#you're causing them so much work and demonstrably doing absolutely nothing in return

[hjemne]

Long rant. If my housemate turns up strangled then you're not allowed to use this in court against me or whatever. My genuine opinion is that this guy needs amphetamines and financial hardship, and he's not going to bother getting better without that

Housemate has 6 exams to pass, then one more year of university. Housemate has taken 2 years out already. Housemate goes to Very Prestigious University who very rarely lets people take 2 years out to begin with.

Housemate moves in mid-April. Literally does not leave the house for over a month. Lives off deliveroo. Does negative amounts of housework. Comes out to shower twice a day for 30+ mins with boiling hot water. Otherwise is in his room 23/7. Turned down all offers to socialise 'until after exams' starting two months before exams.

Housemate does not go to revision classes. Housemate does not go to lectures. Housemate does not do anything.

Day before first exam, housemate realises he misread his exam timetable. He has not prepared for the exam the next day. This is somehow not his fault. Housemate decides to take a third year out. Housemate misses the first exam. Housemate's father flies across the world to support him.

Housemate schedules a meeting to discuss taking a third year out. The meeting is at the same time as his second exam. Housemate misses his second exam. Very Prestigious University decides he cannot take a third year out. Housemate thinks this is unfair, because one person in the past was allowed to take three years out. Housemate does not appreciate how exceptional it is to be allowed to take even two years out. Very Prestigious University gives him a very generous compromise of averaging his mark for the final four exams, ignoring the two he missed. Housemate does not appreciate how exceptional this offer is.

Housemate has 6 days between the meeting and his first (third) exam. Housemates sister flies across the world to support him. Housemate decides the day before his first (third) exam that he is dropping out. Housemate immediately gives up at the second first sign of trouble. Housemate wants to change to a different course but stay at the Very Prestigious University. Housemate is fucking deluded about his reality.

Meanwhile, I have sat 6 exams in 8 days at the same Very Prestigious University, representing over 60% of my final grade for my entire 4 year degree.

Housemate has ADHD and depression. I have ADHD and depression. Housemate faced close family bereavement last year. I faced close family bereavement two months ago. Housemate is sad because 5 years ago he was 'falsely accused of rape' and lost friends. I was raped by my domestic partner last year and could only start processing it a few months ago when my housing no longer depended on staying with my rapist. Housemate thinks he has suffered more than Jesus on the cross and so should get special exemptions to university rules (he also thinks he should get his third year off because he misread the single paragraph rule around taking time off). Housemate doesn't seem to consider that other people also have things going on in their lives, but which they have to push through and deal with by actively engaging in the support available instead of months-long self-imposed isolation. Housemate told the university staff who have been helping him that it's the university's problem if so many people are struggling. Which may be true but is a bold fucking move from the guy who has done nothing for multiple years and then expects the university staff to bail him out last minute and do what he wants them to do.

Housemate is also a terrible housemate. Housemate continues to misgender NB housemate. Housemate owes NB housemate hundreds in unpaid bills that he forgets about. Housemate got me alone in his room at 2am and tried to kiss me despite me giving zero indication that I in any way wanted that. Housemate does not do the very very simplest of household tasks despite multiple verbal, texted and printed reminders. Housemate leaves blood (from acne) in the bathroom for others to clean up. Housemate is so goddamn useless and willfully, deliberately ignorant that he doesn't bother trying to unload the dishwasher "because he doesn't know where plates go" my brother in Christ you have spent four months in this house and it is a tiny fucking house!!!!!!! Use your eyeballs you obtuse motherfucker!!!! do you not have a shred of curiosity or independence?? Is there truly nothing going on upstairs?? It's not even that he needs everything spelled out for him, because no matter how many reminders he gets, he still doesn't do it. He needs everything done for him. He doesn't even get his groceries from the shop 5 mins away bc he gets everything delivered. He is 23. He has actively and deliberately cut himself off from others, and then moans about not having a 'proper university experience'. He genuinely seems to believe in his own self-importance, genuinely seems to believe that rules should bend around whatever he wants to happen. He thinks he's the world's specialest and most persecuted little guy when he's really just an incompetent man who cannot function without being coddled by mummy or without being bankrolled by daddy, who is driving himself further into his mental health spiral by refusing to face up to responsibility or reality or consequences. And he can afford to do this because his family are extremely wealthy, so he can always find an escape from doing anything even slightly hard. Because family money gives him the ability to do nothing at all! And so he wont! Because he's not even attempting to manage his ADHD, and so he will always procrastinate until the last minute, then use his money to wiggle out of it anyway. It's destroying him!! And he's destroying my sanity!

I'm going to start tearing him limb from limb with my teeth.

Only positive is that I now look incredible in comparison. Doesn't matter what grade I graduate with, because I at least will graduate

[chipped-chimera]

FOR THE TIRED PEOPLE: Some new research about Chronic + ADHD(inattentive) related fatigue, and BCAAs

[DISCLAIMER // I AM NOT A DOCTOR. I AM NOT A MEDICAL PRACTITIONER. I AM NOT A DIETICIAN. I'm just a big tired nerd with way too much time on my hands who likes science. I am however, sharing this because this could potentially help others and BCAAs are already safe for human consumption, widely used and easily accessible. If you are uncertain about adding BCAAs to your diet please talk to your doctor first. There are also some medications which interact negatively with BCAA's. Do your research. Also generally be careful about taking medical advice from the internet! ]

I was going to post about something else but I went down the rabbit hole of explaining this study I read and decided that no, this needed it's own thing or it's gonna be a mile long.

So in one of my usual weekly fatigue breakdowns where I was scraping the internet for any kind of information that might point out something I've SURELY missed to explain why I feel the way I do, I stumbled across this study published last year (2022) -

[ The relationship between central fatigue and Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder of the inattentive type ]

The TL;DR on the paper - our previous assumptions about the tryptophan-serotonin system might be wrong (tryptophan being the precursor for a bunch of stuff, including melatonin which is the sleepy chemical - aka why people say drink warm milk before bed to help sleep, that's tryptophan) what was previously assumed was reducing tryptophan = bad because it could affect serotonin production.

Testing in rats (so grain of salt here) indicated that higher levels of tryptophan =/= higher levels of serotonin and when reducing the level of free tryptophan in the bloodstream it returned to baseline. High levels of tryptophan were associated with fatigue and inattention, and rats on a tryptophan deficient diet by contrast took longer to reach a state of exhaustion. I'm skipping over a bunch of stuff but basically - research is now pointing to both Chronic Fatigue and ADHD related fatigue being related to Central Nervous System Fatigue which up until now, has only really been associated with the fatigue athletes experience when exercising really hard (now just picture me doing jack shit and feeling like that every day. Yeah). I've only just stared to see bits and pieces pop up about this recently but nothing in relation to this tryptophan study.

Anyway, the thing about BCAAs: BCAAs (Branched Chain Amino Acids) are currently used to reduce the uptake of tryptophan in the brain for better performance in athletes, help with reduction of exercise fatigue (CNS fatigue) and muscle building. You can pretty easily find BCAA's added to protein-shakes or in it's own kind of supplement. It also occurs naturally in some foods (Beef, Chicken, Eggs, Lentils, Chickpeas, Brown Rice etc.) so it is absolutely safe to consume. It's also generally fairly affordable (especially compared to the lengthy process of treatment + medications that might not even work and you have to keep changing them, yes I am talking from personal experience).

Again, this is all very new and absolutely needs so much more research because up until now, no one has really been sure what causes Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but tests have shown that those suffering CFS demonstrate similar activation of their muscles as fatigued athletes - as in they could activate them but not to their full capacity. This connection is only considered 'possible' and it might take a good few years before we can say anything with certainty.

But as an extremely tired bitch who is extremely tired of being extremely fucking tired, I am sharing this because it's easy to get, safe, and affordable and if you're like me you're about ready to try anything. And it's not another goddamn pill (I'm on 14 a day).

Also for the ADHDers specifically: protein rich diets are usually advised for us because it helps with the metabolism of stimulants, and can help with softening medication crashes when they wear off. So adding a protein shake with BCAAs to your morning routine might be a good idea. Or just any protein shake in general.

There can be side effects to taking BCAAs, but it is considered rare and this depends entirely on the person. Cross check existing medications, talk to your doc etc. if you are not 100% certain adding BCAAs to your diet is possible. Stay safe peeps.

[that-yandere-life]

Hello! I saw your post about your birthday, and I was just going to submit this so I don't forget! I would love a yandere NSFW alphabet for Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds, please. I absolutely love that boy. If you're not able to do that, it's totally fine! By the way, how are you doing right now? Just thought I should check in as well with everything going on right now. Thank you so much, and Happy Birthday!! 🖤🖤🖤

[Thank you so much for helping me celebrate! I hope this is everything you were looking for darling!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Spencer isn’t exactly experienced in the bedroom, but he is a genius who would want to make sure that he does everything right by you. So that means plenty of research on how to properly pleasure you and take care of you. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favorite part of his: His hands, the way they feel touching you sensually, to using his long fingers to bring you to orgasm over and over again. Also the sensation of gripping your hips as he thrusts into you with all of his might. 

Favorite part of yours: Your hips, especially with remnants of a bruise from the tight grip he keeps on them while plunging into you as deep as he can. Or light nail marks left behind during a rougher session. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside of you is his clear favorite choice, while you might not exactly expect that from him. If you are uncomfortable with that he will compromise and cum on your stomach or chest. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lowkey has a breeding kink, even though he is worried about passing on any mental illness to your potential children. Being with you makes that risk worth the price to him. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, but is very good at reading people due to his job so he knows how to pleasure you better than anyone you have ever been with before. Not to mention is an exceptionally fast learner, listening to your feedback and taking it to heart every single time. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary because he loves holding you down and taking you, while being able to watch you fall apart. This is also because it helps him read your body language so he can adjust his technique if need be.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Spencer will likely be more serious most of the time, but that doesn’t mean that situations don’t happen where neither of you can help but laugh. It’s never perfect or easy to engage in the act of lovemaking. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Spencer keeps it trimmed, although sometimes he let’s it go for too long as it’s not something he constantly gives attention to. If it bothers you however he will make a conscious effort to maintain his landscaping for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Spencer is very romantic in the moment, kissing you, complimenting you, and telling you how much he loves you. It’s never just about pleasure to him, it’s about that connection that you get during and after.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he was single he didn’t really think about it much, especially with his high pace job that kept him on the go most of the time. Now if he has to be away from you he can’t help himself, might even ask for nude photographs to be securely sent to him. (There is no way he will let that kind of thing get out)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I mentioned a breeding kink but that isn’t the only kink our seemingly sweet innocent lad enjoys participating in. Another one he engages in is spanking, and possibly even a daddy kink underlying. Try calling him Daddy, see what happens. ;)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mostly in the privacy of your bedroom, or hotel rooms depending on where he is that week. (If he keeps working, he will bring you with him everywhere. It would be a requirement, even if it breaks policy.)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, the most sensual moment to him is any time you touch his shoulder, even if it was absentmindedly. The soft gesture really gets him in the mood to worship your body, not to mention the ground you walk on. ;)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing with intense pain, he has gone through enough in his life that he doesn’t want to cause harm to anyone else. Would try a little wax play, or the like if you wanted though, as long as it doesn’t really harm you in the end.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

At first he felt a little awkward when you would get down on your knees for him, or offer to give him a blowjob. However after reassuring him that you don’t mind doing it, he gets really into it when you do it for him. Ultimately he is a giver, so he will truly enjoy returning the favor, or just offering whenever the two of you have down time. SIT ON HIS FACE!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mostly slow and sensual, but after a really bad or rough day he will plow you into the mattress until you can’t go anymore. It’s a very therapeutic way for him to relieve the stress that his life is filled with on a daily basis.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Spencer usually wants to take his time with you, not being one for rushing. That’s not to say that he won’t be able to hold back from the thrill of taking you someplace while others around you have no idea what is about to happen. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

For the most part he would try most anything you asked him, unless it had a chance of affecting his job or reputation too negatively.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Definitely can go for a few rounds, but can’t exactly go all night like some can. That is not to say that you won’t finish multiple times before he is finished with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Spencer will buy all the toys you want, knowing how they can seriously stimulate intimacy in the bedroom. Only the best however, and trust that he has looked up everything about what is on the market.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Doesn’t really do the teasing, but responses VERY well to being teased, or challenged in anyway.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Usual grunts and groans, will likely tell you multiple times how lucky he is to have you. Praising you intermittently, the words just falling from his tongue in the moment.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Wants to watch you masturbate with the toys he buys you, demanding a demonstration whenever a new one is purchased. Watching you use what he gets you really gets him off, and will even sometimes help you use it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I would say a bit above average on length, and average thickness. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Average sex drive, especially when he starts dating you. Before he didn’t really think about it all that much so it didn’t affect him as much.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Absolutely would not fall asleep until you are taken care of, even if he is exhausted beyond belief. You are his number one priority.

[blznbaby]

Man Flu

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC (Marcella)

Audience: PG. Humor and Fluff. Some sexual content. Nothing crazy.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixleberry Studios.

Masterlist

Tags: @museofbooks @callmetippytumbles @cocomaxley @hopefulmoonobject @pixieferry @i-choose-liam @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn

Marcella laid sexily on the enormous bed. Scented candles flickered brightly, casting a warm glow to illuminate the dim room while emitting a delicious scent. Liam would walk in any minute now from his business trip in Italy. It had been days since she’d been in her husband’s arms and she was anxiously awaiting his return. She looked stunning in her sheer, white, beaded silk nightgown that hugged her curves in all the right places and smelled heavenly courtesy to the perfume Liam had gifted her on their most recent wedding anniversary. The bedroom door slowly opened, heralding her king’s return. She smiled, her body tingling with anticipation. Liam went straight for the bed and sprawled out, eyes closed, still clothed in his royal regalia. Shoes and all. She wasn’t even sure if he noticed she was there. “Liam?” she asked cautiously. He let out a small moan, but didn’t stir. Marcella looked with concern at her husband who lay unmoving on the bed. “Liam, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Liam opened his eyes. “Marcella…” he moaned hoarsely. “Don't come too close, my love. I’m dying…”

“You're what?” she asked, alarmed.

“I’m sick. I’m dying…” he repeated, coughing a few times to emphasize his point before closing his eyes again. She gave him a quick once over. He certainly didn’t look like he was dying. In fact, he didn’t even look extremely ill, just a slight flush in his cheeks and a groan or two. She got up to fetch him a cup of tea in hopes that it would make him feel a little less like he was “dying.” She blew out the candles with a sigh on her way out. Apparently this wasn’t going to be the romantic night she’d envisioned for them at all.

ooOoo

“Marcella, I need to go to the hospital!”

“Liam, your temperature is only slightly elevated,” she replied, stroking his forehead with an amused smile.

“That thermometer must be broken then,” he declared, sulking. Marcella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“It works perfectly fine, Liam. You’re not dying, you just have a cold, you'll live.” He didn’t look as though he believed her. “Marcella, you don't feel how I’m feeling right now!” he protested pathetically. Such a drama king. When she said her vows ‘in sickness and in health,’ she never imagined this. Last night, Liam had come down with a cold, as demonstrated by his runny/stuffy nose, sore throat, cough, and watery eyes, but from the way he’d been acting, you would have thought the man had caught the plague. Marcella’s expert diagnosis: man flu. The dreaded godfather of all ailments, which takes over the male species at any given time, resulting in grouchiness, moodiness, and general feeling of feebleness and pathetic whining and her brave, confident, resilient husband, the King of Cordonia wasn’t immune to such an affliction. And now she must also suffer. She tried calling for backup, but Liam refused all help from friends and staff not wanting to infect the population. He hadn’t left their bedroom since the night prior, curled up in bed like some kind of overly-large fetus, watching crappy talk shows and requesting honey and lemon drinks in the most pathetic voice she’d ever heard whenever she got anywhere near the vicinity of the landing. He was working her nerves.

“Marcella?” Liam coughed as she bypassed the bedroom on her way to the linen closet. “My love, is that you?” Oh for heaven’s sake. “Yes, Liam. It’s me.”

There he was in the bed, his head laid on a cloud of fluffy pillows, buried under a dozen blankets with Chance curled up at his side. His perfectly placed hair was now a disheveled mess, sticking up in every direction. He sniffled, wiping at his red nose with a tissue before tossing it in the bedside trashcan along with the rest of the discarded tissues. “What now, Liam?” she asked with a sigh. He looked up at her pitifully. “I’d think that in my vulnerable state, you’d speak to me a bit more nicely.”

“You have a cold, Liam.”

“I have the flu,” he replied, looking wounded.

“Yeah, man flu,” she countered. Just then Liam’s phone rang. Marcella answered since her husband claimed to be “too weak” to pick up. It was Drake asking how his best friend was holding up.

“He’s fine. Just over reacting a little,” Marcella said with a grin.

“I am not. You all may very well need a new king.”

“I swear you get more and more dramatic with each day that passes. You’re turning into Regina.” She smiled to herself, knowing he really hated to even consider being anything like the woman.

“Your words wound me more than any case of the flu ever could.”

Marcella sighed again as she entered the room. This was the fifth time in the last hour that Liam had called for her. She tried to rearrange her face into an expression of sympathy, which wasn’t too hard, actually. She wasn’t used to Liam being like this and the sight of him was rather pitiful. He pointed toward the end of the bed. “My feet are cold.” She shook her head. “That’s because you’ve pulled the blankets all the way up and around your chin.” He just looked at her, eyes begging for help. She rearranged his blankets, covering his feet and looked up to see him holding the banana she had brought to him earlier at his request, his look, perplexed, like he couldn’t figure out what to do with it. He held it out to her, a pleading look on his face.

“Seriously? I know you're sick and the king and all, but I know even you can handle peeling a banana. It’s not that hard.” He just sniffled and coughed, and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Oh, give it here,” she sighed. “You big baby.”

“And could you please cut it up?” he added as she took the fruit from him and cut it up on the small tray that also held his untouched tea. “And be sure to drink up,” she added as she cut the banana. Liam looked at the teacup like it had grown horns. “But…no straw?”

“Since when the hell do you need a straw to drink tea?!” A coughing fit overtook the stricken king, and in between coughs he managed to choke out, “please,” blinking his watery eyes. “And not just any straw. My favorite straw.” Marcella put on a tight smile and mumbled something under her breath as she went to retrieve his swirly straw. When she returned Liam was cocooned so far down into the blankets that only his messy dark hair was visible. “Liam?” she whispered. No answer. She slipped out of the room shutting the door carefully and did a victory dance when she made it to the stairs. “Marcella! My feet are cold again!”

ooOoo

Marcella sighed and shut her eyes as she heard the ringing in her ears. Why did she give Liam that damn bell?! He’d been ringing it incessantly for two days now. She thought it would be better than him bellowing her name every five minutes. She was wrong. He was the king for goodness sake! The man who in his thirty years of life had endured more pain and suffering to last a lifetime, but somehow the common cold brought him to his knees. Every little symptom was cause for complaint and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. She heard the bell ring again, followed by a pitiful moan. “Marcella…” She entered the room, hands on her hips. “You rang, Your Majesty?”

“My love, could you please close the curtains? I’m afraid the sunlight is hurting my sensitive eyes.” She bit her lip and nodded. “Sure.” She walked over and pulled the curtains closed.

“But perhaps not that much. I enjoy a little bit of light.” Her fists clenched as she pulled the curtains open a bit, nearly pulling them off the rod with her solid grip. “Better?”

“Perfect.” He offered her a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“Anything else I can get you before I go? Lemon syrup? Cough drops? I dunno…cupcakes?”

He looked at her, stunned. “You’re leaving?”

“Liam," she sighed. "I’ve been waiting on you hand and foot for three days now. I have to get back to work and make sure things are in order. With Regina and Leo away there's been no one to help cover our duties.”

“I see. Well, my apologies for being so much trouble,” he mumbled.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew what he was doing and it wasn’t going to work. She handed him his phone. “If you need me, call me and I’ll come right back.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he muttered. “I’m sure I can fend for myself in my declining state.” Against her better judgement, she pressed a kiss to his lips. She didn’t want to risk getting sick, but she knew a kiss would placate him for a bit. “You’ll be fine.” She assured him.

“I beg to differ. I feel like I’m on my deathbed and my head is going to explode. I still think I need to go to the hospital.”

“For the thousandth time, you do not need to go to the hospital. It's just the common cold.”

“There’s nothing common about it.” He scoffed. “Why isn't there a cure for this infernal disease?” he cried in frustration.

“First of all, it isn’t a disease and the only cure is to ride this thing out and try to relieve the symptoms with over the counter drugs like we’ve been doing.”

“I suppose I’ll just suffer then.”

"Whatever you say, my king."

Liam missed Marcella the moment she walked out the door, but then again he always missed her, but he was especially missing the fact that there was no one to take care of him now. Sure he could call on the wait staff, but he wanted his wife. He decided that the common cold was far worse than any other affliction he’d ever faced. Being confined in the bed for three days was absolute hell. He let out a sigh. He was bored. Maybe there was something on tv that would distract him from his pain and suffering. Where’s the remote? He looked on the bed, but didn’t see it. Damn it.

ooOoo

“Hey, Hawkins,” Drake greeted when he spotted Marcella in the hallway. “How’s Liam? Still under the weather?”

“Yeah. And being a huge baby.”

“And you’re surprised?” Said the new voice in the hallway. Olivia. “Men are such pussies when they’re sick.”

“Hey! I resent that.” Drake objected.

“Oh, please. You’re the worst of them all. Remember when you had strep throat?” Olivia grinned.

“I couldn’t swallow.”

“I found you laying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.”

He shrugged. “It was painful.”

Just then Marcella’s cell phone rang and she saw the name on the screen. Liam. “Speak of the devil,” she said, answering the phone. “Yes, love?”

“I can’t find the remote control.”

“Maybe it fell on the floor or under the bed. Did you look there?”

“I didn't. I’m far too weak and lightheaded.” Marcella pinched the bridge of her nose. She heard him groan.

“Ah, there it is!” she breathed a sigh of relief. “…but…it’s out of reach.”

“Liam, you’re insane if you think I’m coming back just to pick up the remote.”

“Please, my love. I’m losing my mind with boredom.” She sighed. Heavily. “Fine. I’ll also bring you some chicken soup from the kitchens.”

“Thank you, my love.”

She entered the bedroom and found the remote three feet from the bed, handing it to the sick king. “Feeling any better?” she asked. “I am now that you’re here,” he smiled and she couldn’t help but to smile back at him. He was a royal pain in the ass, but he was her royal pain in the ass. “Here’s your soup. Eat up whenever you’re hungry,” she held it up for him to see and placed it on the nightstand. “You’re not going to feed it to me?” She swore that if she didn’t love the man so much she’d probably kill him.

Eventually, Liam gathered up the strength to sit up and eat the soup. He sighed. No spoon. He rung the bell, then remembered that no one would come. Marcella wasn’t there. He sighed again. The soup was now only lukewarm at best. He stared at the door, just the thought of having to go all the way downstairs to warm up the soup and get a spoon was too much to bear. He was far too weak.

Marcella groaned as she looked at the stack of paperwork that had accumulated on her desk over the last few days. She wasn’t even fifteen minutes in before her phone rang. “Yes, Liam?”

“The soup is cold…and I don’t have a spoon.”

She closed her eyes. “And I’m assuming there’s no chance of you going to the kitchen to warm it up and get a spoon.”

“I can’t even consider it in my debilitated state. I’m likely to fall down the stairs if I attempt such a thing.” She rubbed her temple and prayed for patience. He was tap dancing on her last nerve. You love him, you love him, you love him, she chanted in her head serving as a reminder that she vowed to love him no matter what. The worst part was that she knew he would do it for her, but of course, she wouldn’t be the big baby that he was being. But then, she wasn’t a man either. She shook her head. He’s not himself and he will be the caring, charming self-assured man you married in no time. She opened her eyes and glanced at the pile of paperwork, maybe she could use a break.

Marcella entered the bedroom to retrieve the lukewarm soup and she knew he was watching her ass as she left. He was so predictable, no matter how sick he claimed to be. She returned a short time later with piping hot soup and a spoon, agreeing to feed it to him to escape the mountain of paperwork. Liam smiled at her, and took her hand, the act the most natural thing in the world to him and she used her free hand to feed him the soup until he had his fill.

“Thank you for taking care of me, my love. I know I haven’t been the easiest patient.”

“You’re welcome. I know you would do the same for me.”

“I’d do anything for you.” He replied softly. And she knew it was the truth. “And I’m sorry that my intense illness ruined our evening the other night. You looked absolutely gorgeous in that nightgown. I wanted you so bad. But I didn’t want you to get sick too…”

“Yes, I wouldn’t have wanted to catch your uh…’intense illness,’” she agreed. “But its okay, Liam. I love you, and the only thing I want is for you to get better.”

“I love you too,” he replied softly, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feel of each other. Before long, Liam had fallen asleep, letting out a small snore, and she smiled at her beloved, hypochondriac husband as she left to go back to work.

ooOoo

The next morning, Liam was feeling a bit better. He watched his wife as she slept, looking like a peaceful, beautiful angel and felt a tinge of guilt for acting like a self-absorbed fool. He thanked his lucky stars for Marcella's remarkable restraint, obviously taking her vows 'in sickness and in health' very seriously as evidenced to the fact that she hadn't killed him. She was amazing and he needed her to know how grateful he was to be her husband. How fortunate he was to get to spend his life with her. How amazing his life had been since she became a part of it. He threw the covers back and, feeling a little unsteady, forced himself out of bed. He quickly and quietly showered, dressed, and headed downstairs.

Liam entered their bedroom with a tray of eggs, bacon, fruit, his famous Belgian waffles, and a cup of coffee made just how he knew she liked it. He could have easily called the cook, but he wanted to do this for her. With every move, he felt himself gaining more strength and energy. He was beginning to feel much better. I can do anything for her. 

“Liam..you...what are you doing out of bed?” Marcella stammered as she sat up.

“Good morning, my love." He sat the tray on the table and sat beside her on the bed. “You’ve cared for me for three days and I wanted to do something to show you my gratitude. Please forgive me for my extreme behavior.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his lips. “There’s nothing to forgive. Like I said before, I know you would have done the same for me. Even though, I wouldn't act like the big baby you were being.” They chuckled and his hand cupped her check, thumb caressing her soft skin, as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes. “Just know that I will never take you for granted. You have made me happier than I've ever thought possible. Getting to wake up next to you every morning and have you fall asleep in my arms every night is nothing short of amazing. I am the luckiest man in the world to be able to call you my wife.” God I love this man. She looked into his dark eyes. The eyes she got to wake up to every morning. He never ceased to amaze her. They shared the amazing breakfast he prepared and ate every bite. “How did you do all of this if you were feeling so sick?”

“I guess love has incredible healing powers.” He winked. “I am feeling much better.” Marcella straddled his lap, snaking her arms around his neck. “Well enough for some extracurricular activities?” she asked seductively. If he wasn't before, he was now. He crushed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, flipping her onto the mattress, his body on top of hers. God how I've missed this. He pulled back and lovingly caressed her cheek as he stared into her eyes.There’s the man I married.

“I think it’s safe to say that someone has made a full recovery. It’s a miracle!” she teased.

“Yes. Thanks to you. You, my love, are the best medicine.” And he gladly accepted every dose of her powerful medicine every three to six hours. Just what the doctor ordered.

[sagebodisattva]

Free Will & Determinism: The Dark Room Test

Alright, so getting back into the arena of free will and determinism, I'd like to address some general points raised in contemporary thought concerning these matters. Apparently, a common problem that many of my online philosophical colleagues seem to struggle with, but is also a common predisposition among people in general, is this tendency of getting caught up and distracted by the illusions of sensory perception. This is the apparent extent to the event horizon for their philosophical ruminations. They accept sensory data at face value, don't find any motivation to question it, and refuse to devote any cognition to a reassessment of the subject from a meta analytical standpoint. Don't get me wrong, they all have some good points, and perhaps understand fragments to the appearance of the truth, but overall, they generally don't want to have anything to do with the actual raw truth, which is why they consistently ignore it.

I think one of the reasons why they don't deal with the truth, is because they can't. For to deal with the truth means a possible end to the constant aimless meandering of all this philosophical masturbation. What they want to evade is the fact that what they call reality, that is, the information contained in the sensory data, is a product of the actual reality, the awareness of sensory data. They don't wanna deal with this. Instead, they want to convolute and get caught up in a whole bunch of abstractions expounding upon the value, meaning, and purpose of the information assumed as an objectified construct. This is the essence of their positions: intellectual narratives about the proposed concrete inner workings of a so called objectively existing mechanical system that is really nothing more then incorporeal experiential phenomena that is completely mental in nature. This is an undeniable fact, which needs no support from evidence, as it is already inherent. It's all of their faith based intellectual beliefs about this mental phenomena that bare the burden of proof here, which can't even be put through it's paces with genuine sincerity without first addressing that which provides context to the phenomena.

Some idealist philosophers come closer to the truth then the rest of the lot, as they seem to somewhat understand that the purpose of an existential manifestation lies within experience itself, while other materialist philosophers stand their ground as literalists, who completely reject their own agency in favor of their structured abstractions of the intellect, while hardcore soft boiled determinists lag not far behind, caught in the traction of their numerous contradictions, seemingly unable to decide if feelings and experiences are integral to reality, which will often depend on the mood for the day, while trying to maintain an outward appearance of hard determinism, all the while continually spouting rhetoric laced with emotional appeals to agency.

So some of them are further along then the others, but all of them seem to get snagged by the illusions of perception, and the externalizations ensue. So then it becomes a game of pointing. Pointing at their own abstractions and intellectual narratives concerning the sensory illusions of properties, identities, materials, conceptual film strips, feelings, evolution and the universe. What they don't seem to appreciate is that all of these things represent intellectual constructs about experiential phenomena produced in a purely mental context. They seem mesmerized and transfixed on the face value of it, so it's no wonder they can't engage in any meta cognition, and instead remain stuck in the tight confines of the self restricting protocols of logic. I guess the razzle dazzle of the sense candy, coupled with the constant yammering of their internal narratives, are just too distracting for them, hence preventing them from ever seeking to obtain an outside reference... and that's a shame. But it is what it is.

I have already gone over the implications of the scientifically backed findings that show that the point of effectuation, that is, that which acts as the force of will, initiating movement and creative inspiration, happens prior to conscious awareness of it, and is seated as a deeper inherent function of the subconscious mind. This is important to understand, as a common misconception, as demonstrated by the soft boiled determinist’s likewise erroneous assumption, is that thoughts and ideas happen first, and then a will is developed accordingly, but the research shows just the opposite. The will happens irrespective of what thoughts or desires are brewing in the sentience of the conscious mind. Not to say that the conscious mind cannot give suggestions to the subconscious, it can, but they are just suggestions, not commands that must be obeyed.

It's amazing how little people know about the subconscious. The fact that people are so out of touch with this, and come up with all kinds of strange ideas that this aspect of themselves is somehow prior, separate or independent from themselves, is, once again, due to what they have been conditioned to believe about sensory information. So much misunderstanding is all due to confusions with sensory perception.

If you want to propose determinism as a truth in an objective format, then you have to be able to present it in an experimental demonstration. Of course, the simplest way would involve locking a launching device into a fixed position, aimed at a pool of absolute still waters, in an airtight chamber. If you shoot a rock at the water, it should create a pattern of ripples. Now, when the water has returned to absolute stillness, and you take another identical rock and shoot it at the still waters again, is the pattern of ripples exactly the same each time?

A more complex way involves a little experiment that I like to refer to as the dark room test. It is an experiment that falsifies the basic tenant of determinism, which, ironically, boosts determinism’s credibility, while at the same time creating space between awareness and the illusion of sensory data, so as to reintroduce ourselves to that which we take for granted and have lost basic intimacy with. If determinism is true, then there should be very little room left for variation when it comes to casual relationships. A punch to the face should always elicit the same reaction. Exposure to the same type of conditions in repeated experiments should always produce reliable consistent results, without fail. If there is any variation, or effects that differ from the same type of cause, this basically destroys the notion that the dictums of cause and effect originate from an external source, which is the underlying assertion at play in all deterministic argumentation. This experiment involves a degree of sensory deprivation, which is beneficial, as the illusions of perception are the major contributing factor to the distraction that renders us unable to discern the truth of the origin of reality.

So this experiment mostly takes perception out of the mix, and lets one tighten up the focus of the attention. And that’s key here. Because, a dark room test is a bit of a literal exposition. Something like this must be contrived because people are unaware that reality is awareness, and therefor don’t have the process utility necessary for progress in meditation. Meditation would be the easiest method to disprove objective determinism. The deep meditative state is a return to potentialism; the absolute zero point. The state of complete freedom from any commitments to realized possibilities. Cause and effect is temporarily suspended in this mental superposition.

So, coming out of deep meditation, the deep empty imaginary space devoid of all causal connection, one should emerge back into the layer of causality the same way each time; completely stripped naked, so to speak. A bit of uniform innocence, leaping feet first into the same cold waters. So, the question becomes, if a certain causal condition can be duplicated exactly the same way each time, and if a perspective can enter this condition from the exact same state each time, will the reaction when emerging from this empty position always be the same? If so, why? If not, why not?

Knowing why the state would always be the same, and thus the reaction to the causal condition would always vary, would be an understanding of the idealism that composes a reality that is fundaMENTALLY mental in composition. Answering the ‘why not’ would be a defense of an abstraction about reality; that is, in this case, the hard boiled objective realism of the determinist position. The former is an object of reality. The latter is a concept of reality.

So, since most of us are totally disconnected from reality and clueless when it comes to meditation and freeing the mind from mental slavery, we’ll have to contrive some kind of method with more tangible practicality. Hence, the dark room test...

What you're gonna need is a windowless room, or a room that you can achieve pitch black in, a bed situated in this room, a pair of ear plugs and a journal. You should always be in normal health for the experiment to ensure a reliable default state. If you are sick or are otherwise impaired, skip the that day and wait till you are in normal health again. The experiment should be conducted as follows: you go to sleep every night in this room and wake up the next day in the pitch black with your hearing suppressed. These conditions should never be altered and should be exactly the same every time the experiment is repeated. Once awake, you must remain in the room and are not allowed to leave, until an idea comes into your mind about what to do that day. When the idea comes into your mind, remember it. Once you have the idea, you can then turn the lights on, remove the ear plugs, leave the room and record your results in the journal. Repeat the experiment numerous times. After repeating the experiment for at least 10 times or more, the more the better, review the journal and compare the ideas that you received.

Seeing as how the external conditions of the experiment are identical each time, the only thing that should be a factor in the test, considering that, according to determinists, the feelings and experiential configurations of a subject are inconsequential and irrelevant to objectified material reality, you should be getting the same exact idea in your head every single time. This is solid proof of determinism. But, if you have any results that vary in any way, determinism cannot be said to be true.

Give it a try, and let me know what you come up with.