep going.

Johnny sucked at your clit, two fingers slipping inside you as you were distracted.

You bit onto your lip, not wanting to sound annoying during sex or breaking the mood.

But Johnny wasn't happy with what you done. Johnny halted his sinful acts on you and looked up.

The sight had you dripping for more. The way he looked slightly breathless, with your juices all over his mouth and chin. But it was his eyes that was the ultimate deal breaker, although he was eating you out, his eyes still cast a heavy sense of dominance in them, starting into his eyes left goose bumps on your skin.

" Be my good girl and let me hear your pretty moans, baby. "

" Yes, Johnny. "

" Good girl. "

When he went back down on you, he decided to turn things up a notch by sliding his tongue inside your warm walls.

It was always euphoric to have Johnny's tongue inside you, the way the warm wet muscle slides and slithers its way into your warm cavern has your legs shaking for Johnny.

The knot in your belly starts to coil as Johnny starts to rub eight motions on your clit, pushing you off the edge.

" Fuck! Johnny, I'm gonna cum. "

As you registered that he didn't let out any objections, you let all hell loose.

Johnny lapped up your essence, like a wolf finally getting its feed.

Johnny strips off his clothes, watching you as you regained composure from your high with a loving and proud gaze.

" You look like you're glowing, baby. "

" With tears running down my face and cum all over my legs? "

" Only I can see you this wrecked, that's why I love it so much. "

" You're crazy. "

" Crazy for you, babe. "

Johnny climbed over you, his hands brushing your hair away from your sweaty face, laying a kiss on the tip of your nose.

" I love you. "

" I love you too, Johnny. "

Johnny held onto your hips gently, and pushed himself into you.

He peppered kisses all over your face as you adjusted to his size. You love the feeling of being so in love and dirty with the man you adore with your whole heart.

" You can move now. "

You were curious, whether Johnny was going to continue the fast pace he set just now or go for the romantic way of things.

Johnny started to move out slowly, and thrusted back into you deeply, making your toes curl and fingers clasped around his strong arms.

" Johnny... "

You love making love with Johnny, although it rarely occurs. Most times the both of you fuck your brains out, but today was different.

Today Johnny wants to remind you how he loves you, and how he'll show you in the most intimate way possible.

Johnny continued his deep and hard thrusts into you, hitting your sweet spot every single time. Johnny has a knack for finding it, as the two of you have been this intimate for so many times.

Johnny feels like his in heaven, your voice chanting his name over and over again in that angelic voice of yours.

The mantra of your voice fuels him to go faster, wanting to chase both of your orgasms.

You could feel Johnny getting close, as he swells inside you. The friction from Johnny's thrust pushing you towards your high as your walls convulsed around him.

" Cum for me, baby. I want us to cum together. "

" Johnny, fuck. So close. "

Johnny gave one your nipples a squeeze to send you off your edge as he spills into you, your warm cavern welcoming him.

" Johnny! "

" That's it baby, scream my name. "

Johnny continued to lightly thrust into you, milking you until you're dry. Johnny always had a thing for creampies.

When you started to get sensitive, he stopped. He slowly slid out of your pussy, some of the mixture of both his and your cum leaking out.

He uses a finger to push the liquid back in, as his other hand takes some tissue to clean up your previous cum stains on your thighs.

Johnny slid your panties back up, as he finished cleaning.

" Don't let my cum leak out from those pretty lips, that's all my love for you. "

" Just get in bed, I'm so tired from all the action. "

" Okay, baby. "

Johnny wraps his arms around you as he takes a wiff of you once again.

" Stop. I smell like sex. "

" We both do, and I love it. "

" Thank you, for making me feel better about myself. "

" You deserve to love yourself as I love you, Y/N. I know it'll take time, these things. But I'll be here in your heart, to remind you how beautiful you are everyday. I love you, baby. "

" I love you too, Johnny. My life wouldn't be the same without you. "

[miracleonice87]

Say You Won’t Let Go

a Sidney Crosby wedding series

Part Two

a/n: here’s part deux! read part one here. this will have at least one more part, probably 2! worth noting that I know next to no French and am relying heavilyyyy on our pal Google Translate in this story.

summary: a little more background throughout, as Juliette and Sidney meet up with their families and hockey star-studded bridal party for a rehearsal at their iconic wedding venue. if you’re not familiar with the location (it’s honestly incredible), click here for a look!

warnings: mention of deceased father. otherwise, so damn fluffy it’s practically cotton candy.

_____

Sidney and I arrived at the church exactly on time, much to Lauren’s satisfaction, with two cars carrying Mario’s crew pulling in at the next moment. I closed the passenger door of Sidney’s steel grey Range Rover and turned to take in the sight of our wedding venue, Heinz Chapel on Pitt’s campus, reaching a hand up to shield my face from the early evening sun as I gazed. Sidney did the same, coming to stand next to me and snaking an arm around my torso.

“Not a bad place to get married, eh?” he teased, kissing the crown of my head. I smiled and shook my head. “I’ve dreamed of this since the moment I first saw this place,” I told him. “It’s perfect.”

He took a step forward, offered his hand to me and grinned, quite pleased that we had been able to reserve the coveted location last summer despite it typically being booked three or more years in advance. I didn’t often request many special favors in the name of my uncle or fiancé, but this was one that seemed a necessity. Taking Sidney’s hand and walking toward the cathedral-style landmark, I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d gotten even more than what I always dreamed of, in so many ways.

My family and Sidney walked into the chapel to find his parents and our bridal party already mingling near the pews, excitement palpably buzzing beneath the magnificent arches and towering stained-glass windows that decorated the exquisite interior. As we stepped through the doors, they turned our way, and I let out an echoing, very French-Canadian-sounding, “Allooo!” making them all laugh.

I first greeted Troy, Trina, and Taylor with hugs and warm hellos. Sidney’s parents were staying at his former townhome on Mt. Washington, which previously served as his bachelor pad and now housed Taylor in light of her recent move to Pittsburgh. We had spent much quality time with the elder Crosbys since their arrival from Nova Scotia a few days ago, helping us with final preparations and enjoying each other’s company ahead of my official entrance into their family.

Both Trina and Nathalie had accompanied me earlier in the week to my final dress fitting and pickup appointment at the bridal boutique where I had selected my gown. Though my mother did plan to attend the wedding ceremony as a guest, she was uninterested in playing the traditional mother of the bride role and joining me for such commitments, which hadn’t surprised me but still stung sharply, especially when I was fastened into the gown and presented by the salon attendant to a waiting Trina and Nathalie.

Bitter tears pricked my eyes as I allowed myself to feel robbed of sharing that moment with my own mom. My sadness was quickly overcome, however, when the women, sensing my sadness, warmly embraced me and fawned over me, admiring the perfect fit of the gown, both becoming emotional when Nathalie tucked my headpiece and veil tenderly into my hair.

The three of us stared at my reflection in the mirror for a few moments as we let tears of many complicated emotions fall, with joy prevailing above them all. I couldn’t keep the enormous smile from my cheeks when Trina squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “Oh, sweetheart, just wait until Sidney sees you.”

Now, we were less than 24 hours away from that moment, with our bridal party and family bustling around us in the chapel.

As our officiant, Father Antonio, announced that we would be lining up for the rehearsal momentarily, Lauren approached me with a grin, extending a bouquet she had made of the countless ribbons and bows from my bridal shower gifts acquired a couple of months ago. I giggled at how cheesy yet adorable the arrangement looked, thanking her as we huddled at the back of the aisle with my bridesmaids and Sidney’s groomsmen.

“This place is a little beat up,” Nate MacKinnon, our best man, ribbed Sidney from between the two of us. “I don’t know why you guys picked this dump,” he added, pulling me to his side. Sidney shoved lightly at his chest before the two of them laughed and embraced.

“Yeah, the old barn in Cole Harbour was booked this weekend, so we kinda had to settle for the next best thing,” Sidney played into Nate’s teasing, as his longtime best friend Mike, also a Cole Harbour native, approached us.

“Kind of a shithole,” Nate whispered, earning a warning glance from me as Austin tried to hold in hysterical laughter. “You can’t say shit in church!” Austin forced out from under his breath. “Oh, we’re going straight to hell,” Mike commented softly. Sidney gave me an apologetic look and I smiled up at him.

“It’s fine. These are our people!” I said to him, flicking Nate’s elbow as I passed him. “Besides, we’ve already been living in sin,” I added, winking at Sidney. He gave me a look of mock disbelief and insisted, “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a nice Catholic boy.” I giggled and pushed onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, which smelled of his fresh aftershave.

In addition to Nate, Mike, and Austin, we greeted Sidney’s other groomsmen as we prepared for the rehearsal — his current teammates Kris Letang and Evgeni Malkin and former Penguin Marc-Andre Fleury. They had all graciously accepted the invitation by Sidney to play this special role in our day, with Geno flying in from Russia and Kris and Marc-Andre from Quebec.

Marc-Andre had brought a few other important components to our day along with him — not the least of which was his wife and my best friend, Veronique. She and I had first met when Sidney and I were only casually seeing each other, and she had predicted this wedding long, long ago. She had been one of our biggest cheerleaders since the day we met, and despite her and Marc’s eventual move to Las Vegas, the four of us remained the closest of friends, visiting each other when the men’s respective teams played and whenever else possible.

With Lauren as my maid of honor and Stephanie, Alexa, and Taylor as three of my other bridesmaids, my friend Jacqueline, a Pittsburgh transplant with Canadian roots whom I met while studying at Duquesne, rounded out my crew of six ladies who would stand by my side on this long-awaited day.

To up the cuteness factor, Sidney and I had selected Marc-Andre and Veronique’s daughters, Estelle and Scarlet, as our flower girls, with Geno’s son Nikita and Kris’s son Alex as our ringbearers. Nikita was still a bit young to understand his role, but grinned broadly when Sidney told him when they arrived just how important he was to our day. On the other hand, Kris told us that Alex had cried after his parents had asked him to be in our wedding, because, as much as he adored and was attached to Sid, Alex had been under the impression that I was his girlfriend, not Uncle Sidney’s.

Eventually, after Sidney and I made the rounds to greet them all, the entire bridal party was grouped together to begin the walk-through. The venue’s wedding planner wrangled the children as the priest noted that Sidney needed to leave my side to approach the front of the church alone, in preparation for his emergence from one of the side doors at the front of the sanctuary tomorrow.

Playful “oooh”’s erupted from our groomsmen, who teased Sid about having to pry himself away from my hip. Sidney rolled his eyes, nodding and smirking, before turning his full attention to me. He tucked some hair behind both of my ears before caressing my cheeks with his thumbs.

“You gonna be okay, Jules?” Sidney asked, eyes wider than normal as he searched mine carefully.

I knew he wasn’t asking if I would be alright once he left my side to stand twenty yards away for the next five minutes, but rather if I would be able to contain my emotions as Mario walked me down the aisle, even during a practice run, in place of my father.

We had talked about this specific part of our day a number of times, with Sidney even pondering aloud whether he should walk me down the aisle himself because walking with anyone except my dad felt impossible to me. His sweet dad had even offered to do so, should I desire. After each conversation, Sidney and I both kept arriving at the same conclusion — that the best and most appropriate plan of action was for Mario to give me away and also to join me for the traditional father-daughter dance at the reception.

I nodded, holding onto Sidney’s wrists. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll be okay,” I promised. He nodded solemnly in return and kissed my forehead before pulling back with a wink.

“You can do this,” he encouraged. “I’ll see you up there.” I gave him my best smile as he turned and walked to the front of the chapel.

As our wedding party lined up in front of me to take their positions, Nate stopped me for one of his signature bear hugs, resting his chin on top of my head just for a moment before releasing me. The rest of our group squeezed my hands and rubbed my arms lovingly as I walked to the back door of the sanctuary where Mario waited, hands folded in front of his hips and a tentative smile on his features. He, too, gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead before holding my shoulders at arm’s length.

“Listen, princesse, it was one of the greatest honors of my life when you asked me to walk you down the aisle,” Mario said, soft enough that only I could hear. “But if you’ve changed your mind and would rather do this some other way, please, just say the word.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his waist just as the piano music began.

“No, you are exactly the person my dad would want doing this if he couldn’t,” I told him confidently. Mario let out a small exhale, and I could tell he was trying to remain composed. As we parted, he said, “Then let’s go make him proud.” He offered his arm to me and I wrapped my hands around it firmly, leaning my head into his shoulder briefly.

We watched pairs of our party head down the aisle toward Sidney and the priest at a relaxed pace: Jacqueline and Geno led off, followed by Veronique and Marc-Andre, Taylor and Kris, Alexa and Austin, Stephanie and Mike, and finally, Lauren and Nate. Alex walked down the aisle in a near-skip, holding a fake pillow very carefully just as his mother, our beautiful friend Catherine, had instructed him, with Nikita by his side mimicking his every move. Their fathers gave them thumbs up and everyone clapped lightly when they reached the end of the aisle.

Next, after a bit of prompting from both their parents at the front, Estelle and Scarlett followed the boys’ path, scattering fake rose petals in place of the real ones they would have tomorrow, earning their own quiet round of applause. As the children were seated at the ends of the front pews on either side, the music shifted, and our wedding planner turned and gave Mario and me the nod.

“Ready, Juliette?” he asked softly. My eyes traveled down the long red carpet in front of us to the steps where the love of my life stood centered in between our closest friends and family, waiting for me. He gave me a warm, adoring smile and at that moment, I felt my unease melt away, just as it always did when Sidney was near.

“I’m so ready,” I whispered.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

in aeternum, little lamb

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 4756

Prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

———————

It was raining. Again.

Usually a rainstorm was serene and peaceful, normal for London, but there was a certain sticky humidity in the air that made going outside a chore. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that has settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the city. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every person making their rounds through their daily lives.

Anne’s forehead was dotted with beads of sweat by the time she arrived at the theater, only then really regretting her decision to walk to work. She hadn’t been expecting the humidity to be that bad, but here she was, feeling like she was leaking steam from every pore.

“God, this weather is miserable,” Jane was grumbling in her dressing room when Anne peeked in. She was currently attempting to tame her wild blonde hair (and losing the battle), which had a small (read as: large, high, anything but small) tendency to frizz up in high vaporous atmospheres like the one drenching London on that day.

“You look great, Jane.” Anne laughed, leaning on the doorframe. She gets a piercing grey glower shot in her direction, but isn’t phased by it. The coldness of the stare almost eased her internal temperature.

“Why is it so damn humid?” Jane finally exclaimed. “We live in London! Not Florida or whatever the fuck it’s called—”

Anne bit both lips, trying to hold back her laughter at the proper fit the queen before her was throwing.

“It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. Not rainy and a LITERAL SAUNA!”

Kitty, who was sitting nearby at her own makeup table, giggled softly. She got up and picked up a brush to help with her mother’s wild hair, which was definitely puffing up as if she were an angry cat or a distressed Studio Ghibli character.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Anne laughed slightly. “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. You two need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “A word with Mother Nature.”

Anne laughed again, waved a hand, and walked off to the break room.

Well- it wasn’t really a break room, per se. Theaters didn’t really have those. It was just an extra dressing room that nobody used and had a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee machine inside. In some way or another, a round bar table, small couch, and two beanbags ended up inside- Anne couldn’t really remember how they got there, but they were there and, thus, the room became a nice place to chat and relax when nothing was going on. Kitty had once even hid under the twin beanbags during a game of hide-and-seek (which was also her idea).

Upon stepping inside the break room, the scent of coffee bombarded Anne’s nose. The coffee machine was still on, but little was left in the pot. She walks over to it, thinking it was enough to sate her- she didn’t really like coffee, but she needed the extra rush to help her combat the dreariness the weather was inflicting upon her.

“Sorry,” A voice from behind suddenly said. “If I had known you wanted some, I would have made more.”

Anne actually jumped and she whirled around to see none other than the music director sitting in one of the beanbags. She jumped, too, and straightened up, nearly spilling the mug she had placed beside her pillowy seat.

“Sorry!” She said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anne placed a hand over her racing heart and waved the other dismissively, laughing.

“It’s alright!” She assured the girl. “I didn’t see you at all!”

Joan smiled slightly, humoring her comment, then slumped back over to continue reading the book she had in her lap.

Anne studies her for a moment- as everyone said, Joan wasn’t much for conversation, despite always lurking on the edges of a group discussion. It was like she wanted to join in or just talk to someone, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Perhaps she was worried about being ignored or rejected, so, instead, she just watched in silence.

Maybe that’s why a few younger stagehands who were working there for college credit started calling her the “Theater Ghost.” Anne couldn’t really deny that that title wasn’t accurate- her not noticing the girl at all just proved that it was.

“Did you drink all of this?” She asked, trying to strike up a conversation to make things less awkward. Tenseness was as thick as the humidity outside in that room.

“It’s not that big of a pot...” Joan sort of mumbled.

So, yes. She did.

Anne frowned slightly. She vaguely knew of Joan’s caffeine addiction, but never really saw it first hand. She just knew that the girl drank more coffee than everyone working on the show combined.

“I see,” Anne chuckled. “Well, alright.”

She turned around while waiting for the pot to fill to see that Joan was looking at her. However, when she noticed, Joan snapped her head back down to her book. Anne furrowed her eyebrows.

“What are you reading?”

“Huh?” Joan seemed...surprised that Anne was asking her something. “Oh, it’s just- it’s just some silly book.” She kicked her leg anxiously against the beanbag, seemingly trying to hype herself up for something. “It’s, umm- it’s called Wings of Fire.”

She brandishes the book, keeping one finger inside the pages to mark her spot. On the cover was a flying gold and black dragon with four insect wings, spines along the back, and funny little glasses on the snout (something about dragons having eyesight care and possibly dragon eye doctors stood out as silly to Anne).

“It looks good,” Anne said after inspecting the picture.

“Oh, it is!” Joan said, perking up slightly. “It’s about these ten dragon tribes and five baby dragons were supposed to be born on The Brightest Night and be the Dragonets of Destiny to stop the war between three Sandwings fighting to be queen. So they’re kept underground, but their caretakers are kinda abusive and mean. Probably because the Skywing egg was destroyed so they had to replace it with a Rainwing egg, which are supposed to be the laziest tribe and that makes Kestrel- the really mean guardian- mad. So she’s kinda a jerk to the five dragonets. But then they break out of their cave before they’re supposed to leave when they’re six, because they have to wait until they’re seven, only to be captured by the Skywing queen! And they’re forced to fight to the death and they’re almost killed because this one character, Peril, can burn everything she touches! But then it’s revealed that Clay, he’s the Mudwing, has fireproof scales! And Glory, she’s the Rainwing I was talking about, can spit venom!! Then they escape and go to the Seawing kingdom and Tsunami- the Seawing- is actually the missing Seawing princess and a statue was killing all the other eggs. Then they go to the rainforest and Glory becomes queen and Starflight goes blind in the fourth book and the end of the war happens in the fifth!!” She’s babbling about a hundred miles per minute- Anne can barely keep up. “We should- we should read it together! If you’re interested. Like a book club! Except I’m on the twelfth book right now and I don’t know how fast you can read and I just basically spoiled the entire series, hahaha...but only for the first five!! But the next arc isn’t that good if you ask me. It completely throws everything that has happened out the window and just puts new characters in a school? Which they barely even stay at! So why even make the school, Tui? And my favorite character in that segment is in a coma for, like, three of the five books in that arc!! Arc three is pretty cool, though. I like the new tribes. And Sundew is supposed to be a lesbian! With an actual girlfriend! And it’s a main plot point!!” She’s beaming now. “I just—I think you would really, really like it and, I dunno...it would be fun! I can read it aloud? N-not because I think you can’t read or anything, I just—like talking. To someone. And to make sure you don’t doze off and miss any of the really good parts! Because there are SO MANY even though Tui doesn’t seem to remember any of her world building half of the time, but—”

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Joan’s face flashed deep crimson. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and ducked her head, almost using her book as a shield to hide herself. It seems she just realized that she had been talking the green queen’s ear off.

“Sorry,” She whispered. “I-I just thought that you wanted to...” She shook her head. Her hands clench around the sides of her book. “Nevermind.”

“Joan-”

“Your coffee is gonna get cold.”

Anne looked at the full coffee pot, then back to the girl, and then walked over to get herself a cup. She can hear Joan shifting anxiously in the beanbag behind her.

Honestly, she found the girl’s deep interest in what she was reading quite endearing, she just didn’t know how to reply to her monologue in a way that showed that she actually was interested in what she was saying.

“Maybe send me the link to the book sometime?” Anne offered while heading for the door. “Or if you have a physical copy...”

“Yeah,” Joan smiles thinly- weakly. “I have some at home. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, and— Anne?”

Anne stopped right as she was walking out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Joan looked down shyly, shifting her legs.

“For talking to me.”

———

“She thanked me. For standing there while she was ranting about a book!”

The other queens looked rather amused by the story they were given during dinner. It wasn’t exactly the reactions Anne was hoping for- was nobody else concerned by the oddity of the situation?!

“Joan’s a...quirky kid.” Jane merely said. “She’s always been a little strange, Anne. I’m almost positive she was raised by literal street rats, so that might have something to do with it. Rats aren’t exactly much for conversation.”

Anne looked at her in shock. Of everyone to say such a thing, she hadn’t expected it to come from Jane “Protective and Loving Mom Friend” Seymour.

“Did you just—”

“Anne,” Jane sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. She worked for you! She’s just a weird kid. Kids are weird!”

“‘Weird’ is when a kid likes to watch snails go over salt and get burned, Jane. Thanking someone for listening to them talk about a book is concerning.” Anne argued.

“Cathy does it all the time.”

“Cathy doesn’t thank us!”

Anne was really getting worked up over this and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She really only got this way for Kitty or Maggie- she theorized it was those maternal instincts kicking in or just a natural protectiveness for an ex-maid in waiting.

Whatever it was, it sure seemed to be amusing to the others.

“Okay, calm down, Anne.” Cleves said, laughing slightly. “We get it, you think it’s worrying. No need to start a food fight over it.”

“I’m not going to-” Anne broke off into agitated grumbling, which caused even more giggles in reaction.

“I said thank you to Catherine when I read to her yesterday,” Cathy said.

“That’s because you were asking her opinion on a chapter you wrote!” Anne struck back. “It is NOT the same thing!”

Cathy shrugged and took a bite out of her pork chop.

“It’s nothing you should stress about, Annie.” Kitty said. “Maybe some people are just meant to be alone!”

Anne gave her a look of disbelief.

“Like Henry.” Cleves put in helpfully.

“Like Henry, yeah!”

Now, don’t get Anne wrong, she loved her little found family with the queens very much, but, at that moment, she wanted to hit all of them with the salad bowl at the center of the table as hard as she could.

Maybe not Aragon, though (unfortunately). The woman hadn’t told Anne to forget about the situation or just move on- she was thoughtfully silent, eating her dinner in reserved peace. Whatever her opinion on the argument was, she didn’t say it.

Anne sighed, putting her head in one hand as she picked at her dinner until Aragon finally spoke up to tell her to get her elbow off the table. She begrudgingly obeys.

Like that, the conversation is dropped and something new, something Anne really didn’t care about was talked about.

After dinner, Anne decided to do some snooping on her laptop. First, she looked up historical information on Joan, only to find nothing. Every website was just the same thing over and over again- literally. It was just copied and pasted from the extremely short and vague Wikipedia page on the girl. The names of her parents weren’t even recorded, nor was any childhood information. There was barely even anything on her time as a lady in waiting, which only covered her work under Jane and not either of the cousins.

She had a son named Hercules, though. If that meant anything.

Next, Anne went to Joan’s Instagram page. It had several hundred followers, mainly from the fans who insisted on following everyone associated with the show, and was filled with the normal posts the actors usually had- although there were very few compared to the queen’s and other ladies in waiting’s accounts. Most of the photos were of her work or her playing the songs on her piano or of selfies of her in the band costume.

In almost all of them, she was completely alone.

Anne searched for something- she didn’t know what exactly, just something- in the seventh-five posts on the account, then went to the photos Joan was tagged in. There weren’t many- just group photos and a few good shots of her from a MegaSix and a single appreciation post (she vaguely remembered Joan telling them about it and how giddy it had made her...nobody had really listened to the babbling at the time).

And then Anne found a certain photo- the first one she was ever tagged in: it was a photo of her costume laid out on a table with the caption, “Here’s the lady in waiting costume! I’ll be posting about SIX more on my other account, so follow if you’re interested!”

The name of the account was @force-be-with-ewe.

Anne clicked on it.

force-be-with-ewe

i just really like drawing sheep

Johanna-She/her-Asexual lesbian-Musician and artist

That’s the first thing Anne saw when she clicked on the account, along with an adorable profile picture of a sheep playing a piano, then the whopping twelve followers (most of which were ghosts or bots) and three hundred and nine posts.

It took Anne just a moment to realize that this was Joan’s personal account.

And she went through all of it.

The profile was a mishmash of drawings and piano videos and sheep. The latest post was actually a photo of a bird with a caption talking about how the little guy had been visiting Joan’s bedroom window every morning and “giving her a reason to get up because she had someone looking forward to seeing her.” She maturely and proudly dubbed the bird “Minecraft.”

After that were drawings of dragons with #wingsoffire and #wof in the descriptions, leading Anne to believe that they were characters from the book she had been told about earlier that day.

And they just kept going.

Among videos of Joan playing the theater keyboard when presumably nobody was around, were drawings of sheep playing various instruments and sleeping and being adorable, drawings of more dragons, drawings of a few Pokémon (mainly Snom, Wooloo, and Sobble). There were stunning drawings of giant creatures from a game called “Subnautica” and beautiful drawings of castles and scenery. There were even drawings of the queens!

Usually fans would tag them in art, but it appeared that Joan was too shy to do that. So, instead, she just left them floating in her profile with no ways to see the masterpieces, since there weren’t any hashtags on those.

Anne was genuinely amazed by the attention to detail in the sketches of her and her fellow queens and even more amazed by the drawings with watercolors. She swore the painting’s eyes had more color than her own and the costume was as vibrant as the actual one in real life.

It was beautiful. They were all beautiful.

Why didn’t Joan want anyone seeing these?

Anne kept scrolling and eventually came upon rather...concerning posts.

The first was of a messy, but haunting colored pencil sketch of a pitch black ram with inky, bleeding red eyes that seemed to stare through the screen and directly into Anne’s soul. The caption simply said, “Black Philip.”

Another was a drawing of a blonde girl, presumably Joan, leaking coffee from every single orifice on her face and was drawn with such detail that it would easily make an emetophobic’s stoamch churn with nausea.

And then there were a few of an ice dragon, slightly similar to one of the dragon tribes from the book, but this one notably had more icicle spikes, frayed scales, and jagged wings. It was moon silver in color with ice blue hues and eyes like a raging blizzard.

All the drawings done with this beast, which was apparently named “Killer Frost” (and has no ties to the Flash character of the same name), were normal- just it laying around, flying, standing atop icebergs menacingly or breathing a freezing death breath. But there were a few that stood out to Anne as worrying.

The first was of Kitty, actually. She was wearing her show costume and her eyes were closed with a peaceful expression on her face. And then there was the glittering paw of the ice dragon reaching down from the top of the image and cupping one of her cheeks with its serrated, barbed claws. The caption read, “The Chosen One.”

The second and much more concerning drawing was captioned, “Envy truly is a deadly sin.”

It was a drawing of Killer Frost crouched in a feral position, staring forward with blazing eyes, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, absolutely soaked in blood.

There was just blood everywhere. Blood on the body, blood on the claws, blood dripping in horrifying realistic threads from the mouth, blood all over the blank, white floor beneath the beast, blood squirting from the remains of the carcasses that had presumably been gored.

The image left Anne with so many questions- What did this represent? Who were those corpses? Was Joan jealous? And if yes, who was she jealous of?

One thing was certain, though- Joan was startlingly good at drawing gore. A sketch of Killer Frost holding its own gooey, bloody esophagus and larynx in another photo just proved that. There was even one of the dragon ripping its own throat out while the faint outline of what appeared to be three ghosts encouraged it.

It was strange to see such mishmashes of horror shoved in between adorable sketches of sleeping baby lambs and fluffy Wooloos. It also left Anne with growing worry for the artist.

When she finally finished going through the profile, Anne decided the follow the account and became the thirteenth follower.

This time, thirteen would not be an unlucky number.

———

Five books were left on Anne’s dressing room table the next day, all with a colorful dragon on the cover, and a note that read, “I didn’t know if you only wanted one book or all of them, so I just left the first arc. Let me know what you think! :) -Joan”

“Fan mail?” Cleves asked, peeking over to the table from where she was getting ready.

“Nah,” Anne replied. “Just some books.”

“Sounds very cool,” Cleves chuckled before returning to dousing her hair with hairspray.

“Extremely.” Anne said, then set out to find and talk to Joan before the show. She could get her hair and makeup done later!

Except she couldn’t find the girl anywhere. She asked around, but nobody knew where she went. And she was definitely there because Anne saw her onstage right before the performance, but, by then, it was too late to speak to her. Anne just decided to see her afterwards, which was easier said than done because, once again, Joan was nowhere in sight.

Anne was about to give up, since it was almost time to leave, but then she spotted the girl in the break room playing a card game by herself at the round bar table. She considered charging in and barking at her about where she’s been, but she didn’t want to freak her out, so she just walked in calmly.

“Hey, Joan,” She said cooly, noticing the way the music director’s hand froze as she was setting down a card. She grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and sat down at the chair across from Joan. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just...playing a card game my brother taught me.” The girl replied meekly.

Joan had a brother? The articles on her said nothing about him...

“You had cards back then?” Anne asked, as if she hadn’t been born in the same time period.

“No, we used strips of wood we would tear off from people’s houses and carved symbols on them with knives.”

Anne blinked.

“...Oh. That’s...”

“Concerning?” Joan finally glanced up from her deck of cards to look at Anne. A ghost of a smile graced her lips for a moment before she tilted her head back down with a light laugh. “I know.”

“Mind if I play?”

She’s glanced at again- scanned, as if Joan was expecting her to pull something and make a joke out of her. But then she gave in and began collecting the cards from how they’re laid out on the table.

“This game is too complicated to explain,” She said. “But we can play Speed?”

After a quick rundown of the rules, Anne agreed and the game began.

And honestly? It was great. Joan genuinely laughed and smiled as they playfully bickered and argued over the card game. She almost looked like a happy little lamb frolicking in a field of flowers.

On their third round, Kitty peeks into the break room.

“There you are, Annie!” She said. “I was looking for you!”

“Oh, hey, Kit!” Anne said. Out of the corner of her eye, she definitely saw Joan clench her jaw. The drawing of Kitty and Killer Frost’s claws and then the bloody sketch briefly flashed in her mind. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving,” Kitty informed. “We had dinner plans tonight, remember?”

Joan sighed softly and began to pick up the cards. Anne gently pressed her hand down.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight, Kit.”

Both blondes looked shocked- Joan more than Kitty from the way her head whipped up fast enough to give her whiplash.

“How come?” Kitty asked, clearly confused. “I thought you really wanted to go to this pub...”

“I know, but I’m hanging out with Joan right now.” Anne said. “Just bring me home something if you can!”

Kitty blinked several times, glanced at Joan, then nodded and walked out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Joan whispered.

“I wanted to, though.” Anne assured her. She gently took the deck of cards from Joan’s clenched hands and began dealing them out. “Wanna keep playing Speed or try War? I’ve played with Aragon before. I swear, she ALMOST broke my nose in anger!”

“You followed me last night.”

Anne blinked.

“Yeah, of course,” She said. “I had no idea you could draw so well. You’re very talented.”

A hot pink blush dusts Joan’s cheeks and she looked away. She anxiously plays with the corner of an ace of spades. The slight drizzle that had been tapping on the window starts to pick up.

“I-”

She’s embarrassed, Anne realized. Embarrassed and horrified because she knows Anne saw the gruesome drawings she had made.

She believes that Anne thinks she’s sick. Or a freak. Or a monster.

Anne would admit that they’re a little weird, but a lot of artists liked to make horrific art. Nothing wrong with that, especially if they were vents.

“Joan-”

“Why are you doing this?” Joan asked quietly. She looked up and centuries worth of loneliness and neglect and pain reflect in her stormy grey eyes. “What do you want?”

Finally, Anne understood.

“Look,” Anne said. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Joan froze. She just stared at Anne in shock for a long time before tears fill her eyes and start to run down her cheeks. She tries to stop them, but it’s clear she’s been bottling this all up for a long time and won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

“Y-you want to be my friend?” Joan whispered.

“Yes, Joan.” Anne answered her honestly, not missing a beat. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

The most heartbreaking whimper Anne has ever heard strangled itself out of Joan’s throat. The tears start to come down faster.

“N-nobody— Nobody has ever w-wanted to—”

“Oh, Joan...”

Anne quickly got out of her chair and walked around to Joan’s side of the table. She wrapped her arms around the girl and she immediately slumped into her embrace, clinging back like Anne was her life line.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne said again. “Oh, you poor, sweet little thing...”

Joan began to openly sob against her shoulder. Her hands claw at the back of Anne’s shirt, desperate for a good hold.

“I’ve- I’ve been alone f-for so long—” She wept.

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her. She began to rub her back soothingly. “I’ve got you now, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

That elicits a sharp whimper from Joan, who burrows herself even closer to the queen’s warmth. And she stays like that, half slid out of her stool, clutching onto Anne Boleyn like her life depended on it until she was able to choke back the rest of her tears.

“Feeling any better?” Anne asked. She was still rubbing Joan’s back, as the girl had yet to pull back from the embrace.

Joan shrugged weakly. “A-little.” She croaked. “N-not...not good. But better. B-because you’re here.”

Anne’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

“You sweet girl,” She said lovingly. “I want to be here for you from now on. Is that alright?”

Joan nodded. “Please...”

“Alright,” Anne said. She gently pressed Joan back and gave her her water bottle, which she never actually opened. “Drink something for me, sweetheart.”

Joan obeyed and took a few small sips of the water. It soothed her dry throat, which was weak from the outpour of emotions.

“Good girl,” Anne said encouragingly. “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we go back to my house and watch a movie? I know there’s a tray of lasagna we could heat up! If you want to, that is.”

“N-no, that’s-” Joan sniffled. “I would really, really like that...”

Anne smiled warmly at her.

“Wonderful.”

———

When the other queens came home later that evening, none of them were expecting to see Anne sitting on the couch with the music director’s head in her lap, but that’s the sight they were greeted to.

They both looked content, Anne with a loving smile on her lips and Joan with a peaceful expression settled on her face as she slept. One of Anne’s hands was stroking through Joan’s hair and the other was holding a book, which she looked up from when the front door opened.

“Hey, ladies,” She said, momentarily setting down Wings of Fire- The Dragonet Prophecy. “How was dinner?”

———

A day later, Anne got a notification on her phone saying that @force-be-with-ewe had posted. When she checks it, she sees a digital drawing of Killer Frost being nuzzled lovingly by a large, emerald green dragon.

The caption simply reads, “Thank you for giving me a chance”

[nijiirorhyme]

NaruMitsu/WrightWorth Fic: Lights, Camera, Action!

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Ship: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Warnings: None

Tags:Alternate Universe - Actors, Other Additional Tags to be Added, More characters to be added

Description: Rookie actor Phoenix Wright can not believe his luck as he scores his first major acting role in one of the most anticipated movies of the year. But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with famous actor Miles Edgeworth.

A Wrightworth acting au where two dorks (eventually) fall in love!  

Chapter 1/?

Alternatively, it can be read here!

Text underneath cut!

Act 1 Scene 1

 October 5th, 11:00pm

 Phoenix’s Apartment

Phoenix COULD NOT believe his luck. It was as if lady luck herself were watching over him specifically, feeling so sorry for him that she had to throw him a bone. He could not thank her enough. It seemed as if his life were doing a complete turnabout. Up until now and ever since he had graduated from some third rate university’s performing arts program, he never had the pleasure of striking a role anywhere near being a part of the main cast, but this, this was different. Sure, he had made small cameos as extras in movies, but none of those were enough to give him the boost he needed to put his name on the map. This was the real deal. He would have lines to say, scenes to act, parts where he’d be the one in the limelight. He was just offered the biggest acting gig in his entire life.

‘Lady luck, I know I asked you for help last night,’ he thought to himself, ‘but you didn’t have to go this far for me!’

But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with someone who was currently the world's most famous actor. Miles Edgeworth, a man who the world knew nothing about personally, but that his acting was absolutely phenomenal. Everyone— even their mothers and grandmothers— knew of him, but, it wasn’t until Pearls dragged the man to see one of her cheesy, sappy romance movies starring the mysterious man himself that he finally saw what justified the hype around him.

Romance movies weren’t really Phoenix’s thing as he tended to sleep through most of them. What he could recall of the movie, however, was that the plot was pretty standard; the main female protagonist living her life in poverty while her male counterpart was born into a wealthy family. After the two miraculously begin to date, the couple struggles to find acceptance from the man’s family as they already had a fiance picked out for him. This was all quite cliche in Phoenix’s book, but there was one scene in particular that stuck out to him.

Failing to gain acceptance from the man’s family, the man and the woman impulsively run away together during an explosive argument that erupted between the four. Well, more-so drove away, but that was besides the point. The rain pelted down upon their car as they drove down the winding road as fast as they could, but that had been the man’s fatal mistake. As they came upon their final turn, the man lost control of the steering wheel and the speed they had garnered caused the car to topple over several times before it finally came to a stop. Somehow (though Phoenix thought this defied all odds), the man was fortunate enough to only receive injury to his right arm and was able to wiggle himself free from the car, however, his girlfriend was more than misfortunate. The adrenaline pumped through his blood as he ignored his arm’s cry in pain as he tried to wretch her free from the car. His hands were covered in her blood as he laid her on his lap, knowing the inevitable that she would succumb to her injuries before they were even able to call for help.

His eyes looked into hers, a mix of pain and regret swirling around in his dark orbs. He drove too fast, he should have taken his time, he was about to lose the love of his life— Her voice was enough to snap him out of his thoughts, the booming sound of the thunder almost deafening. She gave him her final words, and just like that, the final bit of life evident in her eyes finally fades and her body goes limp in his arms. The man looked up to the overclouded sky, the rain beating upon his face as he gave  the heavens one last dramatic scream of her name before the movie faded away into a pitch black.

Throughout the entire scene, all Phoenix could do was stare at the big screen. There was something mesmerizing about the way Miles Edgeworth acted. He analyzed the actor’s every move, even the subtle ones that would be invisible to those who didn’t graduate from a third-rate performance arts program, yet contributed an overarching mood to the entire scene. The way his face contorted and twisted and scrunched up in pain as he was filled with regret from his actions, the way his eyes looked into hers in desperation that this was all just a dream— that he wasn’t just about to lose the one he fought so hard alongside, it left a heavy feeling in Phoenix’s chest that almost burst forth from it in the form of tears. Miles Edgeworth brought life to a character from a movie genre Phoenix hated, and not only made him sympathize with the corny character, but almost made him tear up, which to this day he still could not believe.

Phoenix was never a fan of romance movies, especially the ones that Pearls picked out (though he never voiced his complaints aloud) because he thought he could feel his teeth rotting away in his mouth from the sheer sappiness and disgusting sweetness of them, but this one was the only one he approved of.

… Even though it was at the expense of his own friend’s enjoyment.

Phoenix sighed at the memory of what happened afterwards. Pearl was the type of hardcore romance fan who only gravitated towards romance movies where the couple lived happily ever after at the end. Why she chose this movie was beyond Phoenix. Perhaps she glossed over the summary of the story after selectively reading the part where the female protagonist goes from “rags-to-riches” and thought it was something along the lines of Cinderella, completely missing the “this tragic story of her attempt to go from rags-to-riches”... or something. She was so depressed that even Phoenix offering to watch her favourite lovey-dovey romance movie for the gazillionth time wouldn’t cheer her up.

From that point on, Miles Edgeworth swept up the nation’s awards that year for his acting in that movie, including the “Best Male Lead Actor of the Year” award at the Movie of Movies Grand Prix— and to Phoenix, rightfully so. The man’s performance was amazing, yet he couldn’t help wanting to pick a bone with the panel of judges who thought that it deserved “Best Movie of the Year”. He totally thought that the Steel Samurai movie deserved to win (not like he had a bias or anything because his friend Austin Powers starred in it); just because one actor’s acting was remarkable, did not mean that the rest of the movie lived up to such a word.

This was the man that Phoenix had the pleasure of working with and although a part of him was excited, an immense sense of pressure ruined it. Miles Edgeworth was a man who had years of experience under his belt in comparison to himself. That fact in itself was enough to make the butterflies in his stomach awake from their slumber; he hadn’t felt this nervous in ages.

Phoenix glanced at the thick booklet of papers in his hand titled "No Time for Turnabouts: Script”, its thick blocky text staring back at him. With an unsteady sigh, he flipped it open to the first page. If Phoenix wanted to impress Miles Edgeworth at tomorrow’s pre-production meeting, there was only one thing he could do. If he couldn’t rely on his acting skills to impress him, the least he could do was come prepared to what he was about to walk into.

 October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios: Dressing Room

“For the last time, must I act with such an incompetent rookie?” Miles looked at his manager, eyes narrowed fiercely in an attempt to assert his dissatisfaction at the current situation. “He’s not had any starring roles within the span of his career,” is what a quick IMDb search of the other’s peculiar name told the man. “In fact, I’ve never heard of him before.”

The girl sitting adjacent from him brought a dainty teacup to her lips, taking a sip of her tea before placing it back on its saucer with a cold clink, the cunningness of her eyes colliding with his own, “And like I have told you when you foolishly asked several foolish times before this, it is not within my control,” she shrugged, her mouth curling into a shit-eating grin, “You’ll just have to suck it up, little brother.”

Miles scoffed, but she had a point. It wasn’t his manager, Franziska Von Karma, hiring the cast for this movie, it was the director. This director was someone who he had worked with in the past and every single time, Miles had loved every single creative direction he had taken with the movie; as did the audience, each movie of his being met with positive reviews from viewers and film critics alike. Miles did not doubt his abilities and because of his positive reputation within the film industry, if he wanted to hire a rookie whose career only consisted of being an extra for a few scenes in a few big movies, all he could do was put his faith in him. However, just because he put his faith in him did not mean he approved.

He took a sip of his own tea, before he glanced at the expensive watch adorning his wrist. Today was their first proofreading of the script. There, Miles could finally see who this Phoenix Wright man was.

“Come now, you fool, or we’ll be late.” Franziska was already rolling up her whip in a neat circle and heading towards the door.

Miles put his tea cup down on the glass coffee table, moving his hands to fix his jabot as he stood up. Miles Edgeworth was a man with high standards, and whoever this Phoenix Wright was, Miles hoped he could meet his expectations.

 October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios

Phoenix’s days couldn’t have been getting any better. The rookie actor was known for never being on time for anything—often receiving a scolding from Maya as a result—but just this once, he had managed to be punctual— if not a little early— for the one thing that mattered the most. He thanked god that he had the foresight to check whether or not he had set his alarm for A.M instead of P.M before he went to bed last night. Phoenix checked himself in the mirror once before he left the house; donning a plain white dress shirt and navy blue slacks. He adjusted the tie around his neck, the last thing he wanted to do was make a bad impression. Giving himself one final hurrah, encouraging himself in the mirror with “you can do this”, and “you got this”, he left his small flat with his head held high.

However, at this point in time, the closer he got to the time of the pre-production meeting, the more nervous he felt. He stood outside the meeting room, checking his wristwatch as he shifted in place from the heels of his feet to the balls of them.

“Nick!” Behind him, a set of hands placed themselves on his shoulder as a familiar energetic voice spooked him out of his nervousness, causing him almost to jump out of his skin. “Are you nervous?”

Phoenix peered over his left shoulder, unsurprised at who it was. It was Maya, who decided to meet him at the studio. If Phoenix had to go in there alone when his agent was perfectly capable of accompanying him, he would curse her to hell and back.

He clutched his chest, heart beating rapidly in his ears. Then, he relaxed and exhaled an exasperated sigh as if this has happened one too many times, “You scared me, Maya!” He exclaimed. “How many times are you going to do this?”

Even if he used the fingers on both of his hands to count all of the times Maya has done this to him before an audition or anytime he was nervous for that matter, he couldn’t. Mainly because for one, he had been to several auditions in the past few years; and two, he didn’t keep track of how many times she did. He stopped counting after the fifth time when he knew it would become a regular occurence.

“Would it be bad if I said never?” Maya giggled.

Phoenix sighed again, “I figured as much…”

“I’m sorry, Nick! It’s just so funny every single time. Remember that time before that one audition when I scared you so bad you spilled your cup of water all over yourself and it looked like you peed your pants-“

Before Maya could say anymore, Phoenix covered her mouth with his hand, wrenching it back in disgust after he felt something wet against his palm. Maya stuck out her tongue and grinned  childishly as Phoenix furiously wiped his hand against his pant leg. He exhaled, “If I asked you to let that go, I’d get the same answer as before, wouldn’t I?” At this point, defeat would be the only option to settle for.

She put her hands together like she always did and with a big smile on her face, she nodded, “You know me so well.”

The two of them continued their friendly banter, most of which consisted of bringing up terribly embarrassing events that had happened to them in the past in an attempt to embarrass the other. This calmed Phoenix’s nerves immensely; Maya always knew how to calm him down despite always scaring him half out of his wits.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, shifting the topic of conversation to something more relevant than reminiscing on their past embarrassments.

The question was like a reality slap, reawakening the butterflies he had thought he thoroughly rid himself of. “Of course, this is my first time ever getting something better than being an extra. A lot is riding on this, Maya.”

“It’s okay Nick!” She jabbed him lightly in the shoulder… Whatever her definition of “lightly” was. Phoenix rubbed his shoulder. That was definitely going to bruise over. “Just remember this, this is your big chance! Your break-through! Your primer!”

“I think you mean ‘premiere’...”

“All eyes will be on you! If you do great, then you’ll get more work!” She encouraged him, jumping to stand in front of him. She closed one of her eyes while she formed her fingers into a rectangular shape as if she were filming him. Even though it wasn’t a real camera, he still felt a little embarrassed, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. While he appreciated the sentiment, he knew where this was going.

“But…” He added on for her.

“But, if you mess up in your usual ‘Phoenix Wright Fashion’, then you can kiss your non-existent acting career goodbye!” She said in a type of pure adolescent innocence, putting her hands on her hips.

Phoenix shoved his face into his palm, “Thanks Maya…”  

“Any time.” She beamed at him, genuinely convinced that her words were words of encouragement instead of ones that felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.

Suddenly, as if something had caught in the corner of her eye, she looked down the hallway. “Psst, Nick!! Nick!!” She ecstatically whispered in a half-whisper-half-regular tone. “Is that Miles Edgeworth?!”

Phoenix followed her line of vision to the figure emerging from one of the many rooms down the hall. He knew that burgundy suit from anywhere, the feature that many people recognized him for. There was no one else in the world who could wear a suit that colour and could successfully pull it off, in Phoenix’s humble opinion.

The tall man stalked down the hallway accompanied by a shorter woman which Phoenix assumed to be his agent, Franziska von Karma. Although they weren’t close yet, he could feel the immense pressure in the air from the dignified aura that the two created. There was something intimidating about their aura, an elitist air that clearly separated the two individuals who were experienced in their field from the two weren’t-- almost as if it screamed ‘don’t talk to us’. Was that how it was around every famous actor?

“T-They’re coming closer to us! What do we do, Nick? Do we introduce ourselves?” Maya panicked, the words flying from her mouth at a mile per minute.

“Well, we are standing in front of the meeting room and from today on, he is our co-worker,” Phoenix whispered back to her, his tone more hushed than hers. “I think… I think we should greet them.” He suggested.

The two nodded as if they had come to an understanding by looking into each other’s eyes. Then, on the mental count of three that perfectly aligned with their arrival, Phoenix stiffly began, “Hi! I see we’ll be working together, Mr. Edgeworth. In that case, i-it’s nice to meet you!” He stuck out a hand, hoping the man would outstretch his own to shake it.

The man came to a stop and instead of getting a comforting smile and the handshake he desired, all Phoenix got was a piercing glare full of annoyance. “Mr. Wright,” he scoffed. “I would ask that you keep your interactions with me at a minimum and you do not waste my time by trying to talk to me.” With that, Edgeworth strode past him into the now open meeting room, his agent following behind him, smirking at Phoenix as she entered.

After recovering from the utter shock known as his first impression of the famous actor he had only seen on the big screen thus far, Phoenix turned to Maya, hoping that she would confirm that what just happened was just his mind’s cruel idea of a joke. Unfortunately, Maya nodded at him, confirming that what just happened was in fact not a figment of his imagination. For some reason, the famous Miles Edgeworth disliked the unknown rookie, Phoenix Wright.

‘What…’ Phoenix gulped. ‘What did I do..?!’

[jmcfarlane]

DRONE3

DRONe3

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

[myhockeyworld87]

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 1

Alright, here is the new series I’ve been promising. So remember the books,(and now they have apps) where you chose your own adventure? Well it’s kind of like that. I’m going to try and post this every Wednesday; I will then wait 48 hours for people to vote and tell me how the next part should go. You can do this by commenting in the notes or shooting me a message in my Ask Me Anything box if you want to be anonymous. This is either going to be a great idea I had or really dumb. I guess we will see….haha. I just thought it would be a fun way to be a little more active with everyone. I may give it an extra day since this is the first part. Anyway feedback is appreciated. It will jump from different points of views as well.

Word Count: 1630

POV: Tyler

Song Inspiration: Dreamer by Kari Kimmel

Warnings:  None

Notes: So full disclosure, I used to sing in a band for years and sometimes when I listen to those songs again; I get inspired to write. This one totally made me think of a love triangle and who better than Tyler and Jamie. Hope you guys like this. Peace, Love and Hugs Y’All!

It was somewhat exciting to finally meet the woman who had captured Jamie’s attention. She was all he seemed to talk about these days; and from the sounds of it she was really something special. So when he came to you with the idea that you two double date tonight; you had no problem saying yes. It wasn’t like you had someone special in your life, just a regular that you called on from time to time; though she liked to claim she was your girlfriend. As long as you got what you needed, and she kept you off her social sites; you saw no harm in the moniker.

Walking into the quaint little lounge with Kathleen, you saw Jamie seated at a table close to the front. Jamie’s girl was new to the area, moving here for a job; though she had a gig singing at a club from time to time. Tonight being one of those nights. “Hey guys,” Jamie greeted you. “It’s good to see you again Kathleen.” Luckily Kathleen wasn’t too bright and missed the side eye Jamie gave you. He kept insisting the doe-eyed girl was bad news; vaguely you wondered if he was right. “(Y/N) is up shortly, then after her set, she’ll join us.”

“Do you think you could get any closer to the stage Chubbs? I don’t think I can see anything from here.” You had to give him a hard time. It was easy to tell he was in love.

“Whatever Segs. Try not to be an ass tonight.”

A waitress came by and took your drink orders, Jamie knowing her name; since he’d become a regular here. “What me an ass? Never.” Mockingly you put your hand to your heart; as if Jamie’s accusations hurt you. “In all honesty I’m anxious to meet this woman, who you can’t seem to stop talking about.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her. I’m sure you’re going to love her just like I do.” Kathleen faked coughed; as if to draw attention to herself. Jamie was right you really needed to cut the poor girl loose; she was only a plus one, here to be silent and look pretty, that was all.

The lights dimmed then, a spotlight focused on an empty piano on stage; drawing the attention of the audience. Slowly band members came in focus, before a figure hidden in shadows made their way onto the stage. At that moment you could only see her hourglass figure; something that appealed to your masculine nature. As she took the seat at the piano, the details of her face came into focus; they were details that were familiar to you. It was only her profile but you would swear on a stack of bibles you knew that face; it haunted you in your dreams. Notes floated to your brain, as her fingers deftly moved over the keys. It was a sad melody, one you didn’t recognize; but then her voice broke through the fog in your brain.

Used to laugh aloud when you’re around,

now your far away

Can’t even hear me

Every other word you said to me

As I fell asleep

Are now, just fading whispers

I can’t remember

I believe we were in this together

Giving everything for a chance at forever

It all started rushing back to you. Two summers ago in Toronto, you’d met her at some boating party; she’d been a guest of a friend and had immediately captured your attention. The two of you had flirted wildly, and it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you took her home that night to your downtown apartment. From there it had been one passionate night after another. She was a fire that wouldn’t quit burning inside you; nor did you want it to die. She would work during the day and you would train; but every night was spent together. To say that you fell fast and hard, would be an understatement; you fell madly in love with her days after knowing her. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of her.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better

And I thought you had a dream here too.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better

Cause now I have to live, have to live

In this dream without you.

On the weekends, you took her to your house on the lake; where at night you would lay out on a blanket and look at all the stars. She told you all her dreams, and you’d confided yours in turn. She’d always had a passion for singing, and she had the voice of an angel; though it didn’t pay the bills. So, instead she sang for fun. She would sing in the shower, until you joined her and then instead of a melody filling the room, it was her moans; you could still hear them. Though now her voice was filled with sadness, as the song in the present continued.

With every other word you made me yours,

With every wish you breathed, and every promise.

How did ya read my mind, tell me every line that I longed to hear,

Well you were so convincing, but you left me empty.

I remember when we were both so naive,

And now you’re telling me that you never believed.

The two of you would make love for hours. Then you’d lay in bed, holding her in your arms; as you whispered how you never wanted to let her go. How you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. All those words had been true then, you believed them as much as she did. You had painted a beautiful picture of the two of you; happily married, kids running around the house. It was what you both wanted; even thought that’s where you were headed.

When did it all become too much

And couldn’t you fight a little harder for us.

You traded dreams for reality, and promises you couldn’t keep

And nothing was the way it seemed.

The words resonated in your brain. How did things go wrong? You’d made her promises of love, of a life filled with forever. But then you’d gone back to Dallas, and all those promises got thrown out the door in one night, when you’d let too much alcohol get the best of you. You’d woken up with some random chick draped across you. Vaguely, you remembered rushing out of the room and calling (Y/N), though it was too late. Mike Stud, had captured your little tryst on Instagram; the thirty seconds did more damage than you could’ve ever thought. She didn’t answer the phone for two days, and when she did, she told you to go to hell; and so you did. Drinking and partying, trying to forget the one woman you wanted to spend your life with. Until now, now you were sitting front row, while she sang what was undoubtedly a song about the two of you.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better;

And I thought you had a dream here too.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better;

Cause now I have to live, have to live in this dream without you.

I should’ve known better.

Oh and I thought you had a dream here too

I’m a dreamer who should’ve known better

because now I have to live have to live in this dream without you.

As the last strands of the melody faded away, you felt a tear slide down your cheek.She didn’t need to live a life without you; you were right here. You could have everything back; only now she was with your best friend. Who when you looked over was beaming with pride, at what you were sure was the love of his life. Anger boiled inside you, it wasn’t fair; Jamie couldn’t be in love with her; not when (Y/N) was yours.

The next thought that jumped into your head, was how in the hell was she with Jamie? Your mind raced back to what Jamie had told you about her. They met at the supermarket of all places, she’d slipped or something; you couldn’t recall the exact details. Distantly you remembered him saying something about her not knowing he played hockey; but he really hadn’t gone into specifics. You searched your mind to try and recall if you’d ever talked about Jamie to (Y/N) two years ago; but you weren’t sure. The two of you had focused solely on each other, not really caring about the outside world. Of course she knew you played hockey for the Dallas Stars; so how did she not connect the dots with Jamie. There were a million questions, swirling around in your head; and only one woman could answer them. Currently, she was up on stage belting out another tune. There was no way you could sit there another second; your heart was beating fast and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Excusing yourself from the table you got up; walking straight out the door. It took you a full five minutes before you could collect yourself and go inside.

——————————————————————————————————————

Alright, now it’s your turn to make the next choice in the story. Should Tyler:

Walk back inside and go straight back behind stage to confront you.

Walk back inside, sit back down at the table and wait for a better opportunity to talk to you.

Walk back inside and pretend he doesn’t remember you.

Walk away! This was a stupid idea and I should just end this story.

The choice is your. You can send your A, B, C or D answer in the comments or to my Ask Me Anything box if you’d like to remain anonymous.

[vanaera]

Reds, Spaces, and Signs

Synopsis | Jeon Jungkook does the good ol' prepping up his girlfriend with ice cream and movies to help her through her red days. The only difference is, you're actually his girl-space-friend and he hopes that someday, you may eliminate that space between you. Lucky for him, you may do so tonight. Pairing | Jungkook x reader Genre | Flufffy dy fluffy dy fluff Wordcount | 1.9k

A/N | This is somehow related to the request so yeah…I hope you enjoy this anon as much as I enjoyed writing this while having a terrible red day. Thank you so much for loving this drabble series!

Read more of football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

           By the sound of a small 'ding!' and the sight of your name on his notification bar, Jungkook is already crouching down, tying his shoelaces to prep his fifty meter dash to your dorm.

Saturday 7:15 PM

Otor-nim Y/N: Kook, I need you to do the biggest favor of the month.

Otor-nim Y/N: I need long ass pads. I can't fucking move. The satanic waterfalls between my legs is furious as hell. It rained on my pads so bad.

Otor-nim Y/N: And yeah, I can't damn move.

           Past him would be totally cringing by now, begrudgingly stomping to the grocery to grab what you need and chunk them all to you on your couch before going out of the door without even a goodbye. However current him is different. Current him is much cooler and manly than past him. Current him is more gentlemanlike and more mature than past him. And current him is in love with you.

           Being his bestfriend for so many years, you have dealt with his too-many-to-count nonsense comebacks, childish competitiveness, annoying shenanigans, and stupid misadventures. You've helped him find his dream of playing football, tutored him for free on his difficult subjects, and...okay you've always been there to bring him back to rationality whenever he's about to do one of the stupidest things you’ll soon put down in a book titled Jungkook's Endless Shits. You even sit and wait on the bleachers for him to finish his night practices whenever you can just so you can go home together. You've also stayed up with him countless of nights, pressing down ice packs on his sore legs when he's done with long trainings and big matches on the field since high school. By now, it's obvious that he should return the favor, right? Growing up with you ever since he's a troublesome six-year-old, the idea of you being completely stuck by his side till you both grow old has already embedded itself on his head. Although back then, he meant living in a nice house in the future with your own house just across or beside his, your own families growing close to each other. Right now, however, he imagines you being with him inside his own house and building your own family. So knowing you’re one of the women who’s got the worst dysmenorrheas ever, of course, he's gotta take care of you so you'll still be alive when the day he'll finally be a man to confess these stuff to you - Okay, this is complete nonsense, so anyway-

Saturday 7:16 PM

Star Kook: on my way

Otor-nim Y/N: Thank you, Kook! Oh and bring that film Tae is Talking about.

Star Kook: Love, Rosie?

Otor-nim Y/N: Yesssss

Star Kook: Okay

Otor-nim Y/N: Have I ever told u that I LuV Ya??????

Star Kook: Ew.

 Oh god, does he wish you mean that. Please bless his rampaging heart.

 //

            Three knocks were made against the door before Jungkook uses the spare key of your room you gave to him. At the sound of your door unlocking, you look up from your haphazard state of your right leg laid on your couch and the other on the floor.

           You pull yourself to see him. "Heya Kook! That was...fast."

           "Yeah, what do you expect from me?" He gives you a smug smile, walking to your couch to land his butt alogside yours with a plop. He wouldn’t tell you that he actually spent a long ass time deciphering the best brand of pads in the convenience store. "You know I'll always be fast. It's the Jeon Effect."

           The stink eye you're giving him made him lean back and release a loud guffaw. You're probably slapping his face in your head.

           "Here's the pads. And yeah. I bought you ice cream and Chinese takeout."

           "Really?!" You turn your body towards him, eyes bright.

           Jungkook smiles, eyes mimicking the crescents of the moon. God, even if your hair has yet to feel the bristles of your brush, even if you look so pale with no make-up on, even if you practically look like death in front of him, you look so beautiful.  

           Jungkook clears his throat. "Yeah, really. Now sit down. I'll grab us some spoons, then we'll watch the movie. What do you wanna eat first? Ice cream or the take out?"

           "Hmm...I'll go with ice cream."

           "As always. Dessert before the main course."

           You chuckle as you return his grin. "Dessert before the main course."

           Ten minutes later into Love Rosie, you've already curled up on your couch, head now placed on your bestfriend’s lap when a few minutes prior it was settled on the crook of his neck and shoulder. The rhythmic feeling of Jungkook’s fingers carding through your locks was probably the culprit. Anyway, it was only then that you seemed to remember something.

           “Kook…”

           “Yeah?” Jungkook stops the movements of his fingers, angling his face towards you.

           “I forgot to grab our map.”

           “Oh yeah, okay just sit there. I’ll get it,” he says, immediately grabbing a pillow to place under your head as he scamper to your room.

           The map was easy to find. It’s folded on top of your bed, a blanket studded with colorful stars that have already faded hues through age. While it wasn’t the prettiest fabric, your blanket has served its purpose of providing you comfort and warm, even actually beyond what a blanket could provide. He remembers the seven-year-old you who claimed that this blanket wasn’t a blanket but a map – his and your map to the worlds your creative mind has planned and put into ink on paper. The stories you created grew and grew that you have to immortalize them into something tangential, something real for the fictitious tales you colored his and your life with.

           It took six years in high school before Jungkook realized that this blanket was not just a map for the Emerald Prince’s Kingdom, for the Empire of the Dandelion Lions, or for your favorite Golden Prince and his quest to reunite with his Rose. It was a blanket that always mapped his way back to his home when he ran away and you and your blanket were the only ones that accompanied him that lonely night, back to his self when you covered him in its fabric after one cold night after playing football for the very first time, and back to you when he suddenly avoided you for weeks because of the romantic feelings that grew in his ribcaged heart and all it took was one tearful night and your blanket over your heads to see you, your eyes, and the probability of him balancing the gravitational differences between your hearts. Two years have passed and Jungkook thinks his quest for your affections have also been fruitful, if the pink blush on your cheeks whenever he does surprise bear hugs and uncalled gifts were indicators of that. Anyway, Jungkook is yet to give up. He’s got more years to pour his love for you to make up for his lost chances in the previous years.

           Jungkook makes his way back to you, unfolding the blanket before draping it on your shoulders. He goes back to his seat and settles your head back on his lap. You grab his right hand to put it on your tresses and at the sound of your relieved sigh when he plays with your hair again, he chuckles. “You really like me playing with your hair, huh?”

           “Shut up, Kook.”

           Jungkook laughs. “I’m going to buy you a starry pajamas set when your birthday comes.”

           “Way to break the surprise, Jeon. Anyway, you know I’ll only wear them when you got a set that matches it so you better buy yourself one too. Who knows you’re planning to make me look hideous again.”

           “Of course, Y/N, we have to look horrible together, I’ll make sure of that.” Jungkook  doesn’t reply to your huffs of “how about you look hideous without dragging me into your stupid shits” and just tells you to focus on the movie.

           An hour and forty minutes later, the credits were rolling and Jungkook could feel your soft even breaths. He turns off the TV before crouching down to pick you up in his arms, blanket still draped on your body. You instantly snuggle into the warmth of his arms, the tip of your nose grazes the soft flesh of his neck, making him shudder.

           He sets you on your bed and tucks you comfortably in your blanket. However as he draws back to give you a good night kiss on your forehead you’ll never know off anytime soon, your right hand shoots out and grabs his, immediately sending a thousand electric bolts running rushing through his veins, from your cold hand, the fact you’re actually awake, or the possibility of him almost caught red handed, he doesn’t know.

           “Kook, y’know, Rosie and Alex are kinda stupid.”

           Oh, you’re talking about the film. Jungkook opts to sit on your bed. He doesn’t have it in himself to let your hand go. “Hmm…yeah, why is that?”

           “I don’t know…I mean, they had so many chances to just be brave and say what they felt to each other? They would have…y’know, don’t get through those stupid misunderstandings and conflicts when they just…said it aloud. Ya’get me?”

           Jungkook nods and squeezes your hand. He doesn’t know why, but it felt like a personal attack. All these things he’s been doing, all these staged fronts he pulls up just to keep his cool and not act like he’s actually whipped by you – yeah, they’re kinda stupid. But–

           You flutter your eyelashes at him and let a smile spread on your face. “I know I’m blabbing trash. Anyway, thank you for keeping me company and helping me with my shitty day…yeah…and I hope you won’t go stupid too and just say upfront whatever you’re feeling.”

           Before Jungkook lets your words sink in, he feels a pair of soft lips land on the apples of his cheek, so fast as if a butterfly fluttered past him. Jungkook’s mouth falls open, his hand on his cheek frozen as he turns to look at you, head now ducked beneath your covers.

           “Y-Y/N–“

           “That’s all. G’night, Kook.”

           “O-okay. G’night.”

           Only when Jungkook closes your door does he hear a faint “Love you,” and before he lets his imaginations take control again, he dismisses them and treks back to his dorm.

           Maybe it was all a dream, maybe it was real, but all Jungkook knows, this is a sign, and he sure as hell will not take it for granted. As soon as he reaches his room, he immediately pulls the familiar pink stationery, and the iconic golden crown tape you always find in the love letters addressed to you in your locker. For the very first time, Jeon Jungkook will be honest with everything now. No more pretenses–just him and you, and the reality of his feelings.

“Dear Princess,

It’s time for me to introduce myself. I’m Jeon Jungkook, your childhood friend, and bestfriend for more than ten years, and the Little Prince who’s been sending you love letters for the past six months.”

So…Did you give her the letter?

Not yet, Hyung.

Why?

It’s not the right time, Tae…I-I gotta have the time right.

But I thought you’ll court her for real now?!

I’m self-contradictory, hyung, okay?  I’m stupid, I know. I just-ugh! I just gotta wait…ease my way out of the friend zone, then I’ll send her the letter.

Okay, If you say so.

I will, hyung, I’m sure. Very soon.

A/N pt. 2 | Is this a sign hons? HAHAHAHHA don’t worry, TPAHR won’t be ending anytime soon. I’ve still got loads of stuff planned for this drabble series. Anyway, enjoy the suspense. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for the support you’ve all been giving me! I love you, hons!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content are allowed without direct permission.

[deadbydatelight-blog]

Hey Now!

Quentin Smith x Reader

Hey Now!

Features: Nightmare on Elm Street, except in a Nothing Went Wrong AU, and Y/N is in a band

Waking up in the morning, Quentin felt like hell. He was even more convinced of such when he passed by the mirror in the bathroom, discovering that his current state was actually much worse than he initially thought. And, with a glance at the watch on his wrist, he realized he didn't exactly have time to fix it. "That's fine. We'll just put a beanie on, and it'll be---" He muttered to himself, travelling back to his room, only to find that the designated spot for his beanie was vacant. "Fine?" He finished his statement late, confused, knowing that that was the last place he left it. There was no way it could've been anywhere else, he was sure. "So where is it?" He asked himself, recalling Y/N, who'd came over the night before. "But why would she take it?"

"Fuck it. We don't have time." Quentin thought aloud, scooping his backpack off of the ground and sliding it over his shoulder. Before his dad could start yelling at him to hurry up, he was already out the door.

×

Walking through the doors of the school, sure to trail far behind his dad, the first familiar face he saw was Nancy. His locker was down the hall, and Nancy was busy talking to Kris and Dean, but Quentin didn't quite care. This, in his mind, was more important. "Hey, Nancy, have you seen Y/N?" He tappen his foot anxiously, unaware that he was even doing it.

"No, she's not gonna be here today. She... Didn't tell you?" Nancy looked confused, pulling away from her conversation. Kris seemed to be in the loop, a knowing smile on her face, while Dean was just as lost as Quentin was.

"No, I guess she didn't." Now that he'd been there for a minute, this entire situation felt weird. His face twisted into one of confusion. The more he was standing there, the weirder this situation felt.

"She's not gonna be here. She's got a show tonight, and she's taking the day to set up." Nancy explained with a curt nod.

"A show?" He was taken aback. "For what? She didn't tell me about any show, and we just hung out last night." Guilt began to set in, and Quentin began to wonder if Y/N actually had said something to him about it, and he'd just missed it.

"Don't sweat it. I'll give you the address." Nancy offered, retrieving a pen and paper from her locker. As if on cue, the bell rang, warning them to get to class.

"Shit." Quentin muttered to himself. It looked like he wasn't getting his beanie back as soon as he thought.

"I'll get it to you at lunch, okay?" Nancy promised, an apologetic smile on her face. Quentin couldn't help but give a soft smile back. He could swear up and down, if there were a universe out there where Y/N didn't exist, he could almost see himself falling for Nancy.

"Thanks, Nance."

×

Like promised, at lunch, Nancy handed Quentin a neatly folded piece of paper, containing an address he wasn't sure he recognized, and a note telling him to be there at 7:00 pm. After lunch, it was decided that he would just catch a ride with Nancy, Kris, Dean, and Jesse, much to his initial disapproval. But at 6:30, he found himself piled up in a car with the group. The reasoning, he told himself, was solely because he wasn't sure where this place even was. It wasn't so he could hang out with Jesse and Dean; oh no, definitely not. Especially not after their relentless teasing, asking him exactly why Y/N was hanging out with him the night before, and why he was so worried where she was now. Quentin could certainly live without Jesse's fake, high pitched moaning, thank you very much. He appreciated Nancy and Kris' silence on the matter, the two going as far as making the other two boys shut up, though the girls secretly made a bet on the status of Quentin and Y/N by the end of the night.

Arriving at the venue, it became obvious why Quentin hadn't heard the place before. It was on the opposite side of town, for one,  and two, it didn't seem like his scene at all. To be fair, it didn't really seem like Y/N's either, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that Quentin didn't know as much about her as he thought he did. "Are you sure we're at the right place?" He paused outside the car door, almost hesitant to move.

"Yes, Quentin. Don't worry, we didn't lie to you. Your girlfriend's here." Dean joked, nudging Quentin's shoulder jokingly on his way around the car. Quentin didn't even bother to correct him, knowing he had to have said "she's not my girlfriend" at least twelve times already. Nancy and Kris seemed to know what they were doing, so when they arrived to the security that demanded tickets. Quentin, then realizing that he definitely didn't have one, just tried to look like he knew what he was doing, trailing behind Kris and Dean with Jesse, hands shoved in his pockets. The burly security guy looked between the number of tickets and the group, obviously noticing the difference in numbers. Quentin just stayed quiet, counting the amount of hits on the bass drum that was still loud outside, mimicking it with his feet to distract his mind. The noise stopped a minute later, signaling the end the band's set time.

"Don't worry, I'm on the list." Nancy spoke up, noticing the security's unamused expression. She quickly moved to her purse, pulling out her ID. With a quick inspection and a curt nod, security let them pass.

"So, you're on the list for.... Whatever this is, and I didn't even get to know what this was?" Quentin walked alongside Nancy, who just grinned cheekily. He didn't even notice how Dean, Kris, and Jesse parted ways with them as soon as they walked inside, Quentin following Nancy to the bar.

"Oh, if only he knew," She found herself thinking. "Yeah, I had a conversation with Y/N last night after she left your place. She said, and I quote, 'my friendship with Quentin is cancelled. Nancy, you're my new best friend'." She imitated Y/N in an overly dramatic manner, Quentin just rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, somehow I don't have a hard time believing that." He was only partially joking, but seeing as how the joke actually resonated with his feelings, he decided to change the subject. "So, any news from Y/N? Where's she at?"

"Backstage, silly." Nancy rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her newly acquired drink, handing Quentin the second one. "Where else would the band be?"

"Y/N's in a fucking band? And I didn't know this?" It was a struggle not to spit his drink out, eyes blown wide. At this rate, Y/N very well might have decided to cancel their friendship and choose Nancy as her new best friend instead, maybe deciding to steal his beanie as a final act of revenge. "When you said she 'had a show', I thought it was possible that she'd gotten a job setting up for a band or something. Not that she is the band." He was still just as amazed.

"If it makes you feel any better, she had a reason for not telling you." Nancy offered. Quentin didn't say anything, hoping she'd elaborate. She didn't. "I wanna tell you, but... I think Y/N is the only one who can. Sorry." She grimaced, and Quentin decided to lighten up on the death stares, figuring he got all of the information he was going to get.

"Yeah. Thanks, I guess." He grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Feedback from a microphone resonated through the air, and his attention immediately averted to the stage where a chick with blonde hair and almost a full sleeve tattoo was carrying a bass guitar. Very country. For the atmosphere of the venue, she looked extremely out of place. With the blonde, the rest of the band went to their places, saving one spot open at the center mic, reserved for the lead singer. He watched curiously, assuming that that was where Y/N was supposed to go. The blonde started a riff on the bass, and the drummer followed. After a few seconds of instrumentals, a new person walked out onto the stage. It was none other than Y/N, who, to Quentin's disdain, was sporting a gray beanie. His beanie.

"Hey now, What's your name? You're really cute and really nice, I think we should go on a date," Y/N sang, and Quentin couldn't help but smile just a little bit. He had no idea that Y/N had an interest in music outside of listening to it, but now, it made sense that she would. He made a mental note to ask her who this one was written about, just bopping along to the beat with Nancy in the meantime. "Oh, hey now! You've got it going on, Hey now, You're like my favorite song-" He noticed Nancy in the corner of his eye trying to get his attention, unable to actually hear her over the band. He leaned down just a bit so he could, Nancy yelling in his ear.

"Come on! Let's try and get closer!" He wanted to protest, but she was already dragging him into the fray before he could get a word out.

"Hey now, What's your birthday? Because I read in the book That my most compatible month is May, Oh, hey now! Do you like my dress? Hey now, Because earlier I looked a mess." True to her word, Nancy had managed to squeeze the two of them into the general population, fighting off the sweaty bodies with apologies to get as close as possible. Now, it was much easier to see Y/N. Despite the fact that she was wearing a beanie, the multicolored lights gave her hair a glowing halo, and she was smiling, Quentin realized, at him. The two maintained eye "Oh baby, you got me going crazy, Oh baby, I want you now now now now now now now. Oh save me, won't you help me? 'Cause baby, I want you now now now now now now now-" A hand on his shoulder told Quentin someone had walked up behind him, Kris pushing her way past him to stand next to Nancy, the two dancing together. And suddenly, Quentin felt extremely out of place.

"Hey now, How are you? I want to know your life story so tell me everything you do, Oh, hey now! You're so much fun, Hey now, You're as bright as the sun, Oh baby, you got me going crazy Oh baby, I want you now now now now now now now." Trying to appreaciate the music that was obviously very important to Y/N was extremely difficult. He felt like he was standing in one place, unable to move. Everything felt so... Awkward. Nancy seemed to notice and tugged on his sleeve, trying again to get closer to the front. With Kris now in tow, they were much more successful in their efforts to say the least. Kris, unlike Nancy, gave little to no fucks when it came to pushing people out of the way. Needless to say, Kris had worked until their bodies were pressed against the barrier seperating the crowd from the band. Y/N's eyes found Quentin's again, and though he hadn't noticed, Nancy had watched her try to find his face in the crowd. All the while, she lowered herself to the ground, sitting on the edge of the stage.

"Hey now, Come over here

Hey now, You're my biggest fear

Hey now, Tell me how you feel

Hey now, Make sure what you're saying is real." The beat picked up again, a grin growing on Y/N's face. She jumped to her feet again, jumping off of the stage all the while jumping back into the chorus. It was only about two or three feet higher than ground level, but nonetheless, a good portion of the crowd cheered. Y/N must've been the security's worst nightmare, with how often she was jumping and climbing on things, now standing on top of the barrier meant to seperate her from the crowd. She stood a little wobbly on the edge of the metal, with people trying to reach her from behind it, but she stood strong anyway, hands reaching back. All the while, she maintained eye contact, and it became obvious who she was reaching for. Quentin, who seemed unable to crack a genuine smile all night, held her hand, an honest and reassuring grin on his face. He noticed how badly her hand was shaking, and he couldn't be sure if it was the adrenaline or fear that caused it. The song ended, and Y/N let out an obvious sigh of relief, her eyes drifting closed. When they opened again, she saw Nancy, absolutely ecstatic for her, and Quentin, who had a look of sheer admiration and awe. Her heart swelled at the idea, and the rest of the show continued without a hitch.

×

At the end of the show, Y/N was surprised to see that Nancy and Quentin had waited, sitting at the bar together.

"Hey, guys." She walked up almost awkwardly, interrupting their conversation about the show. She almost felt bad, thinking how she knew of her two best friends feelings for each other.

"Y/N!" Nancy hugged her tightly. "You did so great. I'm so proud of you." Y/N smiled, thanking Nancy for coming.

"Quen, you made it!" She used her old nickname for her best friend, surprised when he pulled her into a hug.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to crash it or anything. I guess my invite got lost in the mail or something." His tone sounded almost clipped, and Y/N almost felt bad for not formally inviting him. He released her from the hug, much to her dismay, a look of guilt on her features. A silence drifted between the three, Nancy being the one to disrupt it.

"... I'm gonna go make sure Dean and Jesse haven't killed each other yet. I'll see you guys in a minute?" Before either could answer, Nancy had already gone.

"I wanted to ask you to come. I really did." Y/N said immediately after Nancy left, crossing her arms over her chest awkwardly.

"Then why didn't you? Y/N, you're my best friend. I didn't even know you were in a band." Quentin sounded hurt, mimicking Y/N's actions.

"I just... Had to make sure everything was perfect, okay? I didn't want you to show up if we weren't at our best. And we're honestly not yet." Y/N found it hard to breathe, and her eyes were burning, trying not to cry. She hated arguing with people; Quentin especially.

"Are you kidding me, Y/N? That was fucking amazing. And even if it wasn't, I want to be able to support you. You're my best friend. It's like my job." He scoffed, glaring daggers.

"Yeah. I guess." Y/N kept her eyes on the ground, biting her lip. In her head, she just kept repeating, "Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry." Over and over like a mantra. "It's just... You matter a lot to me, and your approval matters the most out of everyone's. I don't want to give you a reason to be disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Quentin scoffed, then went silent. "I don't think I could ever be disappointed in you, N/N." Y/N didn't say anything.

"So can you look at me now?"

She still didn't respond.

"Y/N."

Nothing.

Quentin rolled his eyes, picking her head up with his finger. He began to understand why she wouldn't lookat him; she was crying. "Shit." Realizing what he'd done, he pulled her into a hug, letting her cry on his shoulder. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. Then I'll start crying because you're crying, and I promise I don't look as cute as you do when I cry." He almost whispered, rubbing Y/N's back in his attempts at calming her down. A few minutes had passed, and he'd noticed that Y/N had stopped crying. "Better?" He asked. He felt her lightly shake her head no, still hiding her face in the fabric of his shirt. "Okay. Just let me know when." He responded, feeling no need to say anything else. So, he just held her in a comfortable silence. A few more moments had passed, and he heard her audibly sigh, and let him go.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled. "I kinda made a mess on your shirt." She muttered, trying to sound strong, but she still looked as miserable as before.

"It's okay." Quentin smiled softly, a laugh escaping his lips. Y/N couldn't help but smile back. Quentin didn't laugh as often as she'd like, so during those rare moments when he did, she made sure to savor it each time. "So, wanna tell me what got you so upset all of a sudden?" He made sure not to sound too pushy, Y/N just biting her lip and sighing.

"Well, no time like the present, right?" She muttered under her breath. "I... Was... Sad, I guess," She tried to push past the lump in her throat, building back up. "Because... I made you miss out on something... Monumental for me, because... I was scared." She admitted, eyes looking anywhere but his face. When Quentin stayed silent, she let out a deep sigh. "And I was so scared, because I love you. And... I've written a couple of songs about you, and I didn't want you to hear them and think 'oh, she's gotta be singing about someone else,' or even worse, I thought... You might figure me out. And I feel so selfish now because now I'm telling you this, and I know you don't have feelings for me like that. I know it's Nancy that you're after, not that I could blame you, and Jesus; now you're mad at me because I never told you, but surprise! Our friendship is probably over now because of it all and I'm just so-" Y/N rambled, Quentin suddenly cutting her off.

"Y/N." He grabbed a hold of her shoulders, shaking her out of her rant. He'd been calling her name during different points during her speech, but she was so wrapped up in it that she hadn't noticed. "You're not selfish, okay? And I'm not mad at you. I mean, I am mad at you, just... Not in the way you think." Y/N blinked, confused. "I'm mad that you never invite me to your concerts, but Jesse, Kris and Dean get invited, and Nancy's on the guest list. I'm mad because you never let me support you. I'm mad... I'm mad because I never knew how you felt, and I'm mad that I never acted on how I felt."

"Oh?" Y/N looked confused. "Oh." The message set in, and Quentin scratched the back of his head nervously. He didn't even know how red his face was at this point, but it couldn't have been more red than Y/N's. "Well... Uh... Just so you know, Nancy's only on the guest list because she's my other best friend, and Kris only got a ticket because Nancy got one, and Dean and Jesse only went because, well, when you ask Kris to come to something, it's like a package deal." She shrugged. "And I never told you how I felt because I was just so sure you had a thing for Nancy." She raked a hand down her face, stifling a laugh. Now that she knows what she knows, the idea did seem kinda farfetched. "But you also never told me how you felt, so I guess I'm mad at you too."

"That's completely fair." Quentin agreed, standing up so he wasn't leaning on the bar counter anymore. "So, since we've decided to just be mad at each other, how exactly do you propose we go about patching it up?"

"I believe there's a saying, goes along the lines of 'kiss it and make it better'? I could be wrong." Y/N shrugged slyly, taking one step forward, making the two of them chest to chest.

"Nope, I definitely think you're onto something." Quentin nodded. Leaning down to Y/N's height, planting a soft kiss to her lips. She seemed to smile into it, and he couldn't help but reciprocate the action. When the two pulled away, he couldn't help but look at her curiously. "What's got you so giggly, N/N?"

"Nothin'. Just nothin', Q." She shook her head, reminding Quentin of his initial mission.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot." He snatched the beanie off of Y/N's head, placing it back on his own.

Y/N gasped in false shock. "Rude." She grumbled, crossing her arms. Mood = killed. She slung her guitar case over her shoulder, walking to the exit of the venue. Quentin followed, letting one arm hang around Y/N's waist.

"You're the one who stole my beanie." He countered.

"I didnt steal it! It fell into my bag!" She accused, turning her head slightly to get a look at him again. "I can't say I'm not glad you got it back, though. I knew something about you looked off."

"Yeah. Okay." Quentin snickered, shaking his head. "I defintely think it looks cuter on you, but, I can't survive without it. Sorry." He teased, earning a light punch in the side from a snickering Y/N "Ouch! Who's the rude one now?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll get that damn hat back if it's the last thing I do."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Challenge accepted."

I love The Regrettes, and I love Quentin. So I decided to combine the two. Everyone is extremely ooc, butttt staying in character isn't what cures my depression, Susan, it's the contennttt that makes me happy, davidddd

Anyway, if you were wondering what the song was, it's Hey Now by The Regrettes

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Pretty please, would you ship me with the band and the cast? I'm a hetero girl who is a PhD student in Media Discourse. I don't don't like my looks at all and struggle with self-esteem problems. I'm always friendly and kind to people. I hate talking about myself and being the centre of attention. Absolutely clueless in romance and all intimate things, I'm pretty oblivious when it comes to this. Perfectionist. Quiet. I love making jokes and sarcastic comments, books, movies, TV series, walks ^^

HELLOOOOO

hi u sound like a precious BEAN of a human i would genuinely love u if i knew you in person i attach so hard to ppl like you it is 100% my cancer tendencies ALSO HELLO FELLO MEDIA MAJOR I’M AN INTERACTIVE DIGITAL MEDIA: NEW MEDIA MAJOR but not a phd i am a dumb

anyways THE SHIPS R BELOW THE CUT

For the band, I ship you with John Deacon!

You are genuinely made for John, and he is made for you, for obvious reasons.

The biggest reason is your proclivity towards sarcastic comments. 

You had actually been Brian’s friend before you met Deacon, and Brian introduced you to the him after a show one night early on in the 70′s. You already knew the other boys because they hung around Brian’s so much, but Deacon tended to keep to himself and had his own small friend circle apart from them, so he was never around when you were.

Boy, did he regret that once he met you.

Deacon was very shy at first, as were you, but what caught his eye was the effortless way you managed to roast Roger without disrupting your quiet demeanor in any way.

“And then I said to her, ‘you ever seen the ceiling of the back of my car? would you like to?’“ Roger had said, earning a quiet scoff and eye roll from you that almost went unnoticed, save for Brian’s eagle eye. Brian loved to piss Roger off, and nothing would make him angrier than a girl who was unimpressed by his tactics.

“Not a fan, eh?” Brian asked, elbowing you as John watched you curiously, sipping his drink while you cleared your throat, glancing at Roger almost disdainfully, but not in a mean-spirited way.

“No disrespect, but I’ve heard better pick-up lines from a fortune cookie, Rog,” you remarked plainly, taking a drink of your beer as Roger’s face quickly soured, John almost choking on his drink and holding a hand over his mouth as you looked over at him with a smile and a kind gaze. “You alright?”

“Yeah, m’fine,” Deacon spoke from behind his hand, grabbing a napkin to wipe himself off as Roger scowled, still glaring at you.

“What? You think my one-liners are bad? I personally don’t.”

“Don’t you hate it when people answer their own questions? I do.... Oh wait,” you teased, making Roger roll his eyes before he steered the conversation in another direction, Deacon snickering at the purposeful irony in your comment and gaining another wide smile from you before you happily returned to your quiet observing.

After that, Deacon was suddenly finding time to come around Brian’s, and he only ever stuck around when you were there. Although he claimed it wasn’t because of you, Brian was all too aware of Deacon’s partiality towards you, so he took it upon himself to set you up on a blind date with each other, just for shits and giggles.

Much to Brian’s enjoyment, you both hit it off on the blind date when you got the chance to banter by yourselves, and though John’s more affectionate tendencies confused you at first, you grew to love each and every one of his romantic gestures.

He always knew just how to structure them so you wouldn’t feel too put on the spot, and he never drew attention to them - after all, they were for you to enjoy, not the public, so he never made a big deal out of being showy.

When you were still just casually dating before he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, you’d come to your apartment one night after a particularly long shift at work. 

John had come in during that shift to see you, and you were sad to see him go. His smile had the power to make your day loads better, and when he had to leave, you were pretty bummed. 

So, it was a big surprise when you walked into your apartment to see Brian and Deacon in the kitchen, making what smelled like a heavenly pot of spaghetti. Dropping your bag on the hallway floor, you stared at them in partial confusion and partial amazement as you walked in, Brian turning around and jumping a bit before smiling and wiping his hands on a towel.

“That’s my cue to leave,” he mumbled, passing by and giving you a quick, friendly kiss on the head before he was out the door, leaving you alone with a very smiley Deacon.

“What’s all this?” you asked, genuinely baffled at what laid before you. Your table was cleared off - it had stacks upon stacks of books that you’d read tons of times, but never tired of. There were two sets of plates and silverware set out, and you watched as Deacon brought the spaghetti over to the table, sitting it on an oven pad before doing the same with a plate of garlic bread.

“Saw you weren’t having a good day at work,” he replied, “Figured I’d come cheer you up, but had to recruit a little help.”

“Gosh, did I really look that rough at work? I mean, I know I usually look pretty rough, but I must have been horrifying for you to do all this,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you ducked your head a bit.

Deacon pursed his lips at your small self-deprecating comment, then shook his head as he wiped his hands on the towel as well. 

“You always look beautiful, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet, but sure, and you found yourself blushing as you sat down at the table across from where he was standing, avoiding his gaze. “Hey, I mean it,” he almost whined, sitting down across from you and waving his hand to draw your attention back to his face. “You’re adorable, and you should know that.”

He asked you to be his girlfriend later that night, and spent the rest of the time showering you in compliments to make sure you knew you were gorgeous and perfect in every way to him.

What a little romantic.

Annnnnnd for borhap.... I ship you with Rami Malek!

GOD his energy confuses/scares me so much ANYWAYS

Rami was always your favorite of the friends in the BoRhap group - he wasn’t snobby (here’s looking at you, first impressions Gwilym), he wasn’t too goofy (@ Joe sorry buddy), and he wasn’t absolutely intimidating (Ben looks like he lives, eats, and breathes gym). Allen, Lucy, and Aaron were closer to the others than they were to you, but then there was Rami. He was just Rami, a slightly awkward, mildly anxious guy who loved to be around his friends, but also valued privacy. 

This value of privacy is what initially attracted you to him, oddly enough. Joe, Gwilym, Allen, and Ben were all having a heyday with their social medias, posting dorky pictures of each other and screwing around while you hung back, not wanting to be involved or in any of the pictures.

“You too, huh?” Rami asked, coming to stand next to you as you watched them goof around with each other. You looked over to Rami, shrugging and smiling.

“Not really my thing, honestly.” He nodded and gave you a reassuring smile, looking slightly nervous as he glanced over to the crew as well.

“I’m right there with you. I think my Instagram has maybe 2 posts on it... or is it 3?” he wondered aloud, his thoughtful face making you giggle and shake your head as you hugged yourself. “Want to go take a stroll around the studio instead?”

Looking up at him, you considered for a moment before nodding. “That sounds lovely.”

And from there, you two clearly became each other’s favorites. As much as the rest of the cast would have liked to insert themselves into your friendship to make fun posts about it online, you and Rami always found a way to keep your kinship (and eventual relationship) under wraps. It wasn’t necessarily that you hated social media, it was that you preferred to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible.

Even though Rami was the star, he also preferred the same thing. He didn’t want to steal the limelight when he didn’t feel that he deserved it.

The first stroll you’d taken with him? That turned into a regular occurrence.

Whenever you two had the chance, you were taking a walk together, even if you had no particular place in mind to end it. One time, he took you on a walk that he claimed was completely random, but as you got closer to one of your favorite bookstores in London, you started to smell the hint of a planned location by him.

“I knew I shouldn’t have believed you,” you giggled as you entered the bookstore, Rami holding open the door for you. 

“Hey, I may not be a king of nice gestures, but I tried for you,” he complained playfully, bumping your hip with his before he nodded over to the corner, where there was a small coffee bar run by a single barista you’d come to know by name.

“Hello there, lovebirds,” the barista greeted as you came up, making you blush and Rami rub his jaw in slightly embarrassment. “I’m just joking with you, haven’t seen you two in a while. The usual?”

“Well, you know, filming. And yes, please,” Rami had replied, stepping to move out of someone’s way as they came in the door behind you. His hand came to rest on your mid-back, but it stayed there when the door swung shut. 

You didn’t mind, though. Simple little things like that were preferred by you anyways, seeing as you weren’t a big fan of showiness or grand romantic gestures. Things like a hand on the back, or holding hands was perfectly okay for you - they were easier to understand, and easier to pull off without ending up a blushing mess.

Which, speaking of, you were still currently a blushing mess from the barista calling you two lovebirds. Rami noticed, raising an eyebrow at you gently before smiling and pressing his thumb into your back slightly, just to get your attention.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to be here right now? We can go if you want.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you laughed softly, pressing your hands to your cheeks and sighing before laughing again. “Just getting used to the dating thing. God, I feel like I look like a tomato right now.”

“It’s cute,” Rami remarked simply, grabbing both of your drinks before heading over to one of the tables near the back, where you could sit in private and just relax. 

“Me being red as a fire truck is not cute, Rami.” He laughed at that, shaking his head and taking a drink of his coffee as he sat back on the chair that he’d scooted over so he could be next to you.

“Everything about you is cute, don’t lie to me.” You turned even redder, if that was possible at all, and Rami laughed softly as he wrapped his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder before kissing your head. “I’m being honest, really! You’re a cutie, don’t ever forget that.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you laughed nervously, subconsciously leaning into his touch as you sipped at your drink. “Joe lets the entire Instagram universe know that on the daily.”

“If Joe brings you in here and the barista also calls you two lovebirds... I’m fighting him hand-to-hand. And that’s a fact.”

[emospritelet]

Kiss of Life - chapter 4

In which Belle has a blind date...

AO3 link

#

Her Saturday shift at the hospital had made Belle tired and sore, and she slept later than usual on Sunday, forgoing her usual run in favour of a brisk walk to the diner for a coffee and bear claw.  Mary Margaret and Ruby were chatting at the bar, and Belle slid onto a seat beside them to place her order.

“You look tired,” said Mary Margaret sympathetically.  “Long night, huh?”

“It was hard work,” admitted Belle.  “I’m enjoying it, though. Feels like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“Any fights break out?” asked Ruby.  “They tend to spill over from the bar sometimes.”

“None that I saw,” said Belle, yawning.  “That Keith guy grabbed my arse, though.”

Mary Margaret and Ruby made the almost identical sounds of cats being stepped on.

“Remind me to kick him in the balls next time I see him,” said Ruby.

“Dr Gold threatened to report him to the Sheriff if he did it again,” said Belle.

“Oh, if Emma finds out he’s up to that kind of thing, she’d kick him in the balls,” said Mary Margaret.

“I don’t think you’ve met Emma,” added Ruby.  “Blonde. Wears a lot of plaid. Married to Regina Mills, the Mayor.”

“The Sheriff married the Mayor?” said Belle.  “That’s kind of sweet.”

“The deputy sheriff’s also a lesbian,” added Mary Margaret.  “Mulan. She’s dating Merida, the redhead who works at the Rabbit Hole.”

“This town is powered by gays,” mused Ruby.

Belle giggled, and Ruby slapped her hands on the bar.

“But never mind about everyone else’s love lives!” she said excitedly.  “It’s your big date tomorrow! You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” said Belle.

“Who are you going on a date with?” asked Mary Margaret curiously, and Ruby grinned.

“I told her I’d fix her up with a book lover, right?” she said, and leaned on the bar, eyebrows twitching as she grinned.  “Okay, so his name’s Isaac Heller, he’s a writer, he’s always reading something or tapping away on his laptop when he’s in here—”

“You set her up with Isaac?” said Mary Margaret, in a flat tone, and Ruby spread her hands.

“What?” she protested.  “He’s a writer, a book nerd!  He could be Belle’s soulmate!”

“I’m not sure I believe in soulmates,” said Belle.  “Besides, it’s only a date. A blind one, at that.”

“Well, I told him you’d meet him here,” said Ruby.  “Seven-thirty tomorrow, okay?”

#

Belle tried to recall the last time she had been on a date, remembered that it was almost a year ago, and sighed to herself.  After some deliberation, she had chosen an understated outfit: a flared black skirt with a fitted white shirt and little black cardigan.  The date was at Granny’s, so at least she would be on familiar territory, and Ruby would be there to step in if it turned into a disaster.  She’d had one or two dates like that in the past, after all.

#

Isaac Heller was a nervous-looking man with a long, thin face, dark hair and anxious eyes.  He ordered a bottle of red wine and two glasses, delivered to the table by Ruby, who beamed at him and winked at Belle as she left.  It took about ten minutes for Belle to decide that, whether or not soulmates existed, hers was not currently sitting across from her.  Isaac was polite enough, pulling out her chair when they sat down, but agonised over the menu choices for half an hour before finally ordering the chicken parm, and then spent ten minutes wondering aloud whether the steak would have been better.

She found that she didn’t have to say much; Isaac told her all about his time travelling in New York and Boston and down into Florida, researching for his new book.  He then told her about his agent, who had told him he was the next Hemingway, although whether that was something to be proud of was a matter of opinion, in her eyes.  He then moved onto his publisher, who was being, in his words, unreasonably picky about the progress of his novel. Belle had drunk three glasses of wine by the time their food arrived, and while eating gave her something else to do with her hands, it didn’t distract Isaac from telling her the plot of his novel about a disillusioned but brilliant writer having what sounded to her like a midlife crisis.

“So let me get this straight,” said Belle, when he finally drew breath long enough to put a piece of chicken in his mouth.  “The protagonist has a gorgeous girlfriend who - apparently - caters to his every need, and he’s still not happy?”

“He’s a tortured soul,” said Isaac earnestly, leaning forward.  “Always looking for something better. A perfectionist, you see.  He’s so used to excelling at what he does, he assumes that carries over into all areas of his life.  I can relate to that.”

Belle almost choked on her wine, and her eyes watered as she tried not to splutter in amusement.  She was feeling light-headed, and it was making her lose patience.

“Okay, so Mr Perfect wants the perfect woman by his side while he writes his wish-fulfilment self-insert porn or whatever it is he’s doing—”

“It’s a future New York Times bestseller...” he said indignantly

“Right,” sighed Belle, taking another drink.  “My point is - why was she attracted to him in the first place?”

Isaac blinked.  “What?”

“What does she see in him?” asked Belle.  “Why are they together?”

Isaac stared at her, fingers twitching on his napkin, his mouth open a little.

“Are you saying you don’t believe she could love him?”

“Well, I don’t really know anything about her,” Belle explained, and when he looked confused, added: “I mean, I know what she looks like, that she’s tall - but not as tall as him - and she has the body of a burlesque dancer and a beautiful face—”

“Yes!” said Isaac eagerly, nodding.  “You can see her in your mind, can’t you?”

“Well - kind of,” said Belle slowly.  “I mean she looks at herself naked and describes herself in detail so there’s that.  I can picture her from the description, but I still don’t know anything about her.  Other than that she’s very supportive of him and drinks latte and is oddly aware of her own breasts.”

He looked puzzled, and she sighed.

“What does she do?” she asked.  “What are her interests?  Who are her friends? Does she exist as a character outside her relationship with the protagonist?  Is she a whole person or is she just there to get him laid and provide some manpain when she dies?”

His mouth fell open.

“How did you know she dies?”

She closed her eyes, reaching for her wine again.  Something told her there wouldn’t be a second date.

#

Belle sighed, pressing her palm to the small of her back and stretching.  They had been short-handed the past few days, and she had worked more hours than she had planned.  Her entire body ached from rushing around and carrying supplies in her first week of work, but it was a good sort of ache, the kind that came from hard work that meant something.

She still had three hours left of her shift, but Dorothy had taken one look at her and told her to go get some coffee.  She hadn’t objected, and she rolled stiff shoulders as she made her way to the cafeteria, smiling her thanks and handing over some cash in return for a mug of coffee and a maple pecan Danish.  She turned away, glancing around in vain for a vacant table.  The place was full of hospital staff chatting over coffees and tucking into cake and sandwiches, and there was only one table with a single occupant.  Belle sucked in a breath as she saw that it was Dr Gold.

He was sitting with one elbow on the table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him and his finger and thumb rubbing at the bridge of his nose, as though his eyes were tired.  She suspected they were; he had been on shift when she had arrived, and would no doubt be there long after she had gone home to crawl into bed and think about how it might feel to kiss him.  Which seemed to be the uppermost thought in her mind every night since she had started working at the hospital.

She made a decision, stepping forward quickly to stand beside his table.

“Dr Gold,” she said, and he looked up, dark eyes heavy.

“Miss French,” he said.  “How are you settling in?”

“Um - okay, I guess,” she said.  “Do you mind if I sit down?  There’s a shortage of free tables.”

“Oh, of course.”  He gestured to the seat opposite.  “Be my guest.  I’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”

She slid into the seat, setting down her coffee and Danish.

“We could split it, if you like,” she said, and he glanced at the pastry with a spark of interest in his eyes, but shook his head.

“Coffee’s all I need.”

She privately thought he could do with eating a few decent meals and working fewer hours, but she said nothing.  She tore off a piece of the pastry, putting it in her mouth and licking sticky glaze from her fingers.  He was eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped at it, and she sucked a few crumbs from her thumb.

“Apologies for my messy eating,” she said.

“That’s quite alright.”  He set down his cup.  “I’ve seen you running around the place, I suspect you could use the energy.”

“Yeah.”

She tore off another piece and popped it in her mouth, making a noise of enjoyment at the rich taste of the buttery pastry and the maple-coated pecans.  Dr Gold took another sip of his coffee.

“How are you enjoying working here?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s been - well, it’s been hard work, and I feel like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it’s been fun,” she said, and he gave her a tiny smile.

“Well, the feeling of not knowing what the hell you’re doing never fully goes away, if it’s any comfort,” he said.

“But you’re a doctor,” she said.  “The doctor, from what I hear.  The most experienced in this place.”

“And none of us are infallible,” he said.  “More’s the pity.”

He drained his cup, setting it down with a clunk, and pushed to his feet with the aid of his cane.

“I’ll leave you to your snack,” he said.  “Good evening, Miss French.  And welcome aboard.”

He shook back his hair, nodded to her once, and strode off with his swift, limping stride.  Belle watched him go, sighing to herself.  Her crush on the man was intense, all-consuming, and apparently wholly unrequited.

[winters-hysteria]

Hi!! Can I please get a ship?

I'm fairly introverted and it takes me a while to warm up to people. I love reading, my room is filled with stacks of books. I especially enjoy true crime, poetry and Russian literature!I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'd consider myself really smart and I'm very ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I daydream a lot and I'm a hopeless romantic! I enjoy all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I'm 5'9 and I have long curly, dark brown hair and brown eyes. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Thank you very much!!

alright! hello!

so lets get right into it.

I personally think your Stranger Things girlfriend would be Max.

as we all know, max feels a TON of guilt over billy's death, and this is what vecna uses against her. she also has a ton of awful recurring nightmares about his death.

i feel like she'd come to you at the asscrack of dawn after having a nightmare (you both live in the trailer park pretty close) and since you leave your door unlocked (or if u feel unsafe she has a key) and rushes in, collapsing into you since you had been up making a snack to eat while you read. just falls into you, tears staining your oversized t-shirt while you hold her, processing what just happened. it takes you about five seconds before you're holding tightly onto her, comforting her and rubbing her back while she sobs into your shoulder. after several minutes, once she's calmed down enough that you can talk to her and have her come lie down on your bed, you turn the tv on to a kid's station because it's probably more comforting than the news, and you turn off the lights, come lie down next to her, and read aloud from your favorite book to soothe her to sleep.

but on another note, she likes to be the subject of most of your art, always willing to sit poised for a while so you can draw/paint/whatever her. she also likes to cuddle up to your chest and lay there, listening to you read aloud your favorite Russian story as she drifts off (it just sounds pretty to her, she doesn't really understand it.)

you two met when she was out skating along your path. she did a double take when she saw you wearing a dark-hued suit, but looking comfortable, and nearly fell off her skateboard. you noticed and decided to say hi to her, which nearly caused her to fall off AGAIN. you giggled at her, and she basically thought it was one of the cutest things ever. she started coming around to your place more and more, and eventually she made the first move while you were rambling about a cold case you couldn't stop thinking of, and she was just *staring* at your lips. before she realised what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed you.

it took you a looooong time to stop blushing about that btw

i also think she would love your style and continuously steal your sweaters even if other ppl looked at y'alls weird

i think your Stranger Things boyfriend would be Eddie.

i think he'd need a ton of comforting bc jason the dickbag won't leave him alone

he also overthinks a ton because the whole school save the Hellfire club hates him so he needs lots of physical attention and love and tlc and if you dont husband him i will.

i think he'd like to fall asleep sitting in your room with you as you play with his loooong hair and talk to him about your day or your current hyperfixation.

at some point you just realised he became unresponsive so you panicked, but then you looked down and found him with one arm wrapped around your thigh, head resting, legs curled and softly snoring. you just kinda felt your heart melt and you kept playing with his hair and singing softly

now this is after he got mauled by demo bats (but didnt die)

he'll have horrible horrible nightmares about this, and this is why your parents usually walk in to eddie sleeping curled up tightly against you and your arms around him, and they just *know* and so they leave y'all alone and go make breakfast or something

the second eddie smells coffee he is UP

oh, also. he would absolutely ADORE your style, and would buy you ties and shit for ur birthday, but would definitely make you wear a hellfire t-shirt to the meetings or he'd pout >:(

he always convinces you to draw/paint him (idk how)

and one time, to surprise him, you took the hellfire club member picture off the wall and painted a larger, cooler version of it with everyone as their character and hung it back up. but in the meantime, eddie was freaking the fuck out cause he didnt know where it went :(

but when you hung it back up, he lost it. genuinely couldn't speak for a few minutes, and that is the only time the whole collective hellfire club has seen their dungeon master cry.

he definitely plays his guitar for you like all the time, and you've sketched him when he really gets into it and doesn't notice and then after he's all " >:0 how did you do that without me noticing!!!" and attacks you with kisses

he may be a guitarist but this man sucks at drawing

he tried to draw you once and it was just a stick figure with curly lines and you laughed at him for HOURS

so i think he noticed you in school one day as u were eating pb&j and reading a book, and ever since had tried desperately to get your attention only for you to just shy away more until he tried 1 on 1 attention and you two sort of clicked tho it took a while for you to really like him as you were really wary

so i'm eventually going to do your harry potter ships, but there was just so much to write here that my hands are tired lol

hope you like it!

gifs are not mine

reblogs are appreciated, but do not steal my work <3

ty for the request, ily!!!

DRINK WATER.

[pendragonfics]

Did I Hear You Say You Love Me?

Paring: Steve Harrington/Reader

Tags: female reader, inspired by this song, features past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, D&D, Stranger Things spoilers, dancing, fluff, cutesy. 

Summary: During the school holidays of 1983, Will Byers organizes a DND campaign at his house. Reader, his elder sister, is cooped up in the house while everyone else has dates or social lives. Will and his friends concoct a plan.

Word Count: 1,599

Current Date: 2018-02-11

Being the older twin, it’s hardly an achievement. Everyone looks to you to be the most mature, the one in charge when the adults aren’t around. You’d rather be the one who was born eighteen minutes later, to be honest. Except, Jonathan isn’t much better than you; he’s always acting like he’s Dad, trying to make everything get by in the Byers house. And while it sucks majorly to take care of everyone when Mom was out trying to make ends meet and save the day with Chief Hopper, it’s normal.

You, _______ Byers, are basically a Mom. Sans the kids. And childbirth.

And while that sucks majorly, it was that trait which was the saving grace that you used to whip your friends and brother to action when you saw that something was off about Will. If you were Nancy, Jonathan’s girlfriend, you’d be doing anything to not be the Mom. She’s seventeen, just like you, and while you’re making sure your kid brother’s friends don’t accidently burn down the house making Eggos, she’s got good grades and a legion of friends.

“We’re having a DND night next Tuesday,” Will says, sitting beside you on your bed. You can hear him despite the fact you’re listening to Cyndi Lauper through your little tape deck, and taking off your headphones, you place them upon the ears of your younger brother. “Girls Just Want to Have Fun?” He asks, humming to the tune. “This record is new, how’d you get it?”

You bite your lip. “Harrington. He said he picked up the wrong tape at the music store,” you look at the tape’s cover on the desk, and back to Will, “Don’t know how he confused it for The Eagles.”

Will laughed to himself. “He likes you,” he nudges you. You make a noise of denial. “I’ve seen it! He looked at you the same way Jonathan did when he saw Nancy at the Snowball.” Will says proudly.

“You’re just trying to get me to make a move,” you wave off his theory, clicking the tape deck to stop playing Cyndi. “So, what was it you said when you came in? You’re going to have your friends over to not play DND?”

He shakes his head. “No, we are. Our campaign has us –,”

You groan. “Okay, okay, I hear you. I’ll babysit for sure, if you don’t tell me all about it!” you attack Will with a bout of tickling. For a minute, it’s just like when you were kids, before Mom and Dad divorced, and everything wasn’t crazy wild. “Like, I have no idea what any of it means – why isn’t it the same as The Hobbit? I get The Hobbit.”

“Noo!” He cries. “Stop tickling!” Will laughs, pushing your hands from his armpits, eyes screwed up in laugher, filled with happy tears. “Thanks, _______. Jonathan can’t do it, because he’s taking Nancy to the drive-in to watch some sappy movie.”

You turn to Will, and add, “Just make sure your friends get rides here, okay? Jonathan’s gonna take the car, and there is no way I’m biking around town to gather your friends like the pied piper.”

Will laughs. “You’re weird.” As he goes to get off the bed, he adds, “But you won’t have to do that. Steve’s bringing everyone around, Dustin talked him into it.”

You make a face. “How did Dustin make King Steve do that? I mean, he barely knows him! I barely know him, and I don’t get rides around Hawkins in his fancy car,” you tell your brother.

Will shrugs. “Well, Steve’s nice now. And maybe you don’t get car rides, but he did kind of gave you a Cyndi Lauper tape,” he points out. The walkie-talkie on his side makes a crackling noise, and Will leaves to take the call.

You sit there on your bed, silent.  

-

School holidays are the worst. Not because you’re basically left to your own devices when your Mom is off canoodling with her ‘good friend’ Jim (you really want to pressure her into spilling that she likes Jim as more than a friend, but the last time you did that…it ended up with the other guy dying in the Hawkins National Laboratory). And because you’re honestly a big nerd who has no friends, you’re left mooching around the house like a loser, hanging out with your kid brother’s friends and re-reading those musty old love novels that lay around the house.

Tuesday comes around, and once again, your Mom has gotten a ride into town with Chief Hopper. Jonathan is dressed in his favourite band t-shirt and has taken Nancy out to see Flashdance. And Will’s friends are rolling around, and from the sound of the engine of the BMW, Steve’s coming in too.

You glance down at your outfit, suddenly self-conscious. Your baggy jeans and Jaws t-shirt aren’t exactly a ballgown, and your hair looks like a tumbleweed. But it’s too late to do anything about it, because Lucas and the others come through the front door. Mike is humming the Ghostbusters theme.

“Hi _______, wicked shirt!” Dustin says, beaming at you with his new teeth.

You nod. “Thanks, buddy.”

He nods to the porch, where Steve is walking up the stairs. “Is it okay if Steve stays over while we play? My Mom feels better knowing he’s around.” He looks over to the table where the game is set up, and clamours for a good seat. “Shotgun!”

As Steve walks through the door, you feel your breath go short. His hair is nice as always, and the bruises he got from Billy Hargrove that night at your place are finally fading into an ugly brown shade under his skin tone. But he’s still gorgeous, despite the all the scratches, the healing busted lip.

“Hey,” you greet, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Hey, cool shirt,” he nods, looking to the kids as they muck around by the kitchen table. “Dustin’s Mom asked if I could hang around while they played, she’s a little on edge since she lost her cat, and Barb’s funeral.”

You nod, understanding. Mrs. Henderson was a great Mom; if your Mom had more time in the day, she’d surely be fast friends with her. Will comes into the room and gives El a hug as she walks through the door. “Ready to begin, Mage?”

Max rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside Lucas. El gives her shoulder a playful punch and sits beside Mike. “Ready, Cleric.”

You point behind you to the bedrooms, and call out, “I’ll just be listening to records, shout if you need anything,” you tell the kids. You look to Steve, “If you want to hang out here, it’ll be less boring.”

Your room is a bit of a mess, and realising this, you begin to shove the books into somewhat of a pile, the notepaper where you’ve been doodling cartoons of your favourite superheroes into a pile beneath your math textbook.

“So, what did you have in mind?” Steve asks you, looking at the posters that are in the process of peeling from the wall. Your David Bowie tour poster looks worse for wear, yet, he looks at it like it’s what hung the moon in the sky. “I brought some of my favourite tapes, if you wanted to listen.” From his jean jacket pockets, he produces three tapes, handing them to you.

“Sounds cool.” You nod, inspecting the art on them. “Stevie Wonder, U2, Ramones…these are decent tunes, Harrington.” You beam, turning to place Stevie in your tape deck. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Uh, thanks.” Steve sits on the edge of your bed, looking at your dogeared second-hand copy of Frankenstein. “When I was on my way over, one of the kids said something – I mean they’re probably messing with me or something –,”

You cross your arms, listening to the sweet opening to the first song. “Let me guess. They said that I was super into you.” You twirl your hair over a finger like some valley girl bimbo. “Like, down on my knees, begging God before bed to send me my very own Steve Harrington –,”

He shakes his head. “Mike said that he heard that Jonathan said to Nancy that he heard you talking about the new Cyndi Lauper album, and then Will said that you liked it, and…” he looks at his hands. “_______, ever since I met you in second grade, you’ve been the coolest person I ever met. And it only took me until now to realise that I liked you more than just a friend.”

You frown, just as Stevie Wonder sings the song Did I Hear You Say You Love Me. “Wait…this isn’t you using me as a rebound for my brother’s girlfriend,” you process aloud, “…you like me? Like Han and Leia?”

Steve nods, a blush covering his cheeks, and repeats, “Yeah, like Han and Leia.”

You giggle, and grabbing his hands, pull Steve up to dance around in your bedroom. “This might just be the best Tuesday in the world,” you tell him, dancing like a dork. “Because…I feel the same way, Harrington.”

As you pull him in to kiss, you don’t see the crowd of kids peering through the crack of the half-closed door, watching as you two adolescents finally got together. You don’t see Will beaming, you don’t see Max holding Lucas’ hand.

Your eyes are closed, and you’re close to Steve Harrington, listening to Stevie Wonder. And it is, for you, the best Tuesday in the world. Ever.

[planetsam]

pretty please with a cherry on top: a mileven fic (maybe aged up a little but) where some boy hits on el and mike goes into jealous but also protective boyfriend mode pls

“What was that?!”

Mike turns as El stares him down, air rushing through him at the furious look on her face. She’s mad at him and he feels like he’s waking up from a dream. He’s not afraid of her abilities, hasn’t been for a long long time but he’s afraid of the look on her face. He opens his mouth to explain but El jumps on it before he can.

“I said I was handling!”

Mike winces, not because of the tone but because of the missing word. Great bouts of emotion reduce her speech, this is no exception. But the emotion isn’t from the Neanderthal off a jock who touched uhh her knee during class, no, it’s from him cornering the guy and telling him to keep his hands off his girlfriend. If things were bad before, they’re worse now. He hates upsetting her.

“I know,” he says, looking down only to have her turn their height difference on him as she stares up at him.

“No, you forget, I said I was handling it. You’ll get hurt!”

“Hey!” He objects. He might not be telekinetic but he’s not useless, “that’s not fair.”

“You always fighting for me isn’t fair,” she objects, fixing him with a glare, “you never let me talk to the bullies.”

“Your talking isn’t the problem,” leaves his lips.

He’s fucked up.

Bad.

She reels back with a gasp and when Mike opens his mouth to explain or just apologize, he finds himself quite stuck where he is. It’s not painful, but it’s like the universe has collapsed upon him and is strongly suggesting he reconsider moving. It’s not a negotiation. She’s furious and upset, he feels like complete crap even though the current situation is more or less proving his point. He won’t risk her using her powers on anyone who doesn’t have her best interest at heart—unless it’s a permanent thing. He might have fantasies about killing anyone whose ever hurt him, but they aren’t things he’d act upon. There’s been enough suffering and death in his lifetime already.

El grips her schoolbag and bounces on the balls of her feet, torn between huffing off and not leaving him alone. She doesn’t exactly want to let him go though. Like they’ve practiced a million times she closes her eyes and takes three measured deep breaths, but unlike those practices the vice around him doesn’t let up. Doesn’t change at all, actually, and a part of him wants to congratulate her the separation from her emotions.

“I’ll let you go when I am at the station,” she informs him, “I will talk to you Monday,” she continues , “Monday,” she repeats, “you think about being my boyfriend and figure out how to handle it.”

Then, just because the universe is especially cruel today, she kisses the corner of his mouth and runs off. Twenty minutes later her power releases him and he barely catches himself from dropping to the ground. He doesn’t catch himself from swearing loud enough that the vice principal gives him three days of detention. It rains on the way home, just because. Even though it’s only four, Mike drops face first onto the bed and decides not to chance it.

He has the same nightmare.

They’re younger again and instead of hiding for good reasons she’s hiding because she doesn’t want to see him again. He’s weak, he didn’t protect her. He wasn’t strong enough. Her head’s shaved always, but sometimes she’s also hurt. Sometimes she isn’t, but there’s a hollow look to her that he feels sick at. Her voice echos back to him, colder than he ever remembers.

‘Goodbye. Mike.’

He bolts up in bed, sheets tangled and shirt wet with sweat. He gasps unsteadily in the darkness, stupidly looking for El even though she swore they weren’t going to speak until Monday and she is good at keeping her promises. That doesn’t mean he’s alone though. Holly’s sitting at his desk, what he assumes is his dinner near her elbow. She isn’t watching him, she’s reading. He isn’t stupid enough to think she’s not aware of him though.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he changes his shirt.

“You look terrible,” she says, “not just nightmare terrible. Did El dump you?”

“No!” He says, “we had a fight.”

“Oh,” she says, “what did you do?”

“I yelled at someone who touched her.”

Holly nods and flips the text book page.

“She’s probably just worried like you are,” She says cutting through to the core of it, “Jonathan and Nancy used to fight about that too.”

Mike looks surprised on purpose but Holly rolls her eyes. She talks anyway though.

“Nancy said he was a Neanderthal and he said he wanted her to be safe. She told him to shove it and kicked him out.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Well then he came back and said that they should work together because they would both be safe then. That’s why she agreed to marry him.”

Mike looks over at the card he’s got pinned up, reminding them that the wedding is taking place in a few months. They’re both in the respective wedding parties. El’s going to be his date and Will’s told him that there’s an early draft of Jonathan’s vows that involve the words ‘bear trap’. His sister doesn’t have super powers, but she definitely is the type to not stand for the kind of shit he pulled.

“I’d be honest,” Holly advises.

“Thank you for that,” Mike says sarcastically, “would you wait for Monday too?”

“Only if I didn’t want to be single,” she says and flips the page.

He drive to El’s cabin early Monday morning. He isn’t surprised to find Jim Hopper out there, a pack of cigarettes in a tiny ball in his hand. He looks up at Mike who prepares himself for whatever comes next. Hopper just shakes his head and tosses the ball away, managing to swear only once when it smacks him in the back of the head.

“I live in a convent,” he complains, “no smoking, no littering,” he raises his voice, “am I allowed inside, Mother Superior?”

“No!” Comes the reply, “Mike first!”

“You have fifteen minutes before I bring down the wrath of God,” he says and the door swings open. Mike goes inside. The cabin is much cozier and seems to get more so every time he visits. He knows which seat is his and takes it. El appears with waffles and sets them down before sitting across from him. She’s dressed nicely and Mike is torn between appreciating the view and bracing himself for the hurricane that might follow. Too many soap operas have made her firmly hold to fights happening when she’s dressed up, but there aren’t any sparkles so he thinks he might have a shot.

“I want to keep you safe,” she says in a measured tone.

“I want to keep you safe,” he says emphasizing it, “El you’ve got powers but that doesn’t mean—“

“Not powers,” she cuts in, “I want to keep you safe here too,” she says pointing at her chest, “dating me is hard.”

“El—“

“Let me finish,” she says and he presses his lips together, “dating me is hard, it will get harder. You have to give up things. More than most,” she looks at him, “I love you, but if you need to go you can.”

He waits for her to continue but she looks down, signaling him that she’s finished. He’s immediately up and coming around the table, kneeling near her so that she doesn’t get up. She looks at him, struggling to close off her emotions. Struggling to look strong. She is strong in so many ways, she might be strongest in ways like this.

“I would give up everything to be with you,” he says firmly, “Hey—hey you know that,” he reminds her, “it hasn’t changed. I don’t just want to keep you safe, I want you to be happy. I thought I could take on just this one thing,” his heart aches as a tear trickles down her cheek, “don’t cry,” he pleads, “El I was being dumb. I will let you handle it next time. El—“

“I put gum in Cindy’s hair!” She confesses, “she said you were dreamy and I—I put gum in her hair. You were right!”

He sighs her name and pulls her into his arms right before the guilty tears come out. She clings to him tightly as he whispers nonsense and kisses the top of her curls. The hard thing, they’ve learned, isn’t just that he sacrifices. It’s that sometimes she feels like the monster and doesn’t understand how he can be okay with it. She doesn’t understand how he stays past her mistakes and shortcomings, doesn’t understand that he has them too. That her humanity is what he fell in love with. She’s half in his lap and he stays on the floor until the torrent of emotion ebbs.

“You know I don’t care about Cindy,” he says and she nods.

“You know I didn’t care about Matt,” she says and he frowns, “the boy in the lab, his name was Matt,” she elaborates.

“Oh,” he says, he didn’t know that and didn’t care. El rolls her eyes at him, “Okay we both have to work on this,” he realizes aloud. El looks up at him hopefully, “we’ll do better ok? We’ll try.”

“Promise?” She says. He nods.

“Promise.”

She helps him up as she wipes her cheeks and opens the door for Hopper. He appraises her outfit and sighs that there’s no glitter.

“I put gum in Cindy’s hair,” she says and he nods.

“Yeah, but I already talked to your principal about it,” he says. She looks surprised, “I caught Cindy smoking behind the school. She dropped it.”

Mike grins before Hopper glares at him and he goes back to his waffles. Under the tiny table, he feels one of El’s feet hook around his ankle. He softens at the weight of it.

“You’re still grounded though,” Hopper adds.

“Fine,” El huffs, knowing she got off easy all things considered.